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tallymonster · 1 year ago

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Memories of Us chapter 9

AO3 link

| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 |

Little baby warning, it does get angsty and there are some mentions of sex, no smut yet though, sorry guys.

Giving @cheesy-cryptid all the flowers for their beautiful art. Without it I wouldn't be writing this massive project I have given myself lol

Also giving flowers to my bestie @micropoe10 ✨ she's gonna be reading parts of this for the first time with everyone so I can't wait to see her reaction hehehe

Tag list:

@justporo @satanicspinosaurus @sleepy-timaeus @tragedybunny @davenswitcher @wayward-hel

Chapter 9

why cuts aren't healing

The relationship between Astarion and Octavia had changed since her little intrusion. She had seen him walking around without the glasses, finally. Whatever reasoning he had for that was lost on her, since he stopped speaking directly to her.

He would just stare, those fire orange eyes seemed to burn into her seething with a mix of disappointment, rage, betrayal. Gale had the unfortunate duty of passing her messages from Astarion, working as their in between.

The cold notes Astarion would send in with Gale were only about work. No smarmy comments, no sarcastic airs, just boring work. Octavia crumples up and throws the note in the garbage next to her.

"Do you think he's ever going to speak to me?" She asks Gale, flatly. She inhales deeply and slumps down on the chair.

"Octavia, you literally broke the one rule the man has for ALL OF US. What were you expecting? A handshake? A pat on the head? Please."

Gale looked at her with an annoyed face, his tone not much further. "Listen, let him brood, it'll be good for him. For you too. Maybe you'll learn what 'private' means."

Gale isn't hiding that he's mad, but there's a hint of concern behind it. He obviously cares for Astarion, but he can only do so much for these two.

--------------------—-------------------

In his dusty office, Astarion still obsesses over the argument with Octavia. She was so afraid of him. Even as she was being torn down, she still looked at him with a nurturing curiosity.

The entire thing confused him, why did she smell like Tav? Why do her eyes look at him like hers did? She reminded him so much of his lost love. Was he imagining it, or was it the regret playing tricks on his mind again?

It had been one hundred and fifty years since he let the human go. She was desperate to join him in the Underdark, she could help him, they were in love after all.

Somehow Astarion couldn't ask her to give up her life in the sunlight for him. She screamed, begged, pleaded, fought, and cried. Nothing would move him from this firm stance. He couldn't take her from the only life she had known above ground. Especially not now that they were all being hailed as heroes.

The look on her face when he denied her was still seared into his memories. The necessary pain he had to put her through to save her. He was too cowardly to face it, so he left in the night.

Never looking back at the Elfsong Tavern, never seeing his friends, letting them all kill him in their minds. They were all dead now, or they assumed he was. There was no point in dwelling on his own actions.

Still, he can't help but wonder, what happened to them? Did Lae'zel and Shadowheart ever forgive his choices? Was his Gale truly happy like the letters his great grandson gave him said? Did Wyll and Karlach even make it to Avernus? Astarion let the sorrow fill his core, the despair growing and twisting into total apathy.

He often thought of his last night with Tav, the way he had to lie to calm her down. Her tears as he kissed her worries away. His hands on her body, feeling her come undone with every touch. She crashed her lips on his desperately, the worry and insecurities followed by hunger and lust.

Her soft cries of pleasure and heartbreak echo in his ears as they have each night for almost a century and a half. Her slow caresses were pleading him to stay, to never leave her alone. They had grown so much together, she trusted him with her blood, her body, and her heart. They had risked everything and came out the other side.

He decides then to bring her to bliss one last night before never indulging in her ever again. To feel her running hot in his icy veins, warm with her glorious blood. She was always so generous with her gifts. Her blood, her love, her body. He should be ashamed to want to leave them all behind.

So many have killed for the type of love and affection that he had in his hands. He was foolish to let it slip through like the ashes he would turn into if he walked into the sun like he imagined so long ago.

His mind couldn't help but wonder.

Was she happy? Did she forget him? Did she ever have the family she wanted? She always wanted kids, and even though he wasn't sure if he could give her some without dangerous risks, he would have done it for her. Even if he wasn't sure he ever wanted them himself, he .

He closes his eyes and hears her voice, soft and melancholy in the cold white hue of the moonlit night.

I will do anything for you, I love you.

You have me, my Star.

I'm yours forever.

Don't leave me.

Please.

The memories were all too painful, he tried hard to suppress the anger, grief and regret. but it burned like a house fire. Slowly, then all at once. He slams one of his fists onto the desk in front of him. The pain shoots up his wrist and arm, making his shoulder vibrate.

He winces and swipes off the papers on his desk, he keeps punching the desk until he can't feel his right hand. The good thing is that he won't be too badly hurt if he kills a big animal tonight. It should still be easy to catch a deer, even in this weakened state.

The aggression won't stop, he wants to yell, to destroy this whole facade, but he can't. His whole 'new' life is built on the foundation of his old one. He can't move on, no matter how many times he's lied to himself about it. No matter how many times he's tried he can still sense her.

There was a bit of a complication now, though. Octavia reminded him so much of her. The thought kept replaying in his head, all the little things he had noticed these last months.

She had the same tilted laugh, the same sweet smile that lights up her face, her way of challenging him to get a playful rise out of him. Maybe there was something there but now he can't face her. Why had she violated his only wish, what could possibly compel her to sneak in and spy on him like that?

Astarion lets all the emotion rise, his breathing quickens, his chest feels like it's tightening, the pain that was in his arm takes over his whole body and he falls into the chair behind him.

His head throbs, and it almost feels like that fucking tadpole made its way back inside him. The room is spinning and shrinking all at once. The shadows in the corners slowly growing darker around him.

The sound that comes from him erupts from his lungs, a rumbling sob that he can't suppress. The little he feels now comes out in giant tears, he gasps for air as if he's digging himself out of the grave again.

Nothing can stop the flow of emotions rippling from within. The shaky breaths tumble out, bathed in the chill of the room. He buries his head in his hands and lets it all melt away.

The sorrow he feels washes over him, the memories and lost time all pouring out. The weight of the years, the grief, all the stupid things he said and did that hurt them. He never meant to do any of it. He was just trying to protect them. His loneliness kept them safe, it was the only thing he could tell himself after all these years of self isolation.

As much as he hates putting up his walls with Octavia, she seems remorseful enough to respect this distance he's forced upon them. Practically punishing herself to gain back his favor. He can tell with the way she'll quickly turn away when he catches her looking at him, or how her eyebrows do that thing…

Oh no.

Oh Gods…

The realization hits him all at once. He's got to apologize if he even thinks this could work in his favor.

She deserves some compassion from him, at least. It's time to let go of the fear and to show someone he can be open to feeling like this again.

He's scared, always has been. It feels different now somehow, he only has to open the door and let it in, whether it will welcome him or engulf him in its flames was to be discovered in due time.

#bg3 #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #bg3 astarion #baldurs gate 3 #astarion bg3 #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #fic: memories of us #bg3 headcanon #bg3 fanfic

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velvetcloxds · 2 years ago

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if you're too shy- send me a character and a scenario and I'll write a little baby blurb for it

sam wilson + fake dating bc reader's parents really just won't leave her alone or the reader really needs a plus one at her cousin's wedding and also bc the reader doesn't want to be teased about how she "can't get some"

WHAT FRIENDS ARE FOR | S.W.

word count: 0.6k

warnings: two oblivious idiots, pretend sam isn't outside in the gif lol

"I'm sure they didn't mean it like that," you're pacing, missing the sympathetic smile on your best friend's lips as he watches you from your couch, cold beer in hand as he waits for a reply, knowing you're not even truly listening to him.

"Like why would they assume that I'm coming alone? Is it really that unbelievable that I could find a plus one?" you paused, eyeing Sam for his reaction, pouting at him, silently begging him to set your mind at ease. "I could, couldn't I?" his eyes were soft as he nodded at you, beer abandoned on the coffee table, hand gently taking hold of your wrist to pull you towards him.

"Of course, you could, baby," he was convincing, the friendly nickname aiding in his plea as he guided you to sit down on the table in front of him, thumb brushing over your pulse point in an attempt to keep you settled long enough to actually hear what he's saying. "Look at me," he insisted with a little scoff, waiting ever patiently for you to stop being stubborn and meet his gaze and it took a second, a minute, but you finally looked up from your knees, pout very present still as you did. "Don't let this get to you so much, you could get any guy you want if you tried."

"Oh, I'm sure."

"Well, I am," he wasn't pleased with your objection, finding it very much offensive that you'd question his word when he considered himself a very honest and straightforward man, very rarely wrong but he'd never tell you that. "You want me to go with you? Haven't been to a wedding in forever, plus the world should get the chance to appreciate my dancing."

"I don't want a pitty date, Sammy," you sighed, carelessly taking his hand into your lap, fiddling with his fingers, tracing the lines on his palm, something you would've questioned in its casualty if you weren't so comfortable with him. "I want someone to want to go on a date with me because they like me, maybe cause they find me pretty."

"I like you," he argued with a scoff. "And I think you're way past pretty," he added and you were the one to scoff, narrowing your eyes at him, demanding some contradiction to his statement and receiving none as he shrugged. "Come on, you know I like seeing you all dolled up and looking fine, it'll do my ego good being seen with a stunner like you," his tone was teasing yet the way his eyes roamed your features made it clear that he was sincere. After all, you were his girl in every way but the way he wanted, his best friend, his human, the only person he'd be caught being so soft with, and even though he always thought there was more there, he wasn't going to force it, not until you showed any sign of wanting the same.

"You know my mom already thinks we're secretly hooking up," you mentioned and he shrugged again, smiling as you looked down shyly, heat rising up your neck at how casual he was being about this. "The rest of them would eat their hearts out at the sight of someone as good-looking as you walking in with me," you were starting to cave, seeing the pros to this little ruse and selfishly, you always enjoyed the way Sam pulled you just a little too close while dancing with you.

"So, you going to let me take you then? I'll buy you a corsage and everything," he offered and you laughed, not fighting against the grip that pulled you onto his lap, booping your nose as you giggled.

"That's for prom, Sammy, not for a wedding," you smiled, content as his arms wrapped around you in a platonic embrace, a comfortable position as you reached over to bring his beer back to him. "Will you go dress shopping with me too?" you quipped, watching with curious eyes as he took a slow sip, following his adam's apple as he swallowed, cursing the way it made your stomach flutter.

"Course, I will, you could give me a little fashion show while you fit them."

"Then yes, you can definitely be my date."

#best friend!sam #best friend!sam wilson #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson x you #sam wilson x yn #sam wilson x y/n #sam wilson fluff #sam wilson fanfiction #sam wilson fanfic #sam wilson fic #sam wilson blurb #sam wilson drabble #sam wilson imagine #marvel baby blurbs #monique's event days #monique's baby blurb days #right where queue left me #monique's writing events

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sunsetwaltz · 12 days ago

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[Rough Thoughts on Finale - General Spoilers]

FIN at around 110h. (Minus an hour or two spent in photo mode or leaving the game idle lol)

And I'm STILL missing 2 achievements 😩 At least only one of them requires more exploration.

Warning: Mainly negative impressions below.

More than anything, I think I'm relieved the game's finally over for me. Unfortunately I stumbled on a number spoilers on the way (my fault tbh), so things didn't hit as hard as they could've. It's fine; I just wish the music had been more intense and emotionally stirring. The scenes could've really used that extra oomph - the voice acting and visuals alone weren't enough imo. It's a bit sad when the "best" part of the music was the recognisable DAI tracks.

Although the final fight(s) and ending were more definitive than the Inquisition's (base game) finale, I felt kind of...idk ambivalent as I watched the last scenes roll? Like "That's it? Hmm. I see." I couldn't muster the joy or celebratory mood or even bittersweet feelings I'd expected to come with closing a nearly decade-long chapter.

Honestly it felt a little surreal. My whole playthrough had been laced with an undercurrent of (unsurprising) disappointment and "it could've / should've been like this" thoughts, so maybe I should thank my stars the ending didn't bring any more disappointment.

Part of me can't help but remember the emotional reactions I had after finishing DA2, DAI / Trespasser, ME3 or even other games like FFXIV (incl DT). Now those games had elicited strong emotions. They had higher highs and lower emotional lows; any disappointment I had with those games was felt more keenly because the journey had been full of surprises and many joys. Whereas with DA:V, my journey has mainly been like a steady line? There were things I liked in DA:V and everything else was lacklustre tbh. It was missing the emotional rollercoaster and adventure I'd craved from Thedas :/

Don't get me wrong I did enjoy playing DA:V - I wouldn't have continued otherwise. But would I recommend this game at full price? No. I don't regret playing it but I can't in good conscience suggest someone else do so when at its core DA:V is missing the essential "DA" ingredients - compelling nuanced writing, world building and party characters.

DA:V may borrow names from the DA world of Thedas but it doesn't feel like Thedas - these names feel little more than set dressing or props. Like many have expounded before me, by "playing it safe" with the writing the devs stripped away the immersive things players loved about DA. Too many times did DA:V's script feel too superficial, too casually modern and too insincere(?) in regards to the previous games' established worldbuilding. Quantity over quality, new player experience and cinematics over roleplaying seemed like BW / EA's main priorities. Y'know instead of the DA fans who have been waiting ages for this game after being left on a major cliffhanger. Everything elf-related (incl. the veil jumper Rook experience) felt like a "token effort" at best; I can't imagine how much worse it'd be to play as a qunari or LoF.

I could go into the specifics of what I liked vs. disliked and properly discuss the major story beats (or even Act 3 alone), but I'll stop now. Time to head to bed and maybe later I can think about watching the game's other possible endings(?), romances, etc. It'll be interesting to see the other choices - and if Neve still feels like the game's deuteragonist (or the devs' pet favourite) when she's not y'know "chosen".

TL;DR I'm annoyed some of the appearances / transmog are bugged (i.e. locked despite having completed the requisite quest, etc). I hope they actually fix it and add a golden nug feature too 😔

#oops this is really rambly #lyna plays datv #da:v #datv spoilers #da spoilers #DA:V critical

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mooodyblue · 2 years ago

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Here's another potential little!E request idea; you giving him either a pacifier or a pair of adult sized footed pajamas to help him regress? Thanks!

i could have waited to drop this tomorrow but it'll be one less thing i have to do so here's another little e! fic to make up for the short one from earlier hahahaha ty for the request!!! <3 hope u don't mind i took ur rq and made it into something probably way more than u were expecting LOL

for you. | little!elvis x cg!reader

wc: 1.3k

warnings: little space, age regression, use of mommy

masterlist | send a request or say hi :)

it was a rough week for elvis. between recording and planning another tour, not to mention being pestered all week by various members of his crew for something. he needed a break desperately and you could see it in his eyes, in the way he spoke to you and his body language. elvis was just tired. but that wasn't going to stop him from working hard. he never really knew how to stop, so many people depended on him for different things and he needed to get it all done.

you were going to take matters in to your own hands. calling everyone he was supposed to meet with the following day to say elvis couldn't make it or that he wasn't feeling well. you being elvis's girlfriend and elvis being extremely overprotective of you, nobody was going to argue with you when you asked for everyone to leave him alone for just a day, maybe a couple days even. later when you both settled in for the night, you wrapped your arms around him from behind, squeezing him slightly. "you have the day off tomorrow." you murmured.

he creeped over his shoulder, cocking an eyebrow. "what did you do?"

"i'm dating elvis presley, nobody wants to argue with me." you joked, burrying your face in his shoulder. "now go to sleep."

you let him sleep in the next morning, allowing yourself some time to plan out your day with elvis. you wanted him to relax, get him back into a good mindset. you realized it had been awhile since he regressed. it was only a few months ago when he first brought it up to you yet he'd only been little just a few times in your relationship, he was still shy about the whole thing but you didn't mind at all. of course, you didn't want to exactly, force him to regress but you knew it was something he needed. you had everything on hand; his bottle was sat in the cupboard, his favorite plushie sitting in a chair in the living room, a paci you recently bought was even shoved somewhere in the couch for elvis to mysteriously' find. the paci would be new for him, hopefully you weren't going too far by buying it for him.

elvis wandered down the stairs to the kitchen, smiling at the sight of you making him breakfast. "what's the occasion?" he asked, voice startling you from behind.

"oh christ, you scared me!" you jumped. "no occasion, just thought i'd spoil you a little."

he walked up behind you, muttering an apology and kissing the tip of your ear. "thank you, baby." he sat back at the table, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and running his fingers through his hair. as much as he loved that you asked for everyone to leave you alone today, he was now burdened with thoughts of all the work and favors he'd have to catch up on tomorrow. he wouldn't admit that to you though, never.

you made his usual eggs and bacon, less burnt than usual and giving him a glass of orange juice instead of his usual black coffee. he looked up at you, confused. "y'know, i love you and i love when you cook for me. but-"

"switching it up today." you interrupted, sitting close to him before picking up a fork and stabbing at the eggs with it. "open up!" you brought the fork up to his mouth, only to receive a concerned look from elvis in return. you let out a sigh. "c'mon, you love when i feed you."

"but-"

"enough buts! eat for me." you exclaimed, bringing the fork back to his mouth. he finally obliged, letting you feed the eggs to him.

after breakfast, you sent him back upstairs to wash up and meet you in the living room, where you'll begin operation get elvis to finally relax. you were disappointed to see elvis in the living room in regular clothing, not in his pajamas or anything. you looked at him, hands on your hips. "alright, now what am i doin' wrong? ain't this supposed to be my day?"

you shook your head. "why are you dressed like you're about to head out for the day? it's just me and you here, relax baby! put something more comfortable on."

he gave you another confused look, sinking into the couch with his arms crossed till he felt something nudge against his back. he turned around, eyes widening as he noticed the red pacifier in between the couch pillows. he picked it up, staring at it for a minute before shaking his head and setting it on the coffee table. you must have bought that for him at some point, maybe it was supposed to be a surprise for him but no, he won't slip, nope. absolutely not.

"elvis."

as he moved his eyes to you, he noticed his favorite brown bear sitting up in the chair across from him, propped up and staring right at him. that bear was supposed to be stored in his closet, hiding away from everyone for nobody to find. he felt bad for the stuffie sometimes, it must get scary sometimes with it being all dark and cold in there. he looked so lonely sitting on the chair. almost begging for elvis to come pick him up and hold him tightly. his eyes drifted back to the red pacifier sitting on the coffee table, staring at it and anxiously bouncing his leg up and down.

you sat next to him, wishing you could see what was on his mind. you didn't know he was fighting with the own thoughts in his head, refusing to slip right then and there. he didn't understand why he was so nervous to regress around you, he loved and trusted you more than anyone in his life. you had no issue taking care of him, playing the role as his mommy or his caregiver was never an issue for you even if you played that role only a few times. but you bought him a pacifier. he couldn't believe you would do that for him.

resting a hand on his knee, you squeezed it softly. "elvis." he turned his head to you, looking at you with glassy eyes as if something switched in his brain. "it's okay, baby." you reassured. he began to tear up, throwing his head against your shoulder and releasing sad, tired sobs. "oh my poor little prince, i know you're tired." you kissed the top of his head. "let's get your jammies on and sit for awhile, that sound good?"

he followed you up the stairs, hand in hand. you took him to the bedroom, where he sat on the bed waiting for you to bring out his clothes. "i did buy you something yesterday. if you don't want to wear it, that's okay." from the closet, you pulled out a pair of footie pajamas that were a bright shade of red with little stars decorated all over.

that was what did it for him, he was so lucky to have you. "for me?"

"for you, hon."

you helped him put them on, grinning at the overjoyed expression on his face as he began to settle into his headspace. "you didn't have to do this for me...."

"but i wanted to." you crouched down, taking his hands and looking up at him. "i wanted to because i love you and i want you to be happy. and do you know the other reason?"

"c-cos' 'm your baby." he replied, shyly.

you smiled at him. "that's right, cause you're my baby." you stood back up, taking his hand. "now, let's go relax."

once back downstairs, the two of you sat together. he rested his head in your lap, eyes focused on the tv with his teddy by his side. he subconsciously brought his thumb to his mouth, which you noticed immediately. "you want your paci, sweetie?" he nodded in response. you got it from the table, placing it in his mouth then going back to running your fingers through his hair gently. "thank you...mommy." he said softly against the pacifier.

"anything for you, my prince."

tags: (twice in one day, my bad yall) @aconflagrationofmyown @butlersluvbot @arianatheangel-girl @steph-speaks

want to be added to my taglist?

#elvis x reader #elvis

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midnightmah07 · 8 months ago

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fiiine if you say so, but I'm still gonna make you something!

Plus I said it'll probably make you cry! No guarantees it will!

Anyway, I wanted to ask you if you've ever thought about how Rigel is essentially doomed to be alone for his whole life*pushes away the OC made to be his gf*

Just think about it, Rigel age regresses and reverts back to acting like a child when in overwhelming situations, making me viewed as childish by peers and strangers. The only people that actually know why Rigel is this way are Idia, Ortho, and the other STYX workers(I don't think Perse would know what happened to his uncle, she'd just know that Rigel acts childish and doesn't ask why). He was a child when he lost his uncle in front of him and no one, except the Shroud boys, were the only people to comfort him, until they were gone, he lost his friend and had no one else to turn to, because his only source of comfort is now gone for good.

So he's now manipulated himself into thinking the death was his fault and that it's now his duty to carry on his legacy, even if he doesn't want to, even if it's not who he is. He's lost himself in trying to become the image of his uncle so as to pretend he's still with him and that he still has a family, because due to the neglect of his parents, he's forgotten what they even look like whilst they are trying to reignite the long dead relationship of parent and child.

However things changed when he and Perse became siblings, he finally had someone who'd be able to lift him up, allow him to be himself, and finally have a family member who'll stuck by his side and reciprocate his love

Everything is finally going right. Except for when it doesn't. Book six.

Ortho convinces Rigel to join him in resetting the world by promising the reunion of him and Charon, his uncle, or his father because the two are so similar in every way, they might as well be father and son

The plan fails of course, which deepens Rigel suppressed depression, true Perse yelled at him, but she still loves him, she wouldn't hug him if she didn't because no one who didn't love him hugged him

But when Perse eventually leaves and Idia and Ortho take over STYX, he's not going to have anyone left to stick with him, and with his and Perse's argument and the hurtful words said, did she actually love him or was it just pity for the hurting boy? Was everything fake and he was just being ignorant as she went along with it? Or was he just being delusional into thinking that he could actually have someone who loves him so much where he could be called their family? That's up for debate

But the blot that has compiled ever since he was six certainly knows the answer, or so it thinks. It just wishes to feed and give him the reunion he's always wanted.

Maybe he is the splitting image of his uncle with the repressed depression and the love of boat rides on the river

I'll have you know that I'm definitely going to make some sort of drawing of Rigel's pov of Perse during his overblot *bats eyes cutely*

Literally why are you guys so mean to your OCs... Like let them be happy people oh my Gosh y'all are messed up😭

Also wait as I read this I'm unsure if I made Perse's roles with the Shrouds clear, Perse is basically another worker at STYX! Her family has served the Shrouds for generations and she's basically stuck to Idia and Ortho's side ever since she was a child! Plus not only that but when she's older she ends up marrying Idia (which yes basically breaks the Achillea-Shroud relationship but like... She's "stuck" with him now but willingly) and this basically solidifies that she's not leaving his side lol

Granted, she does travel for work a good amount of time, so maybe in those instances Rigel could've felt alone? But other than that she doesn't really have a reason to leave STYX/the Island of Woe and by consequence Rigel's side

#💙! mah's answers

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kitkatwinchester · 2 years ago

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IS THAT EPISODE SERIOUSLY GONNA END LIKE THAT??!!

WTF!!!

I HAVE TO GO TO BED!!!

THIS IS SO NOT FAIR!!!

WHY DOES THIS KEEP HAPPENING TO ME?!

WHY DO I ALWAYS DO THIS TO MYSELF?!

SON OF A GODD*MN F*CKING B*TCH KDJFAKL:JFLDKAJKL:AFDJ KLAD:JFDAKLJF:DLKAJFDAKJL.

...well anyways.

That was certainly a ten-minute rollercoaster.

In order of events, shall we?

Okay. Love that Lydia's finally starting to use and understand her Banshee powers, and we love that Stiles is so supportive and helpful with it. Love that for them. (Though, as an aside, how come Stiles, who has normal human hearing, had to cover his ears when she screamed, but Scott, who has SUPER WEREWOLF HEARING, just winced a little? I guess maybe he hears it differently as a supernatural being. Maybe it's not as jarring. I'll allow it. XD)

THIS RUNNING BAT GAG IS MY FAVORITE THING! I LOVE THAT STILES STILL HAS THE BAT!! More importantly, I love that his reason for keeping Lydia in the car is that he only has one bat. XD

I WAS RIGHT ABOUT KIRA BEING SOMETHING! I don't know what the heck she IS, but a normal human being cannot just take on that much electricity like that and be fine, much less take out the whole power grid in the process. But she clearly likes Scott, and she didn't, like, immediately attack him after that happened, so she can be something and not be an EVIL something, right? And this also means that Scott can tell her he's a werewolf and it'll all be fine and good. RIGHT?!

That said...

WTF JUST CAME AFTER ISAAC?! DON'T HURT MY BABY!! GO AWAY!! LEAVE HIM ALONE!! WHO ARE YOU?! WHAT ARE YOU?! I DON'T LIKE YOU!! LEAVE MY BABY ALONE!! Literally the fact that even Chris was panicking because as annoyed as he might be about his daughter's interest in werewolves, he clearly does like Isaac, and he doesn't want anything to happen to him, and SOMETHING IS CLEARLY HAPPENING TO HIM GOSH DARNAT LEAVE MY BABY ALONE!

As an aside, I know there's been, like, a whole Derek and Peter side plot happening these last couple episodes, but we get so little of it each time that I don't feel like I have enough to react to lol. I'm sure our stories will collide again at some point though. For now, I know that Derek wanted to talk to his mom about something, and whatever they talked about...the answer wasn't pretty.

So anyways...yaaaay cliffhanger endings that I CAN'T SATISFY BECAUSE I HAVE CLASS TOMORROW!

Uggghhhhh.

I will 100% be watching another episode tomorrow as soon as class is done. I can guarantee you that much. (Also finals are next week and then school is done, so the odds of me finishing this show within the next couple of weeks are PRETTY high lol.)

Ugggggh I hate everything. XD

(The way they both jumped lol. Oh boys. XD <3)

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supernovasolace · 2 years ago

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Today feels rich with possibilities but also...bittersweet.

I came out to my brothers a few days ago. It's been a while since our last visit, and I'm seeing them for the youngest's birthday today. I'm still nervous about COVID but we are testing/masking, and I'm bringing my Aranet so I can make a case for opening some windows at least. It's so hard to go anywhere without worrying it'll be the place my luck runs out. But I am trying to balance my caution and make space for other important things too.

Anyways, my brothers aren't normally big texters (we mostly just share memes back and forth lol) but they both heart reacted to my message about my name/pronouns, so I'm taking that as a positive sign. They seem like they'll both be cool, but they're probably also concerned about what's going to happen with our parents. Which is fair.

We grew up in an abusive and controlling home, and it wasn't safe to show weakness or admit our struggles, let alone talk about them openly or without judgment. So while I was already being vulnerable in coming out, I took the opportunity to explicitly state this. I told them I was going to therapy, and invited them to talk to me if there's ever anything hard that they need to talk to someone about. I told them that unlike our parents, my love for them is unconditional and that nothing could change how I see them. I know they're probably not going to take me up on the offer anytime soon, but I hope they remember the seeds I've been planting when they need a confidant. It was a big step, but I am proud of myself for opening up. In order for things to change, someone always has to take the first leap of faith. This time it was just my turn, and I didn't flinch.

Sometimes I feel like I'm behind in life compared to my younger siblings. They both have careers, are in good health, have better relationships with our parents, and survived our upbringing more unscathed due to being AMAB. As the eldest, I always tried to protect them and take the brunt of things when our parents were at their worst, and for the most part I succeeded. My brothers got to have much more of a childhood than I ever did and I'm thankful for that. But they've still been through shit no one should go through. When they were little, I did what I could to draw attention off them. And they've seen me hide bruises that would have been theirs. We've been through shit together that would leave scars on anyone.

And then I think about all our extended family, most of whom also grew up in abusive environments. Many are so transparently haunted by their past and spend their whole lives avoiding uncomfortable conversations. Trauma has had a history in our family for generations, and I've watched so many of them hide it away, letting it fester until it whittled them away into hollow shells. And when I think of my extended family, I think maybe the best thing I can give my brothers is an example of what it looks like to fight your demons and win.

It's taken me 28 years to get myself into therapy, and I'm so fucking proud of myself for finally making it happen. I've been wanting to go for years, but I was scared I wouldn't be able to find a provider who would have broad enough competency to help me sort through everything I've been through. But the therapist I found is perfect for me in every way. They've been through many of the same struggles that I've been through, and we even have the same birthday. I feel safe with them, and weekly sessions have given me some structure and stability that I've really needed lately. It's hard for me to ask for help, and it's hard for me to trust that resources will remain available for me to depend on because I've lost them so many times. But I have been pushing against those fears because I know this will be good for me, and I told myself this time felt different.

That is, until I got an email last night that my therapist is suspending their services due to my insurer no longer approving them as a provider. They're appealing the decision, but there's no telling how long the process will take or if it'll be successful. And they can't see me in the meantime unless I can afford to self-pay (which I can't). There's a good chance I'll be losing my access to therapy through this provider permanently. And at this point, they're irreplaceable to me, so I don't know what to do.

I'm trying desperately to remain hopeful about it, but this sudden turn of events has given me whiplash and I'm feeling heartbroken over the possibility of losing my therapist. It's not their fault, and there's nothing anyone can do but wait for the appeal process. This has been very triggering for my medical trauma as well, as quite often I lose access to important treatments or providers due to bullshit, pointlessly cruel insurance bureaucracy. I really felt like this time was going to be different. I thought I was going to be able to depend on my therapist for support as I prepare to come out to my non-affirming parents. And if I'm honest with myself, I really really need to keep seeing them. I'm cautiously optimistic about seeing my brothers tonight, but I was excited to share about how it goes with my therapist on Thursday. Now I'm feeling more nervous because I know no matter how tonight goes, I won't be getting a session this week to process.

I'm having a hard time not feeling like the rug is being pulled out from under me yet again. Part of me feels silly for expecting any better, part of me is despondent and scared, and another part of me is absolutely furious about being trapped in a hell country with systems and policies like this. Above all else, it just feels deeply unfair. I've already survived so much, and even just a few weeks of sessions has been life-changing. I don't think that access to therapy is too much to ask for. And I shouldn't be spending my Saturday night crying because I might lose my best shot at healing when I've only just gotten started.

So I guess I'm putting all these messy feelings on here, because they have to go somewhere. And the one person I want to talk to about it can't see me. I hope this ends up being a speed bump rather than a road block, but only time will tell. I'll keep fighting regardless, but for now, I'm fucking bummed. And taking some time to hold space for that feels right. I think my therapist would agree, and I hope I get to talk with them about life again someday soon.

#musings #coming out #trauma recovery #therapy #at least since my appointment is canceled i will be able to accompany my partner to his vasectomy consultation this week #so that's something #trying to stay positive #medical trauma tw #inaccessibility tw #abuse tw

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solitarysurvival · 2 years ago

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@edensflower said: "you’re just going to leave me here?!" (survivor eunyu au LOL)

❝ what, are you in a hurry to get acquainted with that asshole's machete? ❞ jake didn't want to argue; the way he saw it, these new survivors — some of them, just kids, were his responsibility alone. the dying, again and again — they would need to get used to, would understand over time. but just now, he has no intention on returning to the campfire to meet another of dwight's looks of quiet disappointment.

❝ yes,❞ he says exasperated, pointed, ❝ i'm going to leave you here. and if everything doesn't go to hell, hopefully not for long.❞ he doesn't bother to elaborate; the longer he entertained a debate with her, the fewer seconds their teammates, in the trapper's basement, would have. time, they have precious little of. the ground under their feet is beginning to rumble with the collapse, magma veins splitting the wrecker's yard in fragments. beyond, the exit gate had been opened, only for dark branches to crawl out from the brick to block them in for a final cruel joke.

❝ but, if it does,❞ — and it so often does — he holds out a small metallic key to her — dull and pulled from a dusty chest, with a carved skeletal handle. ❝ … you stay out of sight. watch for his fucking traps, and find a metal hatch door. it'll be in the grass somewhere,❞ he continues, ❝ this key, will get you back to the campfire.❞ asking her to follow him into the mouth of the killer's shack was never going to be an option — and he hoped to god she valued her own life enough not to give macmillan another notch in his machete.

❝ are you going to take it personally, or could you maybe just trust me?❞

#jake doesn't know the last thing she probably wants to hear is I Will Be Right Back (:#edensflower #『 ɪ sᴘᴇᴀᴋ ᴛᴏ ʙɪʀᴅs ᴀɴᴅ ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ᴛᴏ fʟʏ. 』 ic.

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lightadarttomendyourheart · 1 year ago

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it's less than a month now. 23 days. looking at my countdown, i'm dreading it going back up to 60.. which it will.. in 4 weeks. i hate that i have that mindset. i should focus on what's here and now and at least what will be before it's gone. it's just so shit we only have 4 days together. but i'll be fine and it'll be fine. i don't think i'll cry when we part either. i didn't last time. maybe when i see you for the first time. i can see that happening. i've realized over the years i'm not a big cryer when things happen right away, it's more after the fact. or at the beginning, when i've finally seen someone after not seeing them for a long time. not when i say goodbye. or, as it happened in london, right smack in the middle when all i can think about is the days we have left together. that always gets me. the 1-2 days before leaving... i hate those.

man i was just going through my old photos and it still amazes me how we got here. i lose sight of that a lot these days - that this is my life. that you're in my life. that we're TOGETHER. that we're a thing. that we've made this happen. that we both want this. i really need to remember that more often. we met over 4 years ago on a fricken boat on the way from corfu to albania and now, 4 years and 3 months later, we're actually together. you're my boyfriend. i'm your girlfriend. it's honestly mad. if someone had asked me if i ever thought me and brandon would date, i would've said god no, it would never work, we live too far apart, i don't even know if he really likes me like that, i'm sure he's got other girls on his mind. why would he want to date someone he can only see a few times a year.

but here we are. i am that girl that's on his mind. on your mind.

seriously, when we tell our grandkids about how we met. our friends will tell their friends and their kids our story. it's timeless. one for the books to the honest. when i really think about it, i'm living in a romantic novel. and it makes it so much better that we had 2 chances after the first time we met to really make something of us, but we didn't. and it wasn't cause either of us didn't want to, it just didn't work. at least we kissed, thank god we kissed.

like, every single thing that's happened has been magical. we first met on that boat transfer and right away i was like mmm ok, this mans is adorable, sexy, hot, and so sweet. and we saw each other here and there at the festival but not until the last night did we truly speak to each other a bunch and realize we liked each other.

then, abgt350, i finally got to see you again after having you at the back of my mind since explorations. and boom, boat party, see you with another girl, who thank god you confirmed WAS a love interest, cause at least i wasn't crazy for thinking that. so naturally i was like fuck you and made out with someone else lol classic jamie. but. the final day, of course, naturally, cause that's how we roll, we finally met up at deep day and you stayed with us for the second half of the show. i had to go to the bathroom and you said you'd come with me which i was like ok finally some alone time. i love how you recently told me when i said i had to go to the bathroom you were like ok right, this is it, this is my chance. i got out of the washroom and there you were waiting for me at the top of the steps. i closed the distance between us and it finally happened, we kissed. at the top of the stairs, overlooking the krizikova fountain, while tinlicker was playing. legit people dream of first kisses like that. god, i thought about that kiss for weeks, months afterwards.

and then covid and jake and life happened.

but then, again, you happened. after 3 years of not seeing each other, we finally did in LA, almost exactly 3 years after our first kiss. and that was the icing on the cake. we spent all 3 events together, kissing and talking and spending the most time together that we ever have before. and it still wasn't enough. but i digress. i finally realized i was unhappy in my relationship and even if that didn't mean we would be together, i knew i had to make a change. so i did.

and then you made the huge commitment to come to me in Canada and spend 2.5 weeks with me. some of the best days i've had were those with you, walking the streets of london, drinking pret and walking in the rain and just endlessly talking about so many things. looking back, we both took a huge risk. we could've not gotten along, we could've not had much to talk about, but that also never ever crossed my mind. i never thought it would be a bad trip. i just *knew* it would be amazing, no matter what happened when we parted.

and then, after being together for 2 weeks, after brighton, we finally had the chat and you divulged you want this, you wanted to try long distance and do this thing. i was pretty drunk so the details are hazy, but i do know how speechless i was. how never in a million years i would've thought you'd want to be with me that much to do long distance. me? of all people, you choose me?

i've said it before but i'll say it again, i have never, ever wanted someone and something so bad and then have it actually happen for me. certain things yes, but a boy? like me so much that he'll have a relationship with me that spans 7125km? you've gotta be outta your mind. that shit only happens in the movies. and yet, it happened to me.

and i know it's stupid and shouldn't be a thing, but you literally check almost all of my boxes. everyone has their boxes and i've always let a lot of things slide because the perfect person doesn't exist, and yet. there are so many things you have or you do that are things i have always, always wanted in a partner, but truth be told lost sight of or thought i wouldn't get because.. idk, because i thought it was too much to ask for.

ok let's get into it cause why not. again, this is like ideal man list.

i always wanted a guy who had really nice hair and a lovely beard, but not one that's too long cause that's too much. you literally have both - i fucking love your greys so much. they make you you tbh. you wouldn't be you without them. also, i just always wanted someone i thought was so hot, that i was basically infatuated with, and i am with you. god i think you are seriously so sexy, so hot, so cute, so everything. i could just stare at you sometimes constantly for hours cause i think you're that beautiful. not just, oh yeah he's attractive, i am legit obsessed with how you look.

also, height. and holy fuck you're basically a giant hahaha so literally hit the jackpot.

also, someone who loves what i love and is so passionate about things i'm passionate about. anjuna. check. HUGE thing. mind you, you're not passionate about some of my other passions like alternative music, but again, i can't have it all lol.

i also wanted someone outgoing and bubbly and who matches my energy. i feel like i've historically gone after guys who are quieter because honestly, i never thought someone on my level would want me because they get all the other super hot and pretty girls, so i always discounted myself from those guys. but not with you - i have never ever been with someone who is so on the same level as me that i look at you as my equal in that area.

also, someone who genuinely likes and understands CATS! i know, doesn't matter a lot, but we're talking dream check list here, and you are legit the sweetest guy with felix and you love JT and i fucking love that you told me, dogs are great, but cats are just different. you fucking get it.

i truly believe in soul mates. i don't believe we only have 1, i think we have many in our lifetimes. some friends, some lovers. i firmly know ryan was my soul mate. i don't think charlie was ever my soul mate tbh, i was just obsessed with him and the idea of him. but anyways. the mantis fam are my soul mates, indy and sarah especially. and you. i know it to my core that you and i are meant for each other. whether that means for a lifetime, an eternity, or just a couple of years, only time will tell. but i know it in my heart, in my soul, that we are soul mates and we were meant to be. the universe literally didn't let us stray from each other for too long, only a few years.

i hope i think about this more often because when i do, i have so much hope for the future and so much hope for myself.

#personal

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carnie-calorie-counter · 1 year ago

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Day 1 of 90•160

So it's obvious now that I'm planning my death. And some people know that I want to die on my birthday. Well I realize me getting drunk and admitting that was really, really dumb. So, I'm gonna pretend to get better and hope it makes all anxiety and worry about me dying disappear from people's minds.

If I'm successful and everything goes as planned then I'm just gonna keep researching places near me and find a quiet place where kids aren't at and I'm just gonna take some pills and hope the coma route doesn't happen.

I am sad actually since I didn't really want it to come to this, but it's really no ones fault but my own. I mean I was the kid who failed to grow up and I probably deserved the abuse because I was such a hard kid to raise...

I really was horrible and still am.

Anyway, I'm gonna do a diary everyday if possible and just let the days count down. I'll post this accounts name to my main because Lord and Lady knows that Eliza most likely won't say anything lol.

I don't want any of you to try anything after me okay? Because honestly, you all actually have places in life and have the ability to be good people and progress through your trauma. I'm never going to be able to be normal, and after twenty something years I can see it now. Not only that every time I've thought about my death I cry and I think that's incredibly narcissistic, telling and a huge sign that I'll never get better.

The reason I've chosen OD is because I'm too chicken to slice my wrist open and I don't wanna jump off a bridge or building and have someone call a clean up crew.. I don't wanna be THAT much of a burden in the beginning stages of my leave. It defeats the purpose.

It's all very surreal if I'm honest, I'm obviously going through the grieving stages. Of knowing I'll never be normal and knowing what I have to do to lessen the blow on everyone else. I'm happy one day, torn apart the next and then I'm calm. Calm as calm could be.

I've utilized the Do Not Disturb on my phone finally, it helps because I think eventually I'll stop wanting for attention at all. My absence may also really help everyone, you know, get over the person they'll eventually learn was really fucked in the head.

I'm gonna miss my dog, but everyone else will either abandon her like they would have abandoned me if I kept on living or they will be definite better owners than I had been.

I'll miss food, I've already looked up ways to help me decompose better if my friends go the funeral route and I'm gonna be liquid dieting until I completely stop eating/drinking. It'll be nice to be kinda skinny when I die though, that's a mediocre plus I guess.

I never actually had sex either, I mean I'm not a virgin but I don't really think I've ever been able to finish, have anyone else finish, or be able to say I liked any of it. It actually makes me feel like a failure too, I mean I'm supposedly hypersexual so I should just enjoy it no matter what right?

Sometimes I wish I were okay with all I wasn't alright with, maybe then I wouldn't be so insufferable.

I seek attention and I'm gonna start being alone to think about why I seek so much attention. It's not healthy for anyone because no one should have to be around me when I want attention just because I want it. I should earn it honestly. But I'm obviously not earning it and I'm not enough because I'm not getting enough. You know, data tells. Or something like that.

You know I'm really depressed too. Like it sucks knowing I have to die but what sucks is it got THIS bad until I decided "yo, nothings gonna fix so we gotta find out what to fuckin do" and the final fix was death lol

That's so sad and pathetic isn't it?

I chose 90 OR 160 days because I'm either dying on my birthday (161 days from today) or I'm gonna try dying in a cold month if my head gets too horrible to handle. (90 days)

I might have to start biting at people since I heard if you get people pissed at you before you're dead they won't miss you and they'll forget you easier.

Well this is all I can say for today.

It's 5:01 PM and I have work tomorrow

It's Wednesday June 28th 2023

And eventually I won't be here anymore 🪻

#gelli #countdown diary

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cornflowershade · 1 year ago

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what did he see? (maybe that sand didn't call his mom?)

HE SENT IT TO RAY. Way to put him in the middle Sand. (Also okay leaked the truth on Nick here too.) This isn't even about Ray/Mew is it, he's trying to get Ray to be the one to ruin Mew/Top (to take Top down.) And he thinks Ray might do it because 1. Ray likes Mew & 2. Ray is mad at Boston. Way to set a guy with too many problems up to take the fall. SANDDDD. Also good for Ray questioning first thing "where did you get this?" lol. Also... the recording is an audio recording. Just titled "That Car". There is no video. Actually hilarious that Ray listened to it for three seconds and went: "Top and Boston??" My guy HOW CAN YOU TELL asdfg

this looks like the face of someone who knows someone is trying to play him. Sand just said Top stole his lover. I think Ray can tell Sand is doing this out of spite for Top and I think he is also feeling let down that Sand is trying to use him like this.

Nick finally voicing that he's upset (despite lying about not liking Ton at all) and taking a stand for once, telling Ton enough

and.... Boston being king of manipulation yet again. I know you like me and I still want you— just don't be too dramatic. [if it was someone else, someone annoying, i'd have split by now.] Don't walk out and if you keep quiet I won't drop you. (aaand Nick stays instead of walking out. Despite feeling that what Ton just said is messed up, I believe, because yeah—he likes him. Curious to see at what point Nick won't stay. Like. There will be a breaking point eventually, I feel it. Wondering what it'll take.)

this scene actually made me sad. NICKKKKKK.

Also okay, Ton doesn't want to start something bc he might move? How much does this actually factor in for him? Also I really want to see his POV at some point. How is he thinking about Nick? I want to know.

wait. wait. with the setup and the episode title. oh god is ray gonna tell him. is he gonna do it ON HIS BIRTHDAY. (Man, birthdays are cursed on this show lol.)

Ray *storms in* : you hooked up with top Ton: looks genuinely scared. (guys i don't think i've ever seen this much genuine emotion on his face before. he is. actually afraid.)

ASDFGHJ RAY

sdf the little cocky shrug. you know, it's as soon as Ray basically slut shames him that Ton stops taking the conversation seriously. He hears this so often, even from his friends (heck even from his dad) and the second Ray goes there Ton's cool uncaring defenses go right up into place. Fear = gone. Attack mode = on. (Also the vengeful 'villain stare' boston made at the end of this scene LMAO)

Mew's glasses were NOT invited to the party. :(

the unending tension in this scene bruh, (anyway Ton leave him alone)

this was a sweet scene. proud of Ray for not spilling to beans right here (not to say he won't later if provoked, I don't trust the crowd out there). + The way he just. said he was happy he was Mew's friend? Idk. Sweet. Also was there actually any evidence he was in here to do drugs or anything, Mew? Literally he was just using the bathroom. Ray looked put off when Mew went there right off. That's how Mew sees him. Someone with Problems. Is he drunk already? No? Then he obviously came in here to get high, right? But then, Mew shows care by saying Ray should make sure he has a ride home. (LOL not Boston though asdfg.) Even so I think it hurt Ray that this is how Mew will always view him. Anyway YES RAY HE DID LOOK CUTER WITH GLASSES AND YOU SHOULD SAY IT. I love how he is complimenting how Mew looked before Top intervened lol. But also just saying, in a subtle way... I always liked how you were, with no changes. A soft moment.

not this omen of a song again asdfg

OH SHOOT HIS IS DRUNK NOW. HE'S GONNA SAY IT INTO THE MIC ISN'T HE. OH MY GOD. And Sand right there like Oh Shoot. Sand this is your own fault!! But also. He did not expect it to happen like this pffff. He thought he'd send Ray off to throw a wrench in everything while himself getting to stay out of it. NOPE, it's happening right here on your stage, my guy. (Also love that Ray was up there singing next to him haha.)

the face of a guy who is about the f*ck things up. he is so done and ready to let them have it.

oh damn

he really said I Am Running This Show Now

(I am watching in rapt fear)

okay Mew punching Ray. I did not see that coming.

Ray realizing he looks like the bad guy and even his closest friend has turned on him (kinda sad he didn't finish his piece and just yell out what Top did lmao)

aaaaand. Sand is this you realizing that you lit the spark for this? I sure hope so.

okay while Sand does deserve to say this at some point... Is this really the time?? NOW??

Ray has every right to make this face ngl

yeah i love sand but get him

don't say that :(

like how it's looping back to the let me drive you thing though.

okay maybe he didn't deserve THAT ray...

Honestly I think Ray is currently feeling that no one really cares about him. And Sand—his happy escape of a boy—tried to use him today, for his own ends. So in Ray's mind, what were they? Were they ever anything? It all meant nothing. (Incorrect, but I see how he got there.)

RAY STOP DON'T DRIVE THIS CAR AWAY THERE IS TOO MUCH FORESHADOWING ACROSS MULTIPLE EPISODES. YOU ARE GOING TO CRASH.

the way Sand raced after him on the bike agh

me (after being busy all day) : YES I CAN FINALLY WATCH OFTS

OFTS 0.1 seconds in:

me (out loud): NOoOo !!

#liveblog #ofts #only friends the series #mine

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willowser-but-nsfw · 2 years ago

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[ nsfw ] - post-apocalyptic au (mentions of guns, blood, war, fighting for survival) ; probably ooc bakugou because of the setting ; implied/minor shinsou x reader ; smut (18+) (may or may not be exposing my spit kink with this one LOL)

[ word count ] - 7.5k

"y'want me to do it?"

it smells like copper.

when you press your tongue against the roof of your mouth, you taste blood; a preemptive warning for what's coming, what you'll spill. for some reason, the rifle feels heavier than usual today.

"c'mon, what're you waiting for?"

maybe it's because you can't see his face. seems immoral that way. maybe it's because showing your back to someone is a sign of weakness in the world now and everyone knows that; him walking backwards to the safehouse, one arm barely raised in surrender — that's trust. that you won't do exactly what you're planning to do to him.

"gonna let him knock on the front door or what?"

"would you shut up?" you hiss, snapping back to fix your watch-partner with a glare. "i'm trying to focus."

he only raises one eyebrow, lazily gesturing back out to the road where the figure is stumbling along. despite hitoshi's easy facade, you can tell there's a sincerity to his words, even more evident in the tight hand he has around his own gun. he's allowing you the time, the chance to make your own decision, but he's as much a guard to the house as you are.

holding your breath, you look back through the glass reticle and find the man again. the gun aizawa gave you is from before the war, but it'll still take a raider's head off if you aim it right, and it won't be clean about it, either. even from where you're sitting in the watch blind, you have him clear in your sights and all you have to do is rid the tension from your shoulders and ease out your breath and —

the man crumples into the dirt, and stays there. a dusty lump of skin and bone and uncertainty.

when you pull back to look at hitoshi, he ignores you, frowning at the sight. the rusted chair he's half-leaning back in creaks when it hits the floor, screeching as he scoots to its edge to better survey the road. it's been a few days since he's shaved, the skin underneath his sprouting hairs irritated from where he's been scratching.

"this is a trap if i've ever seen one."

"so what are we supposed to do?" you pull the rifle from where it'd been perched on the ledge — something that deepens hitoshi's frown; a finality. "just leave him there?"

("we can't lose our humanity," aizawa told you, both, as you all stood on the screened-in porch, watching eri make dolls from sticks and straw in the yard. it hadn't been long after you joined their encampment, and you'll never forget the way he looked at you. with trust, pleading, that you wouldn't become everything they feared. "or else we'll be no different than the damn machines.")

hitoshi finally looks at you with his heavy, withdrawn eyes, and he looks the same as he did the night he found you in that ditch, all alone and bleeding out. he could have just left you to die on some excuse about not having the room or space or resources to take on another mouth to feed, but —

frustrated, he shakes his head, chasing away his compassion and memory in staunch self-defense. "this is a trap."

it's been a few days since either of you have seen another person this far out west, even longer since raiders have come along and met their own graves. a sweeter aspect to having the safehouse on a hill: you can see anything coming for miles. it gives you all the time you need to prepare for bandits and thugs, the wayward todoroki corporation 'droids that scan this edge of the earth.

you can see anything coming, even the end. and it can see you, too.

you don't argue because his concern is rooted in truth; what little peace you've had is bound to expire. it never lasts very long. people are getting desperate, moreso than usual. aizawa predicts a fourth of the population won't make it without food and shelter and something to keep warm when the next winter hits — which isn't far off.

out on the road, the lump never moves.

"fuck it," you grunt, kicking your chair back as you stand. your rifle strap slips over your head easily, the weight of it grounding as nerves light with unease. "just—cover me."

hitoshi glares, but doesn't move to stop you. "you're explanin' this to shouta on your own."

you shuffle down the rickety ladder, jumping off as soon as you can because you hate the stupid thing. the dehydrated skeleton of a bush snaps when you clamber through it, kicking along dead limbs and branches and thorns until you reach the barren, dirt road.

once you're out in front of the blind, you give a thumbs up and you don't move until hitoshi's light flashes twice, hidden by what remains of an old pine.

even from where you're standing, you can hear the man breathing, wheezing audibly enough that your own chest tightens in response. could be from the storms and their acidic haze, or prolonged exposure to radiation that's started to eat him up from the inside; either way, you don't think it sounds like he has long.

before you can fully approach, the up-close sight of him stops you dead.

half-alive. battle-torn, much more than you expected; your mouth fills with saliva at the dried clumps of blood clinging to one side of his face, crusted over with debris and muck. his right arm is — fucked, to say the least, and he's at least lucid enough to know it, cradling it close to his body as if you're going to steal what's left of it.

only his left eye is open, probably the only one that can still make out a damn thing, and he watches you, half-lidded.

an explosion of some sort; probably set off a mine in that airfield north of here. must have walked near 50 kilometers in this direction, which would explain why he's in such a piss-poor state. rifling through his pockets produces hardly anything, save for some lint and a small folding knife — that you do take, for good measure. not once does he try to stop you (as if he even could), choosing instead to take you in the only way he can.

you sit back to check his ears, and his head moves without fight. maelleable. surrendered. his right one is hard to find, underneath the blood. "can you hear me?" unsurprisingly, you receive no response. probably can't hear a thing. "hey. can you hear me?"

but then — he blinks, twice and slow.

behind you, the nuclear glow of night begins to unravel and you can feel it nipping at your skin; cold and chemical, a fresh burn under running water. another quick flash of light means to hurry you along, but you just raise a hand to hitoshi.

"you can hear me?" your voice drops considerably, to a narrowly audible whisper. the kind you would use with a newborn, or when trying to calm a wounded animal. "blink twice."

he does.

something softens in your chest, something that's long since crusted over. you've become so used to finding the threat in everything, you've forgotten what it looks like to need help, and now it's staring you in the face. carmine and bleary and scared. you can't feel his skin beneath your gloves, but you touch the sharp curve of his brow, wiping away the grime.

"hitoshi," you call, "get the horse. and the stretcher."

aizawa doesn't say anything when you get back. no one does. not even him.

it takes effort to care for him, which you think is the lesson you're meant to learn — the hard way. after he's loaded into the house, the hands that tend to him are your own and no one else's; the water you boil for your own bath goes to him, trying to carefully wash his wounds as he watches you, unchanged; for the first two nights, you give him your rations, until you're so hungry that you have to split them.

he doesn't speak to you. doesn't make any sounds, not besides his ever-present wheeze — which you have to get used to sleeping beside. you give him your sleeping bag, though you don't mind the floor as much as you thought you would.

there are no grunts of pain, not even when you have to peel the tattered remains of his clothes from his arm, just to wrap up the gristle that's still attached to him. he'll probably lose it, if he's lucky, but you've got nowhere near that kind of medical expertise and kayama hasn't been back for a few months. longer than anyone has expected. he'll have to wait, just like everyone else.

there's — little you can actually do for him besides bandaid-ing him together, because you're so afraid of hurting him or making any and all of his situations worse that you take your time. too much maybe. pulling a shirt over his head and squeezing warm water out of a towel down his grisly body and even feeding him; you're hardly able to take care of yourself. doing it for someone else proves to be a challenge. lesson learned, though the regret never comes.

three weeks go by, before he tells you his name.

you're sharing a granola bar and a can of peaches from your own personal stash, enjoying the peace and quiet of the dining-room-turned-barracks. hizashi has been taking your watch shifts and in return you've been helping eri out in the garden, tending to the field behind the house so that you can be close, just in case.

("is he going to die?"

she's afraid of him. you can tell by the careful way she watches him, shallow little breath held whenever you help him to stand for another round of clean bandages. she rotates who she sleeps with because she doesn't have a bed of her own, and since you've given your pillow up to your half-man, she's kept her distance, both when awake and not.

"what?"

she swallowed and turned her attention down to her nails, picking at the dirt underneath them as you tossed another potato into the bucket she was holding.

"him. hitoshi said—"

"i don't care what he said." you barked, harsh and in a way you would feel guilty for later, but it made sure she didn't ask again.)

the right half of his face is completely bandaged up, making him look more mummy than man, and his eye is trained on the spoon of peaches you keep feeding him. he takes it patiently, but there's an eagerness to his bite that has you worrying he's going hungry.

he's much bigger than you; that, you could tell even before you got his clothes off. his shoulders are wide, broad, and the strength they carry couldn't have been born from anything but healthy labor. it's been a long time since you've seen someone so well-fed and it makes everyone seem smaller and more feeble in comparison, has you wondering where he could have possibly come from, before he got nearly blown to hell.

you don't care what hitoshi is saying. that he's questioning everything now.

defiantly, you think that maybe if he'd helped with the wound-washing and bandaging, he'd know how much meat and tissue and muscle lies beneath your half-man's skin. no wires or tracking chips. no metal. just human.

you can't explain why he doesn't cry or speak or even cringe, but emotion is in there, somewhere. maybe next to his hunger and his trust. the sense he has to touch you with only gentle, considerate intent.

a 'droid wouldn't do that. all of you know it, from experience.

"i have to go into town soon,"

he watches you carefully, teeth clicking against your spoon when he closes his mouth around it. food gets shoved into the left side of his cheeks on instinct and it reminds you of some rodent you're sure doesn't exist anymore.

"i'll be gone a few days, but i have enough food squared away that no one should bother you." even if they don't want him here, you know the rest of the house won't put him out, not with you gone — but still; you want to take care of the only tension they could have with him. "i'll leave you my pack if it will—"

"i have to go to kamino."

stunned, you look up at him, spoon midway between the two of you. your half-man stares back, blinking as if he's just woken up from a long and fitful sleep.

"you can talk?"

"yes." his brow furrows, as if your question is irrelevant or maybe stupid. "i have to go to kamino."

"uh," now you blink, trying to picture a map in your mind. the miles stretch on the further you think about it. "i don't think you'll get very far with the state you're in."

he nods, suddenly grim, and goes quiet. retreats to a place that's not here, with you, as his eye glazes over and sticks to the floor. you feed yourself a peach in an attempt to sweeten the sour feeling that bubbles up inside you.

you wait as long as you can before speaking again, until you can't take it. "you'll be moving on, then?"

he turns his head, focuses more on your face with his one eye and — you get the feeling it's the first time he's ever looked at you, really. which you know is stupid because he's done nothing but watch you, but now: alive and aware, he catalogues your face, the dip of your shoulder, a stray scar that's jagged across your collarbone.

assigning it to memory, maybe.

"yes. when i'm better."

you shrug, and try to keep your mouth from curling down like it wants to. "might be a while."

"someone's waiting for me."

it makes you feel bitter, though it shouldn't. as if he's throwing all you've done for him in your face even though he's not.

you feel — overwhelmingly embarrassed at yourself, but it doesn't stop the burn that builds in your waterline.

people are so scarce these days, an endangered species. finding one to tuck into a worn sleeping bag, to rinse the dirt from their hair and help them with their clothes, to become reliant on the white-noise sound of their wheeze — it happened too easily. lesson learned.

your half-man shuffles in front of you, nodding back at to the granola until you're feeding him again. a spell has been broken now, and because he's talked and shown plans to leave, you think he should maybe be feeding himself. but what the hell.

cheek full, he asks, "you know where kamino is?"

again, you picture the map in your mind, frowning at the distance. "it's not close."

"can you take me there?"

you shake your head; whiplash. two days ago, he couldn't stand on his own and now he's trying to lead an expedition half-way across the country. briefly, you picture it: him and you, snaking down the beaten path, avoiding the highways and finding old 100-yen shops to sleep in. using the aisle shelves like a bunk-bed, him on the bottom. wheezing until you're lulled to sleep.

when you look back at him, he's frowning. "i-what? me?"

again he makes that face: furrowed brow, mouth slanted like he can't comprehend your question — or why you've asked it.

"i can't just," you glance back, checking the room for open ears. "i can't just leave them."

"why not?"

"because," now you frown. "they've — been good to me and i don't want to abandon them." you close your eyes and you're in the dark again, being eaten up by ants and the dry, nuclear heat of summer. left to die, all alone. "they saved me."

it's silent for a long time, his voice echoing in your ears now that you've heard it. when you blink back into the here and now, he's just staring down at the floor again, already gone.

"besides," you continue, more eager to hear him speak than you're willing to admit. "i don't even know who you are."

"bakugou katsuki," he murmurs, automatic. his eye flicks to you and — you think it could be glowing, in the low light. carmine, like the burn of a fire. "my name is bakugou katsuki."

you and hitoshi find treasure in a nearly ran-sacked pharmacy; enough antibiotics to last a while, maybe longer if everyone is careful enough to avoid scrapes and burns and scratches. there's a tub of vaseline and a dented can of coffee grounds, something that aizawa will be ecstatic about, even if he doesn't have a half-decent way to use them.

it takes a day and a half to get into town because you only travel at night, and you spend a chilly evening under a crumbling overpass, housed in the rubble. shinsou even shares his beans. all around a win-win, in your book.

it's not until you're on the way back that disaster strikes.

you get comfortable, pig-headed from the weight of the haul on your back, and you cut across a desolate highway in an attempt to shorten the trip. both of you are too eager to get back and share your spoils, and it makes you careless.

hitoshi is in the middle of probing you about bakugou, when aqua lights flash off the failing frame of an old house.

"'m jus' sayin'," he grunts, shrugging. "he's pretty weird, don't you think?"

you don't want to answer him, but his question is so childish that you can't help it. "so are you, but i'm not judgin', am i?"

even in the dark, his wide smile is obvious, and he opens his mouth to retort something that will surely infuriate you when it seems as if the whole sky lights up. you know it doesn't really, but the neighborhood has been nothing but the skeleton of the world before, and to see the light after only traveling in the dark almost has you blinded.

hitoshi grabs you by the arm and you're being dragged through the dirt before you have time to blink. he doesn't have to tell you to keep quiet; you hold your breath, mouth open, tasting only the salt from his palm and your own fear.

the night-cover is meant to protect from raiders and feral animals.

aizawa says that the 'droids are heat-seeking.

aizawa says, "there's no hiding from them."

you're both bent awkwardly behind a mound of rusted scrap metal and old rubber, legs and back folded to better blend in, though you have no idea if you even will, and the light flashes like a heartbeat in the distance. a block or two down, you think, if you're as good with distance as you think you are, and you track the echo of it underneath the remaining war-haze that blocks the stars.

not even a thought crosses your mind as it trails across the horizon, getting further and further away until it stops completely. and then fear sets in like a cold sweat.

during what few run-ins you've had with the todoroki 'droids, they've never just — gone away; they have to be dismantled, head pried from their shoulders. a thick piece of some kind of metal you've never known the name of sits at the base of their skull, soldered beneath their fake, translucent skin, and getting it off is a bitch and a half.

but if you don't, it won't stop. ever.

you have to get out of here, far away before it gets closer and hears the rapid drum of your heart, but — should you run? no doubt it'll hear your footsteps across the ground, every breath that rushes from your lungs, and it'll reach you way before you can get —

hitoshi moves his hand from your mouth and your eyes flick up to his, the direction he points to — south, back to the safehouse — but it's hard to move your limbs from where they've frozen over with cold fear. your hands are shaking, shoulders, too, but you slowly push yourself to your feet, crouching close to him.

he doesn't say anything, and he won't; you've just got to trust him.

it's been so long since you've encountered one. since you've even seen one this far out. you're half a day from the house, but that's still close, in the grand scheme of things. dangerously, your mind dips into dread, imagining the copper smell of your encampment, if they've been found first.

you can't go there. not now.

hitoshi takes low, careful steps away from the corroded junk metal, crossing from dead tree to dead tree as softly as he can, and you follow even as tears well up in your eyes.

all you can see is eri's little face. the last thing you said to her. how shouta gripped hitoshi's shoulders, murmuring something meant for only him.

how bakugou looked, forlorn, on the inside of the porch screen as you headed off into the night.

you can't go there. not now.

walking so close to the ground strains the muscles in your calves and they burn, full of fire and tension, but you trail him as long as you can, for what feels like hours before you're finally out of the neighborhood and back on the barely-trodden trail. it's not until you can stand that you finally breathe — or at least, that's how it feels, with how tightly your lungs have shriveled — and shinsou turns to stare at you, wide-eyed.

"what the fuck!" he whispers, harsh, before pointing to where you've come. "what the fuck!"

"i know!"

"no, not 'you know', this isn't a fucking coincidence!"

all your fear crescendos, crumbles into fury. "what?" you snap back from him as if he's slapped you, teeth bared, feral.

"he's a goddamn infiltrator!" no names need to be said in order for the message to get across. "another fucking hunk of tin!"

"you don't know anything," you say it for nothing, because he won't stop talking over you. "i've had his blood all over my fucking hands, hitoshi! his arm is nothing but a wad of meat and bone, and you'd know that if you—"

"hello."

hitoshi spins around before your argument finishes settling on the air, placing himself between you and the half-crouched figure watching you from the tree line. hands raised in surrender. just like bakugou.

in no time, the both of you have your rifles loaded, staring down the reticle with the stranger's head in your sights.

"i'm alone," the man says, and you see a flash of white hair as he fully stands. the first thing you notice about him, is how immaculate he seems. untouched by the wasteland. "i just need some help."

"back off," shinsou barks, bumping into you as he takes a step backward, urging you to do the same. "turn around and forget you ever saw us."

"i just need some help." he says again — but his eyes glow blue in the shadows, hands clicking beneath his fleshy exterior, and then before you know it, an alarm screams, ringing so high in pitch that you're forced to drop your gun and cover your ears.

it doesn't last long; hitoshi manages to fire his rifle, clipping off half of its head just as it lunges for the both of you. it stumbles to the ground, sparking and zapping as it repeats "i just need some help, i just need some help," over and over and over, until hitoshi is firing down on it again, right at the height of its neck.

the world goes so silent, it hurts; you can feel a deep and thrumming pain in your ear canal, and when you pull your hands from your head, they're wet and dark in the hazy night glow. hitoshi tries to say something, but it's muffled, and then he's pushing you along in the night until you're both sprinting. running as fast and as far as your body will carry you.

it's day, when you reach the house.

aizawa doesn't care half as much about the coffee as he does about the noise you've made, that they heard all the way out here. he toys with his eye-patch, headache apparent on him as he rubs at the vein protruding in his forehead.

he's not mad at you, he says, but you'll have to be on the lookout. for what's sure to come, in the following days. boarding up the house, starting the generators around the property, just for the extra heat and distraction. you'll have to take longer watch-shifts, all of you. even eri.

day-old blood trickles down your shoulders and into the tub, when you dump a bucket of water over your head. it's the first thing you do — try and wash the excursion from your skin — and even though the water is warm and fresh-boiled, you can't stop shivering. digging your fingers into your arms as you hug yourself, head throbbing.

maybe it's because you haven't slept that you still feel like you're in that neighborhood, holding your breath as the neon warning flashes. if you close your eyes, it breathes behind your lids, white-hot and blinding. and your ears —

you barely register the door creaking, eyes snapping open as bakugou peeks his head in.

a fucking infiltrator.

your jaw loses tension as soon as it finds it, has you wincing from the ache, and you close your eyes and turn away from him. he should be able to take the hint. if he's human, then he'll understand how badly you want to be left alone. how badly you need to weigh your options, as the end looms over you all.

something buzzes in your ear, and when you turn to look back at him, he's sitting on the edge of the tub, staring down at the cloudy water.

"what?"

his eye snaps up to your own. aizawa's loaned an eye-patch to him and all his head wrappings are gone, leaving him to look, truly, like a half-man; scar and tissue and pink, with all his tenderness.

another fucking hunk of tin.

("you have to destroy they back of their neck. you have to, eri, do you hear me?"

she looked so young, so tiny, with a gun in her hands.

"they're all connected, and they can all track each other. one after another, they'll keep coming.")

you miss what bakugou says to you again and you shift, angling your head before shaking it.

"can you hear me?" he repeats, and you read the soft words against his lips. "blink twice if you can hear me."

and you do, slowly, leaving them closed as they burn with unshed, nuclear-hot tears.

it makes you jump, when his finger lightly touches your forehead, near your brow, and he watches with simple interest as water droplets collect on his skin. he trails lower, just under your ear, and then his brow furrows. that red gleam returns to his eye, like he's just waking up again.

"y'r bleedin'."

"not anymore," you can feel yourself talking too loud. "it's — fine." you mean for him to move his hand away, but he doesn't. and you don't make him.

instead it goes to your hair, where it's down and plastered against your skin, and he very carefully tucks it behind your ear before angling your head, as if he can see the damage better. he leans close, eye intent on where his skin meets yours.

and you can't take it anymore, as the tears finally run over your cheeks. "what the fuck are you?"

bakugou is half through a wheeze when you ask, and he stutters and coughs and — you just don't know. you can't fucking tell.

how human he seems. how gentle he can be.

how different he is.

"what?" he rasps, signature confusion decorating his half-face. "what the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"i'll tell them," you seethe, though you don't mean word of it. "if you don't tell the truth right now, then i'll tell them what you are." a bitter laugh huffs out of you and his eyes narrow, annoyed almost. "who am i kidding? they probably already know and are just waiting to take your ass out. as soon as i give the word."

"i don't know what the fuck you're talkin' about."

"don't fucking lie to me," the words are lost to your ears, echoing somewhere in your skull — and even then, you can tell how desperate they sound. his eye tracks a fat, hot tear that slips from your own. "please don't lie."

bakugou doesn't answer, just frowns at your cheeks, and then he moves his hand to stroke the fat of them, gently. as always. he collects the tear on his finger and inspects it carefully, closely, before tasting it with the pink tip of his tongue; you and all your salt.

when he fixes his eye on you — so bright and red and alive — you lurch forward in the water, grabbing his face in your hands before yanking his mouth down to your own.

he grunts, loud and surprised, and he's hardly able to catch himself, hand going flat against the ceramic between your legs. you breathe him in deep through your nose: the subtly sweet scent of his sweat, the bitter fall air that's clinging to his soft skin — decayed leaves and earth and stratosphere, something foriegn and strangely clean.

your lips part his and your tongue slips into his mouth and he gasps lowly, sliding his hand in the water closer to you, moving in to press back against you with just as much hunger. it fans the flames to life in your belly and you drag him further into the water, until he has no choice but to fall in, knee thudding against the tub as he lets out a quiet "ow" against your lips.

you don't care — don't know how or what to care about — and you pull back from him to yank at the bottom of his shirt, stretching it out until he's able to slip it off his head, around the bandaged remnant of his arm with a little more concern; funny, how it's always him that's being careful.

in a world like this one, maybe that really does make him the outlier. maybe that really does mean he's something inhuman.

the thought threatens to make you sick and your lips tremble, scooting closer to hug your face into his warm, toned body as he struggles with the button on his pants. they're soaked and sticking to him and he gives up half-way through, instead moving to cup the back of your head so he can kiss you again. you note that he still tastes like peaches, just as saccharine.

you help him out of his worn jeans — which really is a struggle, thanks to you and your forcefulness — and you try not to be so obvious in your inspection of his dick. on a handful of occasions, you and hitoshi have fooled around and it's always been just like this: desperate. the need to feel skin on skin. to know that you're still alive.

when you wrap a hand around him, he sucks in a breath and groans into your mouth, pressing you back against the tub so he can hike your legs up around his hips. your not as ready as you could be, but you don't even care about that right now; you wet your fingers with your tongue even though you're half in the water and circle the swollen tip of him, watching the lip he digs his teeth into, his eye as it lids, as if he really feels it.

and you want him to really feel it.

the burn is good. the burn is what you want, though the quiet "fuck" he gasps into your ear has you shuddering. bakugou places a clumsy kiss on your cheek, where your tears have dried, and you want to hate him. for what he may be. for how soft he feels, as the water sloshes out onto the floor with every slow grind of his hips.

you want him to fuck you until the ringing is finally gone from your ears — but instead he's careful like he wants this to last, and it only cements something deep in your weary chest, something you might never get out.

his tongue drags across your lower lip until you open your mouth for him and he kisses you deep and messy and wet, so that a thin line of saliva connects you two when he pulls back, and the sight has his hips snapping a little harder. he watches you so intently, hooked on the drop of your mouth, when you tilt your head back to gasp at the ceiling.

"fuck," he hisses again, leaning in to lick a hot stripe up your throat. "y-y'r so—"

you want him to shut up and stop making your heart thunder in your ears, so you press your lips back to his, even if the two of you are just gasping and groaning into one another. there's never been enough time or privacy for anything sentimental and everything between you and shinsou has been quick and wordless, something the two of you hardly acknowledge outside of the moments you need one another.

but this is entirely unfamilair; you can feel yourself growing impatient, a hot desire coiling at the base of your spine as you slip down a little more against the ceramic, to angle your hips up so he can fuck into you hard enough to bring new tears to your eyes. your fingers scrape against the bottom of the tub and he squeezes his eye shut, muffling a long moan into the skin of his shoulder when you clench around him.

his cheeks are warm, you realize, red in the crappy light filtering through the foggy window. flushed, burning with all his blood, and you reach a wet hand up to trace his face, just as he had yours. the action makes him slow, and he angles his head into your palm like a cat, nosing at your dripping fingertips until a small laugh huffs from your nose. bakugou watches you quietly, though a smile ghosts the edge of his lips.

the first one of his you've ever seen.

gently, you slip your fingers under the strap of his eye-patch and he tilts his head so you can pull it loose and —

you don't know what you're expecting: another neon bulb, just like the aqua glow that had tracked you in the dark or maybe a dim light, powered by batteries and wires and his mechanical heart; instead you just find an eye, human and destroyed. cloudy, like the sun behind a post-war haze.

"c'mere," you murmur to him, slipping your ankles up to his shoulders as he thrusts into you shallowly once, stuttering through his breath as he sinks all the way in. you wait until his shoulders are trembling, until you're barely able to speak with the whine in your voice. "i'll—go with you—to kamino."

bakugou nods once, eye so full of something warm and soft and human before he kisses you, punctuating each press of his lips with a harsh rut of his hips. he moves his hand to the edge of the tub, gripping the ceramic so tightly that it creaks before his pace increases, as he drives you closer and closer to the end. one you welcome.

you wrap an arm around his neck and dig your nails into his skin and whisper into his ear, encouraging him; "fuck, yes, katsuki, right—oh—" and he shudders, hardly able to steady himself through your orgasm before his own hits him, has him pulling out late to cum on your half-submerged stomach.

he groans lightly and slumps down onto you, devolving into another lazy, messy kiss as his fingers tangle into your hair. lips sliding against your own, just because, like he can't get enough of it.

bright, aware, alive, he quietly murmurs into the heavy, damp space between you, "don't abandon me."

and you fear that you couldn't even if you tried.

two days trail by in charged silence.

eyes are open at all times in the house, ears, too, as the quite invites itself into every nook and cranny. at times you catch even bakugou holding his breath, muting his still lingering wheeze; it's not getting any better, and you hate to think of what that means, but it's not getting any worse, either, and so you take that for what it is.

he becomes — touchy, obviously so. always feeling you in some way; fingers trailing up the inside of your arm or tucking strays behind your ear, thumbing your lobe gently, as if he's afraid to worsen the damage you're still healing from. you share the sleeping bag and he sleeps with his nose in your hair, breath against the nape of your neck.

sometimes he lays with his head on your chest, just listening to the drum of your heart.

hitoshi doesn't speak to you. hardly looks, with bakugou by your side — and he always is. you can't tell if he's still angry or if it's dissolved into something worse; a wound eating up his skin. the silence from him makes you feel guilty, as if there are sides now and you've picked the wrong one. betrayed him somehow.

the remorse never lasts long though, not when bakugou is following close behind you to the barn out back, sighing into your mouth and hugging your body to his, tight, like he wants to breathe through you.

he's very touchy. eager, as if this is something he hasn't had before.

you suppose you haven't either. not like this.

you're coming out of (what used to be) the kitchen when you see it. brushing tangles out of your hair with your fingers, distracted by the shape of his silhouette in the front of the window.

he's peeking through the boards, always on high alert as aizawa has instructed him to be. his back is to you and you count the crescents you've left on his skin, frowning at how easily they disappear into the constellation of his scars.

now that his head wrappings have come off, you can see the new growth of his hair, what was singed off in the blast he's still never told you about. he's a little damp, just like you, fresh from the bath neither of you really took, and his skin looks extra pink and tender, soft.

and there is a little gray symbol on his scalp, faint and ruined, trying to survive among his wreckage.

maybe you gasp and that's why he turns around; you don't know because you still have a hard time hearing and you disconnect completely from your body, ears ringing like they did only nights ago.

he's without his eyepatch. it's still sitting on the counter, where he tossed it before slipping into the water, between your legs as his mouth found yours. insistent. hungry. like he knew what that even meant.

you don't say anything at first. don't even move. and you watch the recognition come to life in his eye, as his hand slowly goes to the back of his head.

carefully, he says, "it's not what it looks like."

when you don't respond, he takes a step toward you, coming up short when you retreat; a marionette of his movements. whatever is wired in him to display pain does, finally.

bakugou sighs, squeezing his eyes shut before trying again. "i'm not—"

"liar."

his expression falters. a glitch, you tell yourself.

"you're a liar." it's such a simple truth and yet it cuts so deep, all your trust blown to bits as he becomes exactly what you feared he would.

a goddamn infiltrator. another fucking hunk of tin.

you feel sick, suddenly, swollen with regret as your stomach churns. the todoroki corporation must be making them differently, attempting to blend them into what remains of the human population by weaving veins and replicating tissue and sculpting muscle and —

"it's not what you think."

what even spills out of him, when he cums? you've never thought to look before, too distracted by the addicting press of his lips, how he strokes your tongue with his own as if he could never get tired of it. there are only so many places you can find to yourselves; the barn is dark and he wipes your skin off with his own shirt; the bathtub is half-full, sometimes murky from the dirt that the water washes away.

"don't—listen, 'm not like them. it's not like that."

he must be programmed that way to protect himself. to lie, to deflect. all the gentle touching is another line of code they've perfected, meant to leave you thinking of nothing else except for how he feels inside of you.

and you fell right for it. lesson learned.

it's not a little flame that identifies him, like the rest of the 'droids, but a small, cartoon bomb. lit, ready to explode.

aizawa keeps a loaded handgun underneath his pillow, and you lunge for it just as he dives for you.

you hit the floor hard, but so does he, and he's damaged, rusted, and you're able to scoot yourself far away from him, smooth material of the sleeping bag hurrying you along.

bakugou — or whatever he is. it is — only rises up on his knees, arm raised in surrender. just like before. just like the last one.

the second he — it — opens its mouth, you're already screaming, furious.

"fuck you!" the safety clicks; even you hear the echo of it, in the silence of the house.

"no, listen," it begs, alarm and panic and fear generating across its face. sickening, how real it seems. "i need your—"

you bark out a laugh, and it's because your cheeks swell with it that you realize they're wet and that your nose is dripping. "what, my help? digging all our graves, or do you even do that? do you even know what that—"

you choke, suddenly, voice breaking as he — it — tries to scoot closer. you should fire a warning shot or — no, you should just kill him. it.

when you shoot this gun, everyone will come running. they might have already overheard your shouting, with how quiet the property is, and you know once they do, it's over for him.

it.

"you have to believe me."

a trick, you tell yourself. meant to distract you, to take your unease away. scripted to find the softest parts of you, to poison.

sickening, how real it felt.

when you close your eyes, you go back to last night, listening to the audible breath that scratches in your ear. that vibrates against you neck, so that you can feel him, that he's there and safe and alive.

him. bakugou.

you can't look. it's hard enough to find your voice. "how long d-do we have? at least tell me that, before they get here."

"i don't know what the fuck you're talkin' about," an echo. a repeat of the lines he's learned to say to you. "because i'm not one of them, listen—"

bakugou — it — goes silent, and when you open your eyes, the barrel of a rifle is peeking in from the other room, only a breath away from his head.

hitoshi rounds him carefully, slipping around the back of him, urging you to move out of his line of sight. so he can blow him to hell, once and for all.

it.

quietly, the voice — one you know, one you've listened to — tries one final time. "please," it says, cloudy eye pinned to you, as he wears an illusionary sorrow. "don't abandon me."

hitoshi watches you carefully, waiting for you to move and —

(bakugou tucks a hair behind your ear, running the pad of his thumb gently across your browbone. just as you'd done, on the night he lay crumpled at your feet.

good to you, good to each other, in a world rigged to blow.)

you don't.

instead you drop your arms and shake your head. surrendered.

"sorry," you croak, running a hand across your face. "my ears, he—just scared me, that's all."

hitoshi doesn't retreat. if anything, his grip tightens, something flashing in his deep eyes. "don't bullshit me, not me. he's fucked and you know it—"

"you're right," you nod, bottom lip trembling as it — bakugou — watches the tears slip down over your jaw and onto your neck. "but we're leaving."

you close your eyes, blinded by the breath of light that flashes behind your lids. the image of bakugou pressing a kiss into your cheeks.

"i have to get him to kamino."

#[ bakugou ]#bakugou x fem!reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou smut #maybe this is so cringe but human x android romance gets my fucking goat #the IMPLICATIONS the HUMANITY the ROMANCE and UNDERSTANDING #there is so much involved on such an emotional level #not saying that's what this is though 👀#who can say for sure 👀

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arlecchno · 2 years ago

Text

mission accomplished [ scaramouche x reader ]

twelve | trial day

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in a blink of an eye, a month has passed, and the day you've been quailing from finally comes. question is, have you even prepared for this moment?

warnings: swearing, overthinking, mentions and appearance of the fatui harbingers (dottore, arlecchino, childe and pierro), kaeya is hinted as pierro's son (not canon) (y/n shoots a shot lmao), comfort

a/n: woohoo i feel pretty good about this chapter!!! this one is pretty longer than the other ones so i hope everyone enjoys reading it lol i had a lot of fun writing this, happy reading!

grammatical errors may occur so please let me know if i've made any mistakes!

you woke up the next morning alone on the couch, with a blanket half draped over your body.

scanning through the room with tired eyes, you realised that, scaramouche, wasn't here. you stood up from the couch, checking the hallway and his room to see if he was there, but he wasn't.

he's probably on an errand or something, you thought to yourself.

the only thing scaramouche left behind before he went out was a small sticky note on the coffee table, saying that he'd be out for a quick run.

well, you guessed it'd be nice to take a nice shower before you start your day.

on another note, maybe you should've just continued sleeping on the couch.

“the court declined your proposal.” a gruff voice said on your laptop screen.

you sighed upon hearing that the court have refused your proposal to push back the date for a trial you're involved in, once again. “please check it thoroughly again, lieutenant. who knows you've read it wrong.” you pinched the bridge of your nose in frustration.

the man in the screen deadpanned. “i'm not that old, y/n. i still have pretty good eyesight.” he huffed. “you can check it yourself.” he said, sharing his screen to show the response from the court.

you took a moment to read through the letter shown on your laptop screen, and as soon as you saw the word ‘unfortunately’, you stopped and groaned in defeat, leaning back to your bed frame.

“can you believe this? i– i'm literally stuck being undercover here! how in the world am i supposed to get to court for this... this stupid trial!” you exclaimed frustratedly, eyes twitching at the thought of having to leave from undercover for the whole day. it'll be worse if the trial keeps getting dragged on, you'll quite literally die.

“is... there any other way we could ditch this or something, pierro? i can't just leave from being undercover!” you looked back at your screen. “and scaramouche is a witness for me, he'd have no choice but to follow me for that trial.”

pierro sighed on the other line. “sorry y/n, there's nothing we can do about this. i'm sure this is very hard for you, since it's of late notice.” he paused, looking at your complexed expression.

“we'll try our best to fill in for you and scaramouche when you two are away for the trial. i could send out childe or arlecchino to be on campus for awhile, just to look out in case anything happens.” pierro said, writing down some notes on a paper.

the usual busy background of the precint behind him surely never gets old. the people walking back to back, the holding cell full of suspects, and whatnot. it's been a long time since you last went undercover, so looking at your co-workers doing their normal routine at the prestigious precint you truly love makes you feel a tad bit homesick.

“...fine.” you replied after a short while.

“is scaramouche there with you?”

you scratched your head in response. “um... he went out for a run, i think he'll be back soon–” your sentence was interrupted when the sound of a door being opened and closed was heard, footsteps slowly becoming louder and clearer by the second.

“nevermind, he just got back. you want me to get him?”

a nod from lieutenant pierro was all it took for you to shout scaramouche's name, surprisingly it took less than a second for him to rush and barged in to your room.

“what? did something happen?” he asked through heavy breaths. he was clad in a tank top and a pair of joggers, glistening with sweat.

you raised a brow. “nothing happened. lieutenant just wants to speak with you.” you said, moving your laptop to his direction for him to see that you were currently on a call with the bearded man.

he sighed. stepping closer to your bed, he sat at the edge of it, making you grimace.

“ew, what the hell! get your sweaty ass off my clean bed, you jerk!” you yelled at the ravenette while bringing up a hand to push him off, though you instantly regretted it the moment you got in contact with his bare shoulder that was full off sweat.

you yelped, quickly wiping off his disgusting sweat from your hand on his dry joggers. he swatted your hand away and sent a death glare, gritting his teeth.

“i'm barely on your bed, idiot! and i'm not that disgusting, it's just sweat!” he retorted, making you roll your eyes.

you crossed your arms and looked away from him. “it's your sweat.” you pressed. “anything about you is revolting.”

“and yet you slept on me last night.”

your eyes widened at his sentence. “wha–”

pierro cleared his throat on the other line, making the both of you turn your heads towards the laptop screen. “good, you two didn't forget me. anyway, as i was saying...” he trailed off, glancing at the notes he's written. “the trial's gonna be next month, i'll let you know a few days prior so that you two can be prepared.” he said, looking back at you and the ravenette.

“i do not condone on making you skip your undercover duties, but i think we can have it covered. i'll have to send some of these guys here to fill in for you two for the time being.” he continued, while you and scaramouche listened to him intently.

“we're driving there ourselves?” you asked the white-haired man in the screen.

he was typing something on his keyboard before responding. “you can drive halfway there, we'll meet up somewhere and pick you two up. i don't want to risk people finding out where you're off to, and i want you to not let anyone follow your car, got it?”

scaramouche nodded. “copy that.”

“...okay then, that's all i have to say. any of you got any questions?”

you slightly raised your hand, in which made the ravenette next to you scoff, mumbling about how you're acting like a high school student, but you paid no mind.

“yes, detective, what is it?” he asked, urging you to continue.

you lit up at his reply, making you the more confident to ask your next question. “is kaeya still–”

“nope.” he said flatly with no expression on his face.

you grumbled. “worth a shot.”

and next thing you know, it was already the next month.

you spent the last 4 weeks doing nothing but being miserable, dreading on the trial date you've been trying to avoid all these months. it really surprises you how time flies so fast, and how it's already been 3 months since you started going undercover.

maybe it is true when people say that days pass on more quickly whenever you wish for it to be slower.

the clear afternoon sky definitely does not make up for the blues you've got right now. the breezy wind blows through the colourful trees as you got ready for the trial.

you looked at yourself dressed in formal attire through the mirror in your room, fixing up small details to make your outfit look as neat as possible.

sighing, you went back to pacing around the exceptionally small room, biting your thumb nail anxiously. your thoughts start getting bundled up the more you think about the trial.

isn't this too fast?

what if he's not guilty?

are you even mentally prepared for this?

what happens when the judge doesn't press charges?

what will you do when the man who almost took your dear life walks out free?

the voices in your head get louder. if's turning into when's, questions getting longer and longer by the minute, it's fucking you all up. it's wrecking your mind into small pieces that you can't even help to fix back. the voices become clearer, repeating dreadful questions every second.

are you ready for this?

how will you do?

what if you mess up?

why do the worst things always happen to you?

the sound of a knock brought you back to reality.

“y/n? you ready yet?” scaramouche asked from the other side of the door.

you stopped pacing around. “oh, uh... i'll be there in a sec.” you muttered, not even knowing if scaramouche heard you or not.

are you ready?

the same question repeated in your mind.

yeah.

maybe you're not.

“took you long enough.” scaramouche said, leaning on the wall in front of your door with his arms crossed.

you closed the door behind you. “it hasn't even been a minute.” you rolled your eyes despite scaramouche not being able to see as you had your back to him. turning around, your eyes immediately landed on his indigo ones that were already staring at you the moment you got out.

you took a quick scan of his attire. dressed in a simple black suit, blazer unbuttoned and necktie slightly loose, he stood before you. he isn't even dressed well, you thought. letting out a sigh, you walked over to scaramouche.

hands landing on his collar and necktie, you helped him fix his tie. “you can't even be bothered to fix yourself up properly, can you?” you chastised, loosening up the tie a bit before pulling it down again to tighten it.

he was pulled forward in response to you pulling his tie, making him breaths away from you. surprisingly you didn't notice, considering how you paid no mind and continued your ministrations, now fixing up his crooked collar.

his breath hitched the second you stepped towards him, and for a moment he couldn't quite remember how to breathe. the faint smell of your perfume filled his nostrils due to the proximity you two were currently in. his hands were hovering over your hips, too frozen up to even move.

buttoning up his blazer, you fixed his attire for one last time before you retracted your hands, looking up at him with a small smile. “there we go.” you said, patting up his shoulder.

you stepped back and exited the hallway, calling out for him to follow suit, not even minding how you've quite literally took his breath away.

one of his hands hovered over his mouth in disbelief, the colour red slowly creeping up his ears from being flustered.

what is this feeling?

the drive to the agreed location was fairly quiet, you and scaramouche just sat in silence. the radio to his car wasn't even on. you were scrolling through your phone in boredom while the ravenette was focusing on the road.

before completely heading off, you two have made sure to check whether anyone was following by looking if there were any cars behind you at every turn scaramouche made. luckily, there weren't any, and the road wasn't busy like always.

childe and arlecchino were assigned to take care of things at campus while the both of you were gone. you've known them long enough to know that they're great detectives and that they'd do a good job at taking care of your work, after all pierro was the one who assigned them, you surely have no doubts.

right?

“we're here.” scaramouche said, pulling up at... wait, what?

“...dottore's house? why is this our agreed location?” you asked dumbly, looking at the doctor's house from the driveway you were parked at.

you didn't know where you were headed to, since pierro only sent the location to scaramouche as he was the one driving. you only realised it was dottore's house when you caught glimpse of the dark turquoise roof of the house, his signature colour outstanding every other house in the neighborhood.

dottore isn't a police officer like the most of you are, but he's a close acquaintance of pierro, and he's usually the one who treats everyone's wounds and injuries whenever needed, so you could say he's a friend. keyword, could.

a knock on the window to your door made you jolt, moving your gaze to person outside the car. you pushed the button on the door to roll the window down, while still continuing eye contact with the person behind the clear window.

“my favourite person in the world!” dottore exclaimed after your window was completely down, waving at you with a mischievous smile.

“ugh, great, now i have to deal with you.” you said shortly after, a deadpanned look on your face upon seeing the man before you. “why do we have to be here?”

dottore brought a hand to his chest. “you wound me, y/n. i thought you'd be more than delightful to be greeted by yours truly!” he said dramatically, a hurtful expression plastered on his face.

you turned your head to scaramouche, mouthing a 'can you believe this guy?', in which scaramouche responded with a simple shrug. you groaned, looking back at the man with light turquoise hair, sending a death glare towards him.

“come on now, i'm not the bad guy here.” he brought up his hands in defense. “pierro thought it'd be a great idea to make my place where we pick you up, looking at how i'm not exactly affiliated with the police department. people wouldn't suspect me at all.”

you grumbled. “ugh, you of all people...”

you didn't exactly dislike dottore. you just have an ounce of hatred towards him because of something he did back in the day, but you wouldn't press it now.

if you had an enemies list, he'd totally be third, scaramouche being number one on the list without a doubt. second? this one dude who kept on stealing your parking spot at the precint. he must be having the time of his life right now with you being gone.

a honk of another car made the three of you look towards the sound it came from. pierro was sitting in the passenger seat of a honda jade hybrid car beside yours with his arms crossed, a sour look on his face, probably from waiting for too long.

“well, looks like that's our sign to get going.” dottore quipped.

if you think your usual car rides with scaramouche were awkward enough, then this is way worse.

everyone in the 6-seater car was silent, not even uttering a single word. dottore was the one who was driving, and due to how he's kind of a reckless driver, pierro had personally given him a lecture on how he should be focused on the road. now he opted to just drive in silence, instead of his usual jamming-through-blasting-music self.

pierro on the other hand was sitting at the passenger seat, eyes overlooking the scenery in front of him, while occasionally glancing at the back through the rear view mirror.

the back is where it gets exceptionally awkward. you were very much shocked when you were greeted with the tsaritsa sitting in the front row seat once you got in the car, you didn't think she'd be coming along. the captain usually likes sitting alone, so you decided to just cramp at the back row with scaramouche, despite his many attempts on making you sit next to her.

the court was quite far from dottore's place, since the trial is being held to the nearest court from the prison the prime suspect was placed at. all five of you sat in silence, minding your own business, until the tsaritsa herself speaks up.

“how's the case going for you two?” she asked, not even sparing a glance to your seat.

you looked at scaramouche first to see if he wanted to answer, and of course he didn't. you rolled your eyes at him, before answering to the captain. “it's going quite alright. though it's kind of been slow these past two months, it'd be nice if we had a bit of a breakthrough.”

the tsaritsa perked her head up at this, slightly turning her head back to look at you. “oh? would you like my help on that?” she questioned, raising a brow. “i can always work on getting some connections from that campus, and maybe host something big to see if anything happens. i certainly did not win an award for being the best captain in the police department for nothing.”

scaramouche knitted his brows, scoffing at her. “you've had connections this whole time? why didn't you use that first thing before making us go undercover?”

she brought up a hand to cover her mouth in embarrassment. “oh dear, i must have forgotten... my apologies.” she simply said, but from the tone of her voice, it was clear that she did not sound sorry in the slightest.

the rest of the car ride was silent once again.

while everyone else were doing their own thing, you were busy being bundled up with the emotions that's been crashing down on you since this morning. the unforgettable thoughts and thousands of imaginable scenarios keep lingering your mind, despite trying your best to not just burst out and have a breakdown.

why you? of all people?

why do you have to go through so much?

what have you ever done?

do you deserve this?

all you've ever wished the whole time growing up was to succeed on getting the dream job you've helplessly worked hard for, but now that you did, was it really worth it?

if it wasn't for this tedious career, you wouldn't have gotten shot and broke your leg. if it wasn't for this stupid position, you wouldn't have to stay in the hospital for months just to be treated to physical therapy for half a year right after you got discharged. and if it wasn't for this shitty job, you definitely wouldn't have to face the man that has made your life miserable ever since that one night.

so you asked yourself again, was everything you've worked your whole life for even worth it?

your thoughts were interrupted when a pale hand caught yours.

looking up from your head that was hanging low, you fixate your now glossy eyes to the man beside you. instead of his usual scowl face, you were greeted with a worried look.

“y/n, you okay?” he asked, voice barely a whisper. he did not want other people in the car to turn their heads back to him if they heard him asking such a question, loud and clear.

you blinked, unknowingly letting a tear fall down your cheek. he quickly brought up his free hand to wipe it away. “are you sure you're ready for this?”

you let out an airy chuckle. “honestly...? no.” you whispered, looking down to your lap. “everything just feels so... fast, y'know?”

scaramouche hummed, caressing your palm with his thumb. “look— i've got you okay?” he reassured, tilting your chin up with his other hand to make you look at him.

“‘we can go through this together.’ ” he quoted. “that's what you've always said to me whenever i was going through hard times. i'm guessing it's my turn now to say the same to you.” scaramouche remarked, putting up a faint smile for you.

you smiled at him in return. “yeah, that's definitely something i'd say.” you replied, the lingering thoughts slowly drifting off your mind from his sappy words.

“so, what do you say? we go through this together?” he asked you softly, making you brighten up.

you grasped his hand that was holding yours. “like we always do.”

the same question comes back to you once again. but this time, it came with an answer.

is everything you've poured your whole life for worth it?

if it means that you get to meet amazing people on your daily job and doing what you love, then the answer to this is a simple yes— it definitely is.

if you wanna know what a jade hybrid looks like you can watch it here lol

the tsaritsa is the goddess of love for a reason hehe

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