#nothing wrong with them- arms just makes expressions more varied

[quirkycritters]

Behold, the second half of my Art Fight attacks! IM FREEEEEEE YEAHHHHHHHH (come find me on AF!)

In order, these are for @little-angelbun , @hammieboye1 , @kazehita , @bunbiiit , @wiltingthing , Snakeheart , @helmetavenue , and NightfuryDraws !

I had a blast getting to experiment with and practice my toon style this year, and this was barely a fraction of what I had planned- looking forward to next year YIPPEEEEE

[hannieehaee]

them accidentally ditching you on your bday - vu

hhu, vu, pu

content: angsty, gender neutral, established relationship, etc.

part 2

wc: 4537

a/n: thank u to the people who requested this <3 so sorry its so longshdkks pls lmk if u want a pt. 2 with a resolution. not proofread btw </3

masterlist

jeonghan -

jeonghan wasn't a big drinker by any means. sure, he enjoyed the occasional drink with his friends, but it wasnt much of a habit. being a member of seventeen, however, it was quite often that he found himself around alcohol. quite a few of his members enjoyed sharing drinks with one another whenever their schedules allowed. jeonghan, being jeonghan, would always join them, enjoying nothing more than to be around the company of his most loved ones. unfortunately, during these instances he was also away from you, seeing as drinks with his friends tended to be right after work, just before he arrived home to you. this would cause him to make his way into your arms later than usual on the days his friends dragged him away to a pub. you didn't usually mind this, only occasionally pouting at him when he'd come home a bit later than usual without texting you about it beforehand.

today was one of the many days in which jeonghan had found himself at a discreet pub in seoul, accompanied by none other than mingyu, seokmin, chan, seungcheol and joshua, who were all pretty heavy drinkers whenever the mood struck them. jeonghan had prior plans today; it was your birthday tomorrow, so he knew he needed to get home at a timely hour in order to allow you to fall asleep in his arms as your birthday celebrations began. those plans were, however, slightly interrupted by the insistence of a choi seungcheol who adored jeonghan's company and insisted he tag along, even if only for a little while. jeonghan didn't see any harm in this, knowing he didn't have much of a tendency of getting drunk at these gatherings. he could easily make an appearance for one or two hours before excusing himself to go find refuge in your arms.

except that did not happen.

jeonghan wasn't sure how events had turned this way. he had lost most of his sense of self five shots in (what the hell was mingyu feeding him?). he began to go in and out of consciousness, still being aware of his surroundings, but not having many more thoughts past that. the one thing that did manage to slip his mind, however, was his plan to go home to you before the clock struck 12, as it was now 1 in the am. he had fully disregarded his phone too, too distracted with his friends to notice the vibrations on the table.

he woke up the next morning at about 12pm, insane headache and in familiar surroundings. it was joshua's house, he was pretty sure. and he wasn't alone. seungcheol and the rest were also located in different areas of the living room which jeonghan had awoken in. how did he even get here, he wondered. must've called a cab last night. but wait, his phone was out of battery last time he checked it. must've been one of the boys then.

none of these things mattered to jeonghan right now, so he simply got up and charged his phone, heading to the kitchen for a glass of water as he made conversation with joshua, who was the only other member awake at the moment. as soon as his phone charged, jeonghan headed over to grab it, immediately noticing a total tally of 19 notifications, all from you. had something happened? you didn't tend to message him so much. he immediately worried, hurrying to open the messages.

turned out he was right, something had happened.

it clicked almost immediately, with the tone of your texts expressing varying emotions as time progressed, and the date above the messages confirming his suspicions; it was your birthday today, and jeonghan was hung over at his best friend's house. he had no idea how he'd been so irresponsible. he knew he'd be a bit later than usual, but he was so sure he'd still make it home to you before midnight. but that had clearly been wrong. jeonghan dreaded it, but he decided to call you, to at least assess if your mood was as sour as the messages showed.

you picked up within three rings, immediately voicing your concerns at him.

"jeonghan? are you okay? you didnt come home last night," okay, you were worried about him! that was a good sign, right?

"i- angel, i'm so sorry. i'm okay. time got away from me and i ended up blacked out at shua's. shit, i'm so sorry, angel. i'll-"

"were you just drinking the whole time?", you paused, sighing before continuing, "you couldn't even message me or anything? you ditched me today of all days to get black out drunk with your friends? are you serious?", you paused again, not giving him enough time to respond, "you made me spend my birthday worried you didn't make it home. with no communication. jesus christ, jeonghan ..."

"angel. fuck. i'm so fucking sorry. i'll come home right now. it's still your birthday! let me make it up to you, yeah? i'll do whatever you want, just-"

"you know what, han? ... just stay there. we can do this some other day. i'm not really in the mood right now. i'll call you later today, okay? love you."

"wait, angel, no. just let me-"

he wasnt able to complete his sentence, as he was met with a beeping sound, informing him the line was disconnected. he stood there dumbfounded at what had just happened, not knowing how to react.

"man, you're fucked," chuckled joshua, who had heard the whole conversation.

yeah, he had fucked up big time.

joshua -

today was a terrible day. well, no. it was an amazing day actually. it was your birthday. it shouldve been an amazing day. except due to uncontrollable circumstances, your boyfriend joshua had to be away from you for the entirety of the week. there was an award show going on overseas, in which your boyfriend and the rest of seventeen had to be in attendance.

he had planned a beautiful day for you, really. he had wanted to spend the whole day with you, tending to your every need. he was going to wake you up with breakfast - prepared by himself, of course. then he would take you out to a secluded restaurant to ensure privacy. he had even planned to give you a serenade (he knew you would just call him corny, but could be be blamed for being in love?). he had communicated all this to you as he lamented his sudden absence to you a week before the day of his departure. you had accepted it, being touched by the mere thought. he'd promised you he would still be with you on your special day. although the award show was that same day, he promised to come back to the hotel as soon as time would allow and provide you with his company even if it was only through the phone.

and now it was that time. seeing as he was in japan and you in his home back in korea, there was no timezone to worry about. you'd simply have to wait at home for him to return and give you a call. it was now 6pm. it was understandable he would still be busy. you knew he had packed rehearsals all morning, so his only chance to call you would be later in the night. he had still sent you a few messages congratulating you on your big day and reminding you to be ready for him at around 8pm.

it was now 8:33pm. you had expected him to be a bit late, so you didn't mind it. the award show had been live, and it had ended at around 7:30. however, you knew it would likely take him a while to get ready and to get back to the hotel. so you waited patiently, knowing your boyfriend to always stand by his word.

it was at 9:33 that you began to worry. you had already sent him a few texts, not wanting to bother him in case something was going on. you pondered about texting his members just to make sure everything was okay, but decided against it. you didn't want to be pushy.

it wasn't until the clock hit midnight that you'd given up. by then you had already called a few times, only being met by his voicemail. at 12:18 you called his manager, knowing that was your last resort. the response you received was disheartening to say the least. he had informed you that your boyfriend and his group had been taken to an after party, claiming it had been a last minute thing, but that they'd all seemed pretty enthusiastic about it. you decided not to voice your annoyance to joshua's unsuspecting manager, instead choosing to go to sleep, sad and dejected.

the next morning when you woke up to 28 messages and 5 missed calls from joshua, you turned off your phone, disregarding him in the same way he had you. happy birthday to you.

jihoon -

despite popular belief, jihoon was not as emotionally constipated as he seemed. he was a great boyfriend, always making sure you felt loved and tended to. you were always one his top priorities, so he would do his best to spend as much time with you despite his packed schedule. you were also one of the only people who made him want to clock out at the end of the day, knowing you'd always be home waiting for him with open arms. jihoon, however, still had the tendency of sometimes holing himself up in his studio. during these periods of time, jihoon would cut off most contact from the outside world, being hard to reach for a few days as he stayed over at his studio without ever making it home.

this week was one of those times. jihoon never really scheduled these occasions. they'd just somehow end up happening whenever he had a spurt of inspiration, being able to conjure an entire series of songs he believed would perform well together. he liked to keep things organized, after all. any time he disappeared for over 24 hours, you could safely assume he was in his studio, not even allowing himself the simple pleasure of going on his phone to message you. for entertainment, he would sometimes allow himself some anime in between work, but not much more than that. he'd still leave the studio occasionally to show up to dance practice and such, but he would not interact with anyone other than his members, his manager, and maybe some staff if need be.

he knew this might be a bit too much, but it was all part of the creative process. as of today, it had been three days since he had left the hybe building, having given his manager full control over his phone as he wished to remain as productive as possible. he knew that one single text from you and he'd haul ass back home, too lost in the bliss of your presence to get himself to do any work. he missed you, of course, but this was not your first rodeo. the two of you had gone through this before, and it seemed like you accepted his weird work habits, having never complained nor shown discomfort over them. which was why he was quite shocked upon finally exiting the building four days later and calling you up in order to finally check in on you, but not finding the usual response.

the first thing he did as soon as he got his phone back was he call a few times, but he had received no response, which was quite strange from you. he knew it was kind of hypocritical to expect an immediate response considering he had gone off the grid for a few days, but he also knew you were usually free at this hour, so he had expected the usual reaction in which you'd jokingly curse him out for ghosting you followed by an invitation to come over.

he decided then to open his imessage, choosing to instead text you and maybe check in on any of the notifications that never arrived due to having kept his phone muted and away from his reach for the past few days. that was when he realized his grave mistake.

from: my love ❤️‍🩹

(sun) baby

(sun) babyyyy

(sun) where are you? i thought u were gonna sleep over tonight? did u forget about tomorrow?

(sun) okay i called u and ur not picking up im gonna assume ur busy. ill call u again tmrrw then. gn hoonie <3

(mon) okay i gave u most of the morning but its 12 now ... i assumed you'd come back yesterday night. are u at the studio?

(mon) are u rlly holed up there today of all days?? we talked about today last week.

(mon) baby :((

(mon) i dont wanna bother u. take ur time. call me whenever ur done i guess :(

that was when your texts had stopped, two days ago after you had seemingly realized he did not have his phone on him. he also noticed a few missed calls from you during those two days, halting upon the second day of no responses from him.

it had not clicked at first, until he noticed the date above the first text, detailing a day before your birthday. the rest of the messages were sent on the date itself, stopping that same day at his lack of response. the realization made jihoon stop in his tracks. how could it have slipped his mind? not only had he forgotten but he had literally left you in the dark during your special day, even continuing his lack of contact for the next two days. his spiraling thoughts were interrupted by you finally calling him back, something that filled jihoon with hope that you weren't angry at him.

"jiho-"

"baby, i'm so fucking sorry. i swear to you it just slipped my mind. i'll go home right now and make it up to you, i promise," he interrupted you before you could say anything.

you paused before responding, "jihoon. was work that important? was i that easy to forget? i respect your job, but you decided that day of all days?"

"it wasnt on purpose! baby, please just let me- let me come over and i swear we can have the day together. ill take off tomorrow too. the whole week! im so sorry."

"im ... im not really in the mood to see you right now, hoonie. it's been three days. i thought about just barging in your studio, but i didnt want to be that type of person. i had the stupid hope that you'd show up, that it wasnt that easy to just disregard me, but i was wrong. clearly."

"baby ... im so so sorry. i .. i'll give you your space. can i .. can i see you tomorrow then? please?"

"i'll call you to let you know, okay?"

jihoon held his breath at this, but quietly accepted your request, "i .. okay, baby. i love you."

"yeah, love you too," except your tone was cold, followed by the beeping of the phone, signaling the call had been disconnected.

seokmin -

many people knew seokmin as the embodiment of boyfriend material. or that was at least what many of his fans called him. in reality, he was even better than what cameras showed. he was the nicest, most respectful boyfriend imaginable, always providing you with everything you could ever need and more. he'd come home with flowers on a regular basis, he'd call you every single day to check in on you. he'd make you breakfast any time he had to leave before you, wanting to make sure you were well fed before a new day. he'd go above and beyond on any and every ordinary day in order to show you his utmost affections for you. don't even get you started on your birthday, which was a national holiday in seokmin's eyes. a day dedicated exclusively to celebrating the birth of his beloved? sign him up! nothing beat a day in which he could freely express all types of love towards you. he was over the moon every 365 days, knowing his favorite day would come again and again.

he had a huge day planned for you this year. there was a carnival in town, so he had planned to grab his manager and sneak out there with you for an hour or so before taking you back home. he also planned a cute moonlit dinner out on his balcony upon arriving home. it was all perfectly romantic, just like every other of his gestures towards you. he had the day marked on his calendar, only counting down the days until it finally arrived.

unfortunately for you both, your birthday landed on a work day for seokmin, who actually worked every day, really. but it was fine! seokmin had planned around that. he had his regular rehearsals plus a public appearance at a fashion show in the evening, along with a quick appearance at the afterparty, but after that he was all yours. he had to stay at the dorms this past week, having an extremely packed schedule, but he had made sure to text you a huge good morning paragraph detailing his love for you and how thankful he was you were his (just usual seokmin behavior, to be honest).

the fashion show had passed by quickly, having only taken a few hours. the after party, however, had been dragging a bit. it was now 6:04pm. he had promised you he would be home by 6:30, giving you enough time for the quick outing he had planned, plus a romantic dinner afterwards. he knew he still had time, but he was still worried he might not be able to follow through with his plans. the last thing he wanted was to be late. he currently had no way to communicate with you either, as his manager had possession of his phone while he was in such public schedules.

he lingered a little, making conversation with anyone he knew. there were many familiar faces, with a majority being that of actors who were also ambassadors of the various luxury brands at the event. he even saw a few actors he had been dying to meet. he felt badly at having such a good time while you were at home probably awaiting his return, but that thought left his mind as soon as a few of his musical performer friends approached him, engaging him in conversation. if there was anything seokmin was, it was overly friendly. he never said no to a conversation with friends, always being the energy maker in any and every relationship. however, it was easy for him to lose track of time and space whenever he found himself in conversation with friends, which was how time once again got away from him.

seokmin hadn't realized time had escaped him so quickly until his manager came up to him, quietly interrupting seokmin's lively conversation with his friends to inform him that his phone had been vibrating nonstop. fuck. he completely spaced out. checking his phone, he realized it was now 8:47pm. how had time passed by so quickly? he wad a bit buzzed, but he had no idea how he got caught up in conversation for so long. it was now too late to take you to the carnival, but he could still make it home for the romantic dinner. yes, okay. everything was fine. or at least that's what he thought until finally reading the 10 unanswered messages on his phone (while wincing at the 6 unanswered calls, also from you).

from: my love 😍

(5:32) cant wait for tonight baby <33

(5:32) i even bought a new dress hehe hope u like it ;)

(6:38) baby, are you gonna be running a bit late? it's fine, no rush! just pls let me know so i dont worry haha

(6:49) minnie ... is everything okay?

(7:14) minnie :(( are you coming soon?

(7:45) okay i called u a few times now ... do you not have ur phone on you? idk ur manager's number baby idk how to reach u rn :(

(7:53) they close the carnival at 8, i guess thats not happening anymore is it

(8:16) its so unlike u to keep me in the dark like this. i checked ur location and ur still at the event .. im assuming it ran late?

(8:23) its mean of u to keep me unaware of whats going on minnie

(8:35) okay nvm. u can just stay there. ill see if one of my friends wants to go out. goodnight.

the messages kept getting worse the more he read. he couldn't believe it slipped his mind like this. he planned it for weeks, even adjusting his schedule for it. and now he had ruined it all just because he felt like catching up with some friends.

he wasnt sure what to do. he had kept you in the dark all night, not even letting you know he wouldnt have his phone on him for a majority of it. he knew this was just an accidental slip of his mind, but that still didnt remove the way he hurt you. all he could do now was run home and await for your own return, hoping that you'd understand his mistake.

seungkwan -

such an outgoing guy like seungkwan always had high demand. they did call him the energy maker for a reason. his presence would always light up a room, which was one of the things you loved most about him. you'd met him in a very public setting, being able to witness first-hand how well he got along with, well, everyone.

however, his outgoing personality did come with some faults. due to having such high demand among friends and colleagues, it was sometimes a bit difficult to share seungkwan. yes, he was not yours per say, but he was your boyfriend. you liked to think you had special privileges that gave you exclusive access to his company that not everyone else had. and you did. seungkwan always gave you top priority when it came to sharing his time. he'd always let you know how much he cared for you, always babying you and tending to your every need. there was nothing in this world he loved more than you, his beloved, which was why it was easy for him to put everything aside whenever necessary.

now, you were not one to hog your boyfriend. you never wanted to be that person who insisted on having access to your boyfriend 24/7, nor would you ever want to keep him away from his friends. it was with this mentality that you had let your boyfriend know it was fine if he had previous engagements on the day of your birthday, letting him know that you'd be more than happy that day as long as he came home to you for a nice night together. he'd informed you that he'd be done with work that day at around 4pm, letting you know that he'd pay a quick visit to some of his 98-liner friends afterwards before going home to you. he had apologized to you for the bad timing over and over again, telling you that this was the only day they all had a day off all at once and would not be able to to gather for a few months after that. he'd insisted he would be quick, wanting nothing more than to head back to you as soon as possible. you'd assured him it was okay, being happy he'd be with you on your special day at all.

so now you were waiting. you'd spent part of the day with friends and family, not having seen seungkwan since the prior day due to his stay at the dorms this past week. you didn't mind this, though, as you were used to occasional separation due to his career. he had sent you a message in the morning, wishing you a happy birthday and once more confirming he'd be back home soon, prepared to celebrate your day. when it became a bit later than the time you'd agreed, you decided to continue to wait, not wanting to be pushy while he was with friends. when it became a lot later than the time you'd agreed, you decided to message him. but your messages went unanswered. you then began to call, receiving no response. it went like this until around 10pm, when you had finally chose to just change into your pajamas, only to be interrupted by a call from the man himself.

"baby! i'm so sorry, i just got your messages. i lost track of time, i swear! eunwoo and mingyu called me up while i was with my friends, and they were on live, so i had to go or else it'd look bad. don't be mad at gyu! he had no idea. i was supposed to just stay for a bit, but the live kept on dragging. i swear im on my way right now, i'll be there in-"

"kwan," you sighed, "not even a text? i dont understand. i didnt want to be pushy but .. today? i cant even lie to you. i'm disappointed."

"baby .. i'm so sorry. i completely spaced out. it's totally my fault. i got too caught up with my friends and then when mingyu called, i was too buzzed to even think straight. i- im sorry. i love you. please don't be mad," you could hear him pout from across the line, a bit frantic as he explained.

you sighed again, frustrated since you did tell him it was okay for him to be with his friends, but still sad he had forgotten you so easily, "i'm not mad, kwannie. just sad. i wish you'd called me to let me know you wouldnt be here at all today."

"but i will be! i'm heading there right now, baby, i swear!"

"i dont ... i dont think i wanna do anything anymore, kwan. im sorry," you felt childish and immature, but you really did not want to see him right now. you knew your emotions would only get the best of you. having your boyfriend choose to be away from you on your birthday was beginning to get to you.

"oh," he paused for a beat before continuing, "i- i understand. can i ... can i come over tomorrow morning, then?"

"you have work tomorrow. you have work every day, kwan. you dont have to-"

"please? let me see you tomorrow?"

"i- yeah. okay. i'll see you then."

"thank you ... happy birthday, my love. i love you. please dont forget that."

"love you too, kwannie," you felt sad as you said it, but you knew you still meant it. you just needed to sleep on it to ease the disappointment. or so you hoped.

[ruciel]

For the request can I please have Yandere Topaz, Himeko, Robin, and Jade comforting reader who has nightmare

yandere topaz is somewhat of a heavy sleeper, she works long hours, and rests for very few. but her fifth senses wake her, red alarm bells going off, her first instinct is to feel around for you in the bed. thankfully, you’re still there. but you’re quivering like a leaf. topaz feels around for you, but you don’t respond, completely still and completely silent. what’s wrong? are you okay? you’re hesitant to respond, only quietly murmuring that you had a nightmare. you come off as unbothered but topaz is unconvinced. she wraps her arms around your shoulders and pulls you in for a tight hug, patting your head gently. she’s worried for you, but doesn’t wish to pressure you into saying anything, only offering words of reassurance, i’m here to listen if you’d like. if you don’t say anything that’s fine, she’s holding you too tight to leave her grasp anyway. but if you do tell her, even if it’s just a little about the horrible dream, topaz will be happy you opened up to her. she doesn’t want to be overbearing, nor does she want to overwhelm you. it seems her pets have also sensed your distress, as you feel more and more weight get added to the already over-cushioned bed. they cuddle you, similarly like how they do with topaz, and you can’t help but reach out to feel their fur and pet them. it distracts you. you’re surprised topaz hadn’t pressed further, but realistically, you know she’s very self-aware of when to stop prying and being invasive. her presence alone is very comforting, and it even brings a smile to your face when you feel her hand find yours and give it a small squeeze.

yandere himeko stays up far later than you do. she likes to take time to unwind and relax in the evening. what better way to do that than settle in bed and read while you sleep beside her? himeko’s dim lamplight is on, and she skims the novel in her right hand as she lazily runs her hands through your hair with her left hand. a faint, almost soundless, noise comes from you. she thinks nothing of it until it happens again, this time, you twitch. her eyes drift to your figure, setting her book down, not caring if she loses her place as you stir even more. himeko places a tender hand on your shoulder, shaking you. she frowns after seeing tears already beginning to form in your closed eyes, this time, she calls your name. slowly, you wake up, eyes bleary as you avert your eyes from the light coming from the bedside table. you open your mouth to say something, but she softly shushes you, shh, it’s alright dear. she wipes your tears away, holding the side of your face, all the while she assures you that it was just a dream. that no one, and nothing, will ever come to harm you— that she will make sure of. himeko places a chaste kiss on the top of your forehead. you’re still shaken up, and she offers to brew you a cup of coffee. it will keep you up for awhile, but it may take your mind off things for now… if you agree, she’ll invite you into the kitchenette of the express. himeko will tell you all about the book she’s been reading over a nice cup of coffee. if you disagree, she’ll lay in bed with you for little longer. himeko will let you cry in her arms if you need to, patient as ever, you’ll likely open up to her about the nightmare, and she’ll soothe your nerves while she kisses you more.

yandere robin is very careful with you when you sleep. she spends quite a bit of time outside of the dreamscape, but you do not because you are safe and often enjoy passing time there while waiting for robin to return to penacony. for whatever reason, you seem to always have nightmares after leaving the dreamscape. she’s made her bed especially tailored to your liking, the mattress is the right amount of firm while also being comfortable. it has as many pillows as you want, varying in size, and made with your wants in mind. and the sheets and blankets are a colour chosen by none other than yourself, there are enough he to keep you happy, but not too much that they’re too heavy on you when you sleep. but robin still frets over you when you’re laying down in her bed, trying to get some sleep, and tonight is no different. as she gets into her night attire, she can’t help but noticing you squirm around under the blankets. hurriedly, yet quietly, she makes her way to the side of the bed, sitting down and leaning over your unconscious figure. robin doesn’t want to disturb you, she doesn’t like waking you up because she knows how important rest is. so she sings, chanting a sweet lullaby that she remembers fondly from her childhood. the hymn reaches you, even in your deep sleep. robin observes as your once uncomfortable expression turns calm. she wonders what you’re dreaming of now. what you see when she sings to you in your sleep. robin’s tune fades into quiet humming, and she manoeuvres under the covers to join you. she never does stop singing to you, even if it’s only a mere whisper now. robin won’t bother you about it in the morning, unless you bring it up. even if you do not know it, she still wishes to protect you in your sleep.

yandere jade recognises the sounds of your silent cries and whimpers from anywhere. even if she’s in a deep slumber, jade simply knows when you are so much as slightly unhappy. lifting the sleeping mask off of her eyes, she tilts her head and gets a good look at you. you’re shaken up, she can tell that much in her groggy state. although you don’t make your anxieties known, you’re curled up into yourself, pulled away from her with a distant look on your face. her voice startles you when she suddenly speaks up, you had thought she was still asleep, what’s wrong darling? bad dream? hesitantly nodding, she whispers a few apologies as she leans over to you and pulls you closer to her. you allow her to do as she pleases, sitting upright as she positions you to lean back against her. i have you, you’re okay. focus on your breathing. you do, calming yourself and trying to steady your breaths. what you remember from the nightmare repeats endlessly in your mind, and jade can still sense your discomfort. she asks if you want or need anything, maybe some water? it wouldn’t hurt, and though she’s displeased to be away from you, even for such a short while, jade fetches a glass of water for you, and even some snacks. by now, the two of you are well awake. you’re sorry to have woken her, but jade dismisses it. if you’re ever struggling with anything she wants you to come to her. eventually you tell her about the nightmare, she listens intently and occasionally holds your hand or rubs your arm. by the time you’re finished, you’re fatigued and become drowsy, but still apprehensive about falling back asleep. jade assures you that you will be okay, saying she’ll go back to sleep with you. but she lies, she doesn’t. jade waits for you to fall back asleep, she’s not tired anymore, and will make sure you aren’t plagued by any terrible dreams this time.

[dontlookatmytmntcollection]

First I Love You

Bayverse TMNT × Fem!Reader

This is self indulgent garbage I have made to keep myself distracted.

It varies from Drama to Fluff to Angst and Pre established relationship to a fucking year into being official to Y/N to she/her. No spicy tho. Good luck lol

-Raphael-

It wasn't panic.

It wasn't. He felt excitement. Raphael was bursting with energy. Stomach in knots, head pounding, chest pushing and pulling oxygen as if it was hard.

It wasn't panic. Leo concluded the huddle with a nod. "Let's do this!"

"Turtle power!" The group shouted. Turtle and human alike branched off in different directions.

Raph looked over at you.

"Raph, I-"

"C'mon people, let's go!" Vern called.

Raph didn't know what to do, heart racing and blood surging. Making him jittery. He half-heartly ran after his brothers.

He couldn't help but glance back.

You had taken a step back closer to Vern. You were watching them go, frightened. He understood.

He could die or get taken away- this might be the last he would ever see any of these people ever again. Last time he would ever see you.

"You don't have to do that." You had laughed, smiling as he lifted your couch.

"You're not gonna do it." He teased, watching your dog fetch it's toy happily.

"It's an upper east side candy shop." Raph explained one night. "I know you like sweets."

You gave him the biggest puppy eyes, smile ear-to-ear, holding the snacks to your chest. "You're my hero."

God, had he wanted to kiss you. He almost did one time. Almost spilled his guts when you blinked tiredly up at him. The scales of his arm were imprints along your face. Marks a movie lengths worth in the making. They wouldn't fade for several minutes. It was so cute.

Your hand grabbed his once. Tugging him to the edge of the water, in an effort to show him something. Probably. He couldn't remember. He hid his shyness under the banter. Soaking up the feeling of your hand in his.

Raph couldn't stop thinking about you, anymore. He knew you felt something too. He was more than happy about that.

But it wasn't meant to be. He knew better.

"We can't do this." Raph had whispered two days ago. Pulling his hand away from your fingers. Pulling away from what had almost been a kiss. "It's wrong."

Something numb fell over your expression. Blocking him out. It broke his heart as you pulled your lips tight. Looking down and nodding. "Okay."

Raph had faced impossible odds before. But this was bigger. Scarier. He knew there was a chance he could never make it. A good one if this plan doesn't go well.

No.

He needed to do this.

His feet started to do their own thing.

"Raph?" Donnie called. Confused.

You turned back around, suddenly swallowed up in Raphael's shadow. "Raph, w-"

"I love you."

Her eyes widened, staring up at Raph.

"I'm fucking crazy about you." He whispered, terrified. "I fell in love with you, and I'm sorry I-"

"Raph-"

"You're the best thing to ever happen to me, and I've been wishing I could be the guy you deserve, but I'm not, so...so I just want you to know -"

"I-I love you too." She whispered, rushing forward.

Raph blinked. Relief overwhelming him before he could register what had been said.

"I love you so fucking much." His best friends small hands were quickly on his cheeks; the sensation like lightning on his scales.

It...probably wasn't the best kiss, in hindsight. He had done nothing but stare wide-eyed in disbelief as it happened, was happening, and happened.

She pulled back, her hands petting his face. His hands holding her head too. Her eye contact made his limbs go numb when she whispered, "Just come back to me, okay?"

Just come back to me.

"Uh...Okay."

She choked out a laugh, letting go of his face and pushing at his chest. "Now go get 'em tiger." It made Raph choke and smile back.

"Raph!" Leo shouted.

Ignoring Vern's expression of horror. Raph nodded to himself. "Okay." He said again. "Okay." He sprinted after his brothers on legs he couldn't feel, new energy driving him forward.

-Michelangelo-

You weren't naive.

You knew he wouldn't be accepted by most of your family. You knew that a few individuals might even be dangerous to Mikey and his family.

But the key word was most.

The newest generations, relatives your age, were much more accepting of many things. Within reason.

With your boyfriends...predicament- it took some extra effort on your part to set up a meeting of some kind. A meeting in which both parties had nowhere to go but through the uncomfortable interaction. With no room for reactive actions. No access to immediate exits, phones, or weapons-

Good thing you were dating an actual angle.

Mikey could work a room so easily, it overwhelmed you. He had your siblings charmed within seconds; cracking wise while the first gawking and terrified reactions were water off his shell.

Now, your boyfriends social circle was that much bigger.

One thing led to another. Weeks went by, then months. It's how you two ended up here. You on your siblings couch curled up with a book. Chaos all around you.

"Aaand...boo!" Mikey leapt out from behind the doorway.

"AHHahah!" One of your neices squeeled and ran away, hands covering her face.

"C'mere, you." Mikey growled, his smile just as wide as he dramatically stomped after the four kids, his hands perfect T-rex claws. His shadow easily swallowing them as they hurried away.

"Mikey, you can't eat them!" Your nephew wasn't older than five, but he chased after the giant turtle man as they rounded the couch you were sitting on.

Mikey tackled your nephew to the ground expertly, the boy roaring in delight; getting tickled ferociously.

"Ahhh! Stopp!!" The boy was desperately trying to worm away from your boyfriend. "That hurts!"

Mikey let go, and the boy continued to giggle as he caught his breath, struggling to get up.

"Ya a'right?" Mikey smiled.

"AHHH!" One neice came out of nowhere, pouncing on Mikey's arm.

"Oh NOO!" Mikey cried as he fell expertly over, making the little girl laugh. Your nephew screamed in triumph, jumping on his shoulders.

The other two saw the action, and pounced.

"We gotchu!!"

"Oh no, oh no!!" Mikey whined, struggling carefully for their entertainment as the kids climbed on top of him. He went limp, a gross sound in his thoat.

The kids squeeled, tiny hands slapping him playfully. "We know you're not dead, Mikey!"

He didn't reply.

Your neice shook his shoulder. "My-ee?"

"RAH!" Mikey jolted awake, and they all screamed and scrambled away.

"Get back here!" He called.

The kids scrambled to another room, leaving you and your boyfriend facing each other where he was kneeling on the carpet.

"How are you doing?" Mikey asked, still smiling. He had glitter stickers all over him. And marker ink was all over his shoulder.

Your heart had swelled, closing your throat and misting your eyes. He looked good like this. Happy.

"I love you." You muttered.

Mikey jolted, his eyes blowing wide. "...W-what?"

"I love you." You repeated with a smile, voice breaking.

Mikey's jaw dropped, his hands lifting a little from his knees. "We're- I-I-I love you-"

"UNGUARDD!"

A pool noodle slapped Mikey's head from behind.

You laughed.

-Donatello-

"All done." You whispered.

"Thank you."

You didn't look at him, setting down the needle and blood-soaked fabric.

You and Donnie were sheltered in the lab. Curtain drawn. He sat maskless and blind in his chair. Hands clasped between his spread knees.

He'd been quiet. Avoiding your gaze.

You stared at what would be a new scar on his face. Down his cheek and neck. You mourned the marring of some turtle stripes under his jaw.

Blood was crusted between scales around your messy stitches; and you slowly got to work of gently dabbing it away. One hand on his other cheek to keep him still.

You couldn't handle it alone anymore. Hurt that had weld up in your chest suddenly surged. Your voice began working again.

"Why didn't you tell me?" You whispered.

He didn't answer. But you felt a muscle clench under your fingers.

You bit your lip. Tears welling up at last.

Your proposal that fateful night hadn't been unique. At all. But the offer of another date night was ignored by him completely.

Ghosted. You had gone to April. Worried that something might have happened.

April's number apparently didn't exist anymore. Her face gone from her regular network. Nothing was said about it. As if you had made everything up.

You didn't have any other numbers. You didn't know where to find anyone. You'd begun to accept he had let you go. All of them. Suddenly. But they were gone, none the less.

You were not needed; and Donatello hadn't wanted you.

Then tonight, two hours ago; you'd received a mystery caller. Three times. Leo. Imploring. Needing more hands, because Donnie was down and out for the count. You had never heard the leaders voice like this.

Karai was now dead.

Everyone is home safe.

You felt tears finally spill down your cheeks. You pulled away, sniffing as you scrubbed harshly at your cheeks.

Donnie reacted to the sound as if shot.

"Y/N it wasn't -"

"You didn't tell me." You hissed. "That's all I need to know."

"It's not like that!" Donnie said urgently. "I couldn't -"

"I needed one text. N-not even that, just... something. Anything." You hissed. "I don't even ask for an explanation! Just saying it's unsafe to talk would have been more than enough. Y-you and I even have a safeword-!"

"I couldn't do that!" Donnie said. "They had tracked Splinter and April through our communications. My firewalls should have prevented the Foot from - I didn't - I didn't know, and I couldn't endanger another person I love the same way."

A person I love.

You gasped, chest heaving with built-up sobs. Physical pain struck you at his words. Shock. Denial. Two weeks. Nothing -

"You don't love me!" You choked. Insistant.

Donnie blinked, mouth dropping slightly open as he stared at you wide-eyed.

He took in a shaky breath. "Yes, I do."

You sobbed, squeezing your eyes shut as you scrubbed some tears away. "No, you don't, c'mon." It was the weakest you've ever sounded.

Donnie's hands snagged your elbows. Pulling you to face him so his hands could rest on either side of your head.

"You were in danger." His voice shook. "You were in so much danger - and I'd rather you think I left or was gone than ever - ever, see you hurt. Especially because I was too fucking s-stupid to protect you or my family."

You were silent. Staring at him like he was the last thing left alive.

He bit his lip, wet eyes sparkling with the most conviction you'd ever seen. "I love you so much. You're the best thing to ever happen to me, and I promised myself I would keep you safe, no matter what. If...If I could redo all of this, I wouldn't change anything." His voice broke. "It'll be different from now on, but...the thought of you somewhere out there hating me is better than the thought of you...not being here at all."

You hiccuped, face wet with renewed tears as you pushed forward. Kissing him.

-Leonardo-

Leo hadn't liked you at first. At all, really. Comes with the territory, you thought. You didn't blame him.

The trust built slowly every month. Half a year went by before you could easily call him your friend, and you were good friends.

The problem was that you had started crushing on him. Hard.

One night, Leo had stopped you; rain pouring down as he - very awkwardly...asking you out.

You could tell that he had been terrified. It made your smile that much wider. Because you were terrified too. Over the moon. Finally.

You later found out the guy had actually the corniest, cutest list of dates he had been hoping to take you on. All written in a neat, dorky list in one of his notebooks. When you confronted him - he couldn't meet your eyes he had been so embarrassed.

Leo had been the one to ask if he could kiss you.

You had fallen in love. Not quickly. But you had admitted to yourself - looking up into those pretty blue eyes - that you were crazy in love.

And yet...

Leo still hadn't taken off his mask.

You asked once. "Am I ever going to see you without it?"

"Hell no." He huffed at you while he set your house plant back down.

"Scared I might find out you're a turtle?" You scoffed. "I have some crazy news."

"Nice try, but that kind of show-" Leo reached above you to grab a cup, then pointed it at your smug grin. "Isn't for free. VIP only."

"I'm not a VIP girlfriend?" You were outraged.

The curiosity was always there. But you didn't push. You knew it would happen eventually.

That moment came a week later. When you ran your nails across his scalp.

You quickly did it a second time after his tiny noise of happy surprise. A gentle scratch. Only slight pressure to the green skin.

"What're you doing back there?" Leo twisted, peering up at you from where he sat on the floor infront of you.

You kept at it. Smiling as you switched between scratching and petting his scalp, adding a second hand. "Just touching you. That okay?"

Leo's eyes fluttered before he turned back to the TV. His shell between your knees.

As time passed, Leo's head lowered. His neck weakening. He obviously wasn't watching anymore.

"You okay?" You giggled quietly.

"Mm."

"C'mere." You pat your lap. "Turn around."

Leo did. He paused, facing you. You stared back, smiling before pressing a hard loud kiss to the side of his snout. Pushing his head slightly with its force, making him smile and laugh.

God, you loved that laugh.

Your hands opened and closed dramatically over his form as he slumped his head into your lap, curling up close. You nearly giggled at how large his head was as he rested his cheek on a thigh.

There was one problem....

"Hey," you whispered. "May I move the mask?"

Leo froze.

"I can work with it." You quickly said, cringing. "You're okay."

"No," Leo said. "No, it's okay. Hang on."

Your heart leapt into your throat in surprise. But you bit your lip. You didn't want to scare him as he sat up and used one hand to loosen the knot.

Leo pulled it off swiftly. Never looking at you.

You stared.

You had convinced yourself it wouldn't be a huge deal seeing his face. It was a small mask. How much could it really hide?

Apparently, a lot. You felt your brain adjust to the ridiculous fact that it had been unprepared to have so much green to look at.

Leo moved to lean back down. You stopped him. That's when he looked at you.

Leo's eyes hadn't changed a bit. You realized that they looked even more gorgeous like this.

You're heart squeezed.

You'd been dying to tell him. Now more than ever.

"Hi." You whispered, smiling and petting his cheeks.

"C'mon," Leo winced. "It's not..."

"Tell me it at least feels better off..." the backs of your fingers pet down his cheeks before you pushed your nails along each side of his head. Across his temples and then along his scalp again. "It sure looks better off."

His eyes rolled closed. He pushed further into the contact, a pretty groan slipping out.

He stayed there. Leaned a little bit forward as he sat on the floor. His head being pet and scratched from where you sat in front of him on the couch. You pressed a few kisses across brow and nose when you felt his weight going lax once more.

Then holding his jaw, you pressed your lips firmly against his forehead.

Leo signed.

This was it. Time to tell him. You took a deep breath.

"I love you." Leo whispered.

[pascallatte]

Very Funny

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Actress!reader

Summary: A very chaotic Kingsman interview

Date: September 2017

A/N: like last time, sorry for the late post. I was having a massive headache so here I am, alive and well, also you aren't here cause this is like a scenario where someone(Halle) hints at your and Pedro's relationship, and will do like 1-2 more of this before my beloved 20s start. so without further ado, enjoy reading and please tell me what you think, like always.

“So we thought, we’d help you get to know each other. Ok?” Dotty, Halle and Pedro’s interviewer for this video told them. 

Handing Halle a card, “This is for Pedro, so you ask Pedro those.”

“Ok, so she- OK” Still confused at what’s happening, Pedro looks back and forth between Halle and Dotty. 

“These are for Halle. I’m just trying to help you to get to know each other,” handing Pedro his own cue card.

Looking down at her question, “ok, so I go first?” Halle asks, smiling at her questions.

Agreeing, “ you can go first Halle, you go work your way through those questions. I’m trying to help you, get to know Pedro.”

Halle laughs before continuing, “Okay, Pedro. What is something you get wrong almost every time you do it?”

“Like if I ever think I can cook for somebody,” he says making this off-looking look on his face before turning to Halle.

“you can’t cook?”

“I just shouldn’t,” shaking his head at her.

Being the subtle tease she is, “really?”

“really.”

And in want to tease him more, “but do you try hard for-,” she cuts herself off a smirk now seen on her face, “-for your loved ones?” she raises her eyebrows at her emphasis and his reaction.

Nodding slowly, “For my loved ones? Ah, I try-I improvise. I always think that I can improvise a meal and then make a good sandwich,” Pedro was seen rambling on and on, somewhat shocked at Halle’s follow-up question.

“stick to that, stick to what you know”

Deciding to help him out, “so you can’t cook.”

Now looking at her intently, “I can make a good sandwich-” he says as he looks like he was telling something to her through his eyes.

“okay.”

“-and good breakfast.” 

“well breakfast is important,” she tells him, chuckling for a bit.

Almost calm, he responds, “exactly”

Halle’s smile makes him ramble again, sensing the teasing he’ll get, “You want some breakfast? You want a sandwich? Come to me.”

Dotty says as she watched the exchange, “This feels intimate guys. I feel like I should leave.” The pair laughs as Halle makes an 'X' using her arms mouthing,” Not me, not me”

Interrupting with her own questions, Dotty looks at Pedro, “Do you want to make breakfast for Halle?” With the same soft tone as a while ago, he turns to look at Halle’s teasing expression, “I’d love to make breakfast for Halle”

“Halle, do you accept the invitation?”

With a smile and an “isn’t it obvious look,” Halle turns to Pedro with a stoic look before giving a subtle tease (not that anyone but them would get it), “Yeah, anytime, just wanna make me anything you want. I’m telling you he loves making breakfast for his loved ones."

At this time he just accepts her teasing, nodding at her words,” yeah I make breakfast for my loved ones every time.” As if nothing ever happened she began her next question. “So Pedro-“

The interview continued, with questions varying from what was the last lie he told to if there was anyone Halle forgot to thank in her famous Oscar-winning speech and now to the opening, what was the worst way you’ve broken up with or been broken up with someone. 

And with Pedro being on the spot he thought for a moment before sharing with the world that, HE, the Pedro Pascal. Has been broken up by someone via email, which leads the video to his own question for Halle.

“umm, yeah Next question!!” Pedro says loudly as he looks down at his cue cards, making everyone laugh at his declaration.

“what do you look for in a man?”

Raising the mic up, “Clearly all the wrong thi-.“ And just as quickly, Pedro cuts her off, “Now. Now. Today. What do you look for in a man today?"

Jokingly, or not, “Who says I’m looking for a man?” Halle says as Pedro gives her a look which she clearly understands.

Dotty adds her own, “or woman,” making Halle laugh.

Somehow cleared up, “or woman. You know what? What do you look for in a person?”

Looking up, she thinks of something that won’t start something with the press, “Hahh... honesty, everybody would say that. That was a no brainer”

Disagreeing with her, “that is not a no-brainer, honesty is the most important. The number one-“

Dotty being the curious person and interviewer that she is, asks him,” How about you Pedro? What do you look for in a woman..or a man?” Also shrugging like her her question isn’t such a big deal.

Halle seeing this as an opportunity to tease him again, leans closer to him, “Hmm, what do you look for in a woman Pedro?”

Whispering to her, but the mic still picks it up, “huh, I think I know this.” Faking an innocent expression, she raises her hands up in surrender, “no, no”.

Jokingly, the interviewer joins in with Halle’s teasing, “Yeah no, we just want to tell your fans your...let’s say type.” Unconsciously fanning himself with the cue cards, he whispers to his right, “Don’t deny it.” 

Halle, despite the chaotic mess they’ve portrayed just now, still urged him, “Okay, just give us five words” 

Breathily, “Five words to descri- what I look for?” Pedro, who was still looking at her, asked as she just nodded in amusement.

They stared at him expectantly, making Pedro leave no choice but to answer, “Okay, okay, let’s see. I want someone who cares, obviously.” Leaning back the chair as he lifts one hand to count.

The interviewer does the same, “Ok that’s one.”

“Someone who can keep up with me, in every aspect.” He listed, getting nods from Halle, who has this very obvious smile on her face. “Of course.”

Looking at Halle, “Umm when sh-they love to be themselves. Like always especially when I've gone and done all the unthinkable every midnight..”

Leaning back in exaggeration, “Oh those are oddly specific.”  Copying her stance, “Is it? No, it’s not, I’m speaking in general over here.” Bringing both hands in the air as he emphasizes general.

Just agreeing to what he says, she continues, “Now, how about features?”

“Features? Why features?” He gives her a very very questioning look, making her laugh as she leans on him. “I don’t know, you tell me.”

He fakes a chuckle as he realizes, this is still a part of her scheme, “I mean, they should be lovely-look, everyone I love would look lovely to me.” Halle gives Pedro an audible hum and a wink towards the camera.

“what??”

Sniffling a laugh, Halle just waved a hand in the air, “Nothing, go on.”

Dotty, now really curious, “Hold up I sense something here, is there someone? You’re like thinking of?” And like a deer in headlights, the bickering pair turns to her, Pedro shaking his head and Halle smiling in her seat.

“oh no no, absolutely not. I don-it would be out in the world already if I do- just with what’s happening." Pedro insisted, arms waving around to show that there's no one.

“Sure, sure. You can’t keep it a secret can you?”

Flicking his cards towards her, “Hey! Okay the last one is that..they…should be-“

Whispering to the mic as subtle as she can, “-small and energetic”

Whipping his head at her declaration, more of in a panic state than a surprised state, “Huh? What do you mean where did that come from?”

“Yeah Halle, where did that come from?” Butting in as Dotty is now more curious at the meaning than the interview proper itself.

Shrugging, “I don’t know, cause I do have a friend who’s small and energetic and-“

“who is I-“Dotty was cut off when Pedro spoke loudly towards the mic. “Yeah, okay, okay. that’s enough. She doesn’t have a friend, who’s small…and energetic. I think? that I know of.” Looking at her with big eyes as he plays with the back of her chair.

Sensing that the time they have is almost out, Halle opts to end it with a final tease, “He’s right, I don’t, but he does.” Small tease being this exaggerated wink and pointer finger pointed at him.

Pedro, like shoving people out of the way ends the interview, “Very funny. I don’t- actually don’t believe whatever’s coming out of her mouth, at the moment.” Making the people around him laugh as he slumps on his chair.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙

Taglist: @benonlinear @t-stark35 @heyitsme-2 @elleeeee21 @holmesstrange @tagakalat @flyestvenustrap @oldermenaremyreligion @cherryred444 @hobiismyhopeu @ilovehotdadsandshit @djarinsstuff @guacala @avengersheart @pukka-latte @lilvampirina (the ones in bold can't be tagged on my side. Please tell me if you've encountered any problems on your end)

[herofics]

Could u do headcannons on dating shigaraki,Dabi and mr compress

Some of this might be kinda toxic tbh, but it’s just my honest opinions on what it would be like to date them

~Mr. Compress/Atsuhiro Sako~

•Mr. Compress is very affectionate, and much more on the gentle side

•He’s always holding your hand or resting his hands on your hips, or somehow touching you

•He’s also very protective of you, but not so much possessive

•He’s pretty much always worrying about something happening to you, because you’re associated with him and people can be very vindictive

•Atsuhiro loves it when you call him by his name, because you call him Mr. Compress when you’re around other people, which is most of the time

•He also sometimes just repeats your name by whispering it to himself, and for some reason it always makes him smile

•You hold him when he wakes up from his nightmares and when he has phantom pains on his arm that he lost

•He doesn’t like sleeping without you, because he just feels cold when you’re not there

•Atsuhiro loves feeling your body pressed against his, just holding you close when he sleeps, it just soothes him

•He likes keeping you close, but he doesn’t want to make you feel like he’s chaining you down

•He texts you multiple times a day, but he doesn’t even expect an answer every time, unless he asks a question or something, he just wants you to know he’s thinking of you

•He sends you cute videos of animals or the occasional “I love you”

•Atsuhiro calls you everyday when he knows he won’t be seeing you, he just wants to hear your voice, even if it’s just for a moment

•He isn’t the jealous type, but if he gets bad vibes from a person you interact with regularly, he will let you know, this man just wants to keep you safe

•He feels responsible for your safety and wellbeing and he always wants you to be happy

•He is bad at arguing, and he doesn’t get angry easily, so most of your fights/arguments are very tame

•It never escalates to a screaming match, and you always apologize to each other if you say something hurtful and just make peace afterwards

~Shigaraki Tomura~

•Tomura has like zero experience with dating, because obviously he has never dated before

•He’s also very socially awkward due to his upbringing, and he doesn’t know how to express his feelings well

•So when you started dating, he’s sort of bad at it, if that makes sense?

•He doesn’t know how to ask for affection, he just sort of takes it

•He always gives you a chance to stop him or pull away, he’s not a savage, but he is quite needy

•He loves cuddling with you while he plays his games, you’re just sitting on his lap, or on the floor between his legs with him resting his chin on top of your head

•He barely sleeps as it is, but now that he’s gotten used to sleeping with you in his arms, he can’t sleep without you

•He was pretty insecure about kissing you at first, because of his scarred and chapped lips, but since you didn’t seem to mind it, he stopped caring

•Especially after Tomura gained better control of his quirk, he loves simply touching you

•Things like holding your hand, grabbing your ass or pinning you against the wall by your wrists are some of his favorite things to do

•What ensues after pinning you to the wall varies depending on his mood, but he of course doesn’t do anything you don’t want him to

•On the contrary, he loves to make you beg

•He can be a bit pushy sometimes, and you have to make your boundaries very clear to him and hold onto them

•He might sometimes get a bit annoyed if you deny him, and he doesn’t always understand why you do that, but as long as you’re patient with him and explain it to him, he’ll get it eventually

•When Tomura gets angry, he can be really fucking mean and nothing is off limits

•He doesn’t hurt you physically, but damn he can say some really hurtful things

•And he is really bad at apologizing, because he hates admitting he was in the wrong

•So you will very rarely get an apology, if ever

•If someone were to check you out, or god forbid touch you and he were to catch them, those people would probably end up dead or at least lose a limb or two

•So possessive af, but he would never hurt you for getting attention, how the people giving you that attention end up though? Yikes

~Dabi~

•As I’ve probably said a hundred times before, this man is possessive as hell

•Like if someone were to touch you, they’d get burned

•He isn’t really protective, because he trust you can handle yourself though

•Dabi isn’t really a soft, gentle person, but he does care about you

•Even if it is in a kind of self serving way, and he’s really mostly looking for the relationship to benefit him, rather than both of you

•He’s very affectionate but it’s only when he wants to, if he doesn’t feel like it he will physically push you away

•If he doesn’t want you to kiss him, he will literally put his palm on your face to stop you

•He rarely says anything about it

•Or if he’s indifferent about it, he will just let you lay on him on the bed, while he scrolls through his phone or something

•He likes sleeping with you, but he cannot stand it when you hog the blankets, and he has kicked your leg and almost pushed you off the bed in revenge

•Dabi also has the habit of absolutely emptying your bridge when he comes over, because he’s always hungry and he only really cares about it when he gets free food aka raiding your fridge

•He’s a pretty lousy boyfriend to be honest, but he does show you affection and takes care of you when it fits him or when you really need it

•His idea of a date is just watching a movie at your place and eating take out, he doesn’t like going out and he can’t really go out in public anyway because of his wanted status

•He’s not very good at comforting you with words, so if you’re upset, he mostly just holds you and lets you cry or rant or whatever you need to do in that moment

•Sometimes it feels like Dabi loves to argue, like it might feel like he will just try to escalate the situation into a yelling match

•And he has this ability to say the most hurtful things so nonchalantly and it’s infuriating

•He doesn’t really know how to apologize so your arguments usually just end with him pulling you close and muffling your voice by holding your head against his chest and he lets you yell into his shirt

•He does say sorry eventually, but it might take a while and it might sound a bit insincere, even when he means it, because he has to always have that damn attitude when he says it

[starsreminisce]

Your latest post 👏 👏

When Azriel presented the necklace to Elain he didn’t once think about how she would feel about the necklace, unlike later on in the bc with a certain priestess (whom he barely knows as ppl like to point out). If he’s known Elain for soo long, shouldn’t he at least wonder about her? Not her bond, but her. Ppl are giving Azriel too much credit for his feelings towards Elain.

HOFAS SPOILER-ISH

At this point, Azriel has shown more care (outwardly) towards Nesta than he ever has for Elain. You can’t just say this dude keeps everything internal when he has literally shown us readers what he does for those he cares for (i.e. Nesta in HOFAS).

I wanted to finish HOFAS before I answered this, but absolutely, people give Azriel too much credit towards his feelings towards Elain, and more importantly, he doesn't consider Elain's feelings in SF, and we are told in the ways that he doesn't.

Elriels like to push for choice and how Elain will choose Az, but Az has never given her the space to make that choice, even back when Az gave Elain Truth-Teller and her face turned white about the idea of being armed. It's frustrating how supportive he is towards Feyre wanting to learn how to fly, Nesta over keeping her weapons, a bunch of priestesses with varying states of trauma to learn how to defend themselves, and most importantly, Gwyn with wanting to learn more about daggers and spywork.

Did Az consider how Nesta's actions were hurting Elain, especially considering how close they were? Did Az consider how her bond is affecting her, not trying to figure out why she has not made a decision yet? Did Az consider that Elain wants to do more for the IC but makes the argument that she shouldn't be exposed to that darkness and yet Nesta, who was visibly shaken from the idea, should? Did Az consider that she did like him over her own mate to push past his own feelings to be close to her?

Elriels keep saying that Elain has no one to confide in, so she's close to Nuala and Cerridwen but not close enough that she can express this to. Azriel could have been that person, and yet we were told that Azriel keeps away from her, and he left thinking that it was the right thing that he did.

No mate can keep away from their counterpart for long, and the only reason why they did is because their mates wanted them to. Rhys stepped aside because Feyre wanted to marry Tamlin. Cassian barely spoke to Nesta for nine months up until the intervention because Nesta made it clear she wanted nothing to do with him. Lucien moved to the human lands to give Elain space, and we don't even see him force himself onto her.

Az's reasons are because that's what he felt is best for him when Elain wants the complete opposite, and Elain understood that she will never be what he actually wants - a mate - and expressed that by returning the necklace, effectively closing the door to the idea they can be something more.

Not only that, but she chose not to explore her skills of wielding a weapon by returning Truth-Teller.

Azriel left thinking he was proven right, not that he will prove Rhys wrong. Azriel tells Bryce tightly no he doesn't have a mate, not arrogantly that he doesn't need one.

So I really don't understand how half of his BC, where it's canon that his feelings for Elain are mutual, while simultaneously ignoring that he had absolutely no intention of pursuing it. Even with Elain's offer and permission and his delayed reaction, he stuck by that decision.

Elain can choose Az, but I don't think, given what we have, Az will make that same choice when it comes down to it. And Elain is aware of this, so she already chose between Azriel and Lucien in the bonus chapter when we were explicitly told she returned the necklace.

Her choosing not to reject the bond is still her choosing Lucien over Azriel, and Azriel has not given her any confidence that rejecting the bond to be with him is a good decision, especially when he called it a mistake.

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Dancing 'Til the Break of Dawn - Pt16

<Pt15

(TWST Zombie apocalypse AU where Yuu beast tames just a little too close to the sun)

You know, Yuu had thought that he had seen it all. The apocalypse, the cannibals, the weirdly nice moments that sporadically poked through all of the gloom. He’d thought he was finally used to it. That nothing could surprise him anymore.

He was a fool.

Because nothing had prepared him for –.

“Is that a fucking furry?”

“I’m not a furry!” a surprisingly young voice groaned.

The three teenagers glanced at each other. And then their eyes slid back down to the fursuit the guy was wearing.

The guy pulled off his(?) head, sighing as he tucked it under his arm. He was a relatively normal-looking dude –  with scraggly blond hair and gray eyes, sure, which wasn’t particularly common around these parts, but Yuu’s cat was green so he couldn’t really say anything about that.

… okay, he was normal-looking save for the fursuit.

Honestly, Yuu wasn’t sure what animal it was supposed to be. The ears were round? Maybe a bear? Why was it fucking blue of all things?

A fish, maybe?

No, fish don’t look like that.

Was it wrong to ask?

Wait, he was being impolite. Problematic, even.

“We’re not, like, kink-shaming you,” Yuu said, despite the fact that he totally was.

“It’s the apocalypse, you do you,” Deuce said, awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck.

“Yeah, yeah,” Ace echoed. “Whatever makes you feel confident, I guess.”

The stranger’s face flushed a faint red. It was probably hot in that suit, especially when he was so close to the fire. He should probably take it… off…

No, he shouldn’t, please don’t, actually, Yuu has reconsidered.

“It’s – I have an explanation!”

They waited, patiently, for said explanation.

The person looked relieved that they were even being given a chance. But they couldn’t seem to explain themself, because they kept awkwardly opening and closing their mouth, starting sentences just to stop them immediately after. Finally, they turned around, peering into the dark.

“Jack, come out and explain it, you’re better at this.”

Oh. There was another one.

Yuu was going to have a breakdown.

He sent the person in a wolf fursuit a weak smile. “Nice to – nice to meet you.”

The person cleared their throat. “Yeah, so, it’s to protect us from zombies. They won’t be able to chew through it, y’know?”

“What – what about other survivors?” Ace asked. “Like, I could slash through that stuff just fine…”

“Most people we face are disoriented enough for us to disarm them,” Jack said.

That checked out.

“... why didn’t you just wear full denim, instead?” Deuce asked. “Same effect, but less…”

There was a beat of silence. If they could see Jack’s face, Yuu was sure his expression would be the kind you wear when you’re looking over an old test and see something you got wrong that you really shouldn’t have. Original Furry (or was he a furry by proxy?) looked at Jack, who shifted awkwardly from foot to foot.

“It wouldn’t cover everything,” he defended himself, weakly.

Everyone continued to look at Jack, varying levels of incredulity etched on their faces.

He cleared his throat. “Besides, double denim is a crime against fashion. Right, Ruggie?”

‘Ruggie’ nodded a little too hastily for them to see it as genuine.

And, regardless, they had eyes. Common sense. Free will, even.

Yuu looked, pointedly, at the fursuit once again. “A crime against fashion, huh?”

Jack coughed, awkwardly.

Deuce was the only one kind enough to divert everyone’s attention:

“You should probably, like, cake that thing in bl – mud or something,” he suggested, squinting Ruggie’s bright blue fursuit. “It’s super noticeable.”

Ruggie lifted his hands in a kind of shrug. “In the dark, you can’t see colors. There isn’t much of a point down here.”

Yuu, who had spent more time in the dark over the past day than he would like, could see his point. There were simply things that were close by, and things that were further away. Dark and darker. If they hadn’t been right next to a fire, it would have been fine, and Yuu doubted that they spent that much time by fires.

But Yuu had to admit that he wasn’t sure what they would do up on the surface.

If they ever went to the surface.

Ace must have come to a similar conclusion, because his eyes narrowed suspiciously. Still, he was quick to correct it by crinkling them in a smile that Yuu knew was entirely fake.

“We should get going,” Ace said, dipping his head politely. “Thank you for having us.”

Ruggie raised an eyebrow. “Really? We were just about to have dinner. We got our hands on a couple of Twinkies.” He leaned in, conspiratorially. “Want to learn whether or not they really have an infinite shelf life?”

Yuu had never wanted anything more.

He pressed his lips into a thin line. If it was Twinkies, then they would still be in their packaging. If the food had been tampered with, then they’d know, since the plastic would have to be damaged in some way. So, it wasn’t as if they could poison them. As for a direct attack, they were wearing bulky fursuits, so they weren’t really threats.

And, really, everyone knows you can’t kill a man while he’s eating Twinkies! That’s just fucked up.

So, after looking at Ace and Deuce to see whether they had caught something he’d missed, he shrugged and nodded.

“Sure. Twinkies sound great.”

“That’s not really a dinner food, though,” Deuce pointed out. “Yuu can cook something.”

Yuu sent him an incredulous look. “You can’t just – volunteer me to cook!”

“Yeah!” said Ace. “Only I can do that!”

“No?”

Ruggie snickered behind his hand. “Well, I’d never turn down free food.”

Yuu sighed. What did he do to deserve any of this? Outside of starting the apocalypse, because he hadn’t done that, remember?

Somewhat reluctantly, he sat down by the fire. Held out a hand, grinning when Deuce handed him his backpack. He rifled through it, pulling out a few scattered ingredients. They had some rations. They had packed enough for about a week, but they’d have to scrounge for food sometime soon…

Onigiri, maybe? he mused, pulling out a jar of umeboshi.

But the problem with umeboshi was that they’d have to commit to eating it for the next few days, since it wouldn’t keep. Was Yuu ready to make that kind of commitment?

He sighed, popping it open. Sure, whatever. Maybe Jack and Ruggie would be freakishly into umeboshi, and Yuu wouldn’t have to worry about maintaining the leftovers –.

“You guys can come out,” Jack said, turning to peer into the darkness. “They’re safe, I think.”

Yuu felt as if he had been doused in cold water. He immediately stopped considering the plums, his head jerking around to find a few people (also dressed as furries, yay…), slowly stepping into the light. Ace and Deuce pressed closer to Yuu, their hands tightening on their weapons.

Yuu swallowed thickly, watching them all crowd around them.

… it didn’t matter if they were outnumbered, because, at the end of the day, they were all in fursuits. They weren’t going to be able to move fast, and trying would only end up in clumsy movements that Yuu could take advantage of. He was safe. He was safe.

He took a deep breath to steady himself, before flashing a smile, his head tilting to the side. “At least I won’t have to worry about leftovers! Are all of you down to eat umeboshi?”

One of them, in fact, was not. Leona, a guy in a lion fursuit (no, Yuu was never going to get over that, because what the fuck), strode over. The head of his costume was tucked under his arm like a demented kind of football, but he tossed it aside to pick up the jar Yuu was holding – clumsily, his giant ‘hands’ ghosting around it a few times before he finally managed to grab hold of it – and lifting it to his nose. He sniffed, experimentally, before jerking the jar away from himself so fast that a little bit of the pickle brine sloshed over his fursuit.

Yuu grimaced. That would be a pain to get out.

But, frankly, Leona deserved to suffer for not liking umeboshi. It was, probably, a crime. Too bad there wasn’t a legal system around to prosecute him anymore.

Everyone else was happy to eat it, so Yuu decided to make one with plain rice for Leona and call it a day. He was a saint, but even saints wouldn’t make a whole alternate dish just for one person! He was doing this for free!

… wait, how did he get roped into this? Hadn’t he said he didn’t want to?

He sighed, scooping up the jar again. He’d already opened it, he supposed he had committed to helping.

He passed out the onigiri as he made them. Ace and Deuce got theirs first (at the exact same time, because there was no way Yuu was going to deal with one of them complaining about favoritism), and then Yuu started on the ones for the random people they had stumbled across.

In the meantime, Ruggie pulled a backpack out of the front of his suit and set it in front of himself, picking through it until he found the promised Twinkies. He tossed them to anyone who asked. Yuu grimaced when the one he asked for hit him in the shoulder, sending Ruggie a glare.

“You could have waited until my hands were free,” Yuu sniffed.

Ruggie lifted his hands in a nonchalant shrug. “I wanted to see if you’d drop the food in your lap.”

He rolled his eyes. “Someone’s not getting any onigiri.”

Ruggie narrowed his eyes, before snatching up the Twinkie at Yuu’s side. “Fine. No Twinkie for you, either.”

Oh. He didn’t think that through at all.

“Wait, Ruggie, let’s talk about this –.”

~

“So, who do you think the actual furry is?” Ace whispered, grinning.

“Who says one of them actually has to be one?” Yuu asked, rolling his eyes.

“I mean, someone had to figure out that the costumes are hard to bite through. And who goes around biting furry costumes?” Ace reasoned, far too smug for someone talking about furries in an abandoned subway during the zombie apocalypse. “I rest my case.”

“It’s got to be the lion,” said Deuce, after a moment’s thought. “I feel like, if someone’s gonna be a furry, they’ve got to go for a cool animal, right?”

Ace and Deuce were, of course, done with their food and now crowding around Yuu with pleading eyes. Yuu was pretty sure that the conversation was meant to distract him from the fact that he had already made them food. But whatever. He could make them seconds. Onigiri was filling, but not particularly nutrient-rich. There was a chance that Ace and Deuce would get more out of the Twinkies than the onigiri. So, yeah, he would gladly feed them a little extra. He didn’t want them to keel over, after all.

He sighed, sending them a briefly annoyed look so they knew it wasn’t because of their attempts at manipulating them, before getting to work.

Ace smiled, only a hair sheepish, and only for the sake of alleviating Yuu’s annoyance.

“So, what do you think, Yuu?”

Yuu raised an eyebrow. Jerked his head in Jack’s direction. He was one whom Ruggie called upon to help explain their case; therefore, he was probably the one who had come up with the idea. The guy was also totally the kind of quiet guy who claimed that he was secretly a wolf on the inside or something. Hell, he was even sporting a wolf cut (admittedly, this was probably because access to barbers was limited here, but it was still apt)!

Jack’s face flushed. Unsurprising, seeing as Ace and Deuce were not trying to be quiet in the slightest.

“I’m not –!” He huffed. “Fine, here’s the lowdown.”

Apparently, they had been a football (or, as Americans say, sah-cah) team, back before their lives had all taken a turn for the worse. The outbreak had started during a game, and their team mascot had managed to fend off the zombies for quite a while, which was how they had figured out that they could be used for protection.

Ace, Deuce, and Yuu shared skeptical glances, but decided it wasn’t worth it to argue right now, so they simply nodded and asked them to continue.

Ruggie, it turns out, was wearing said mascot uniform. It was a hyena.

The football team didn’t know why the hyena was blue, either. It wasn’t even their school colors!

But, as Yuu chowed down on his own food, finally, looking around, he couldn’t quite ignore this feeling that was nagging at him. A faint buzz in the back of his mind. It was only after he had finished counting the seven furries that he figured out what, exactly, was wrong: “Uh, aren’t there supposed to be, like, eleven people on a football team? Minimum?”

Leona raised an eyebrow at him. “Well, families are supposed to have at least three people, but you don’t see me pointing out the distinct lack of parents here.”

Yuu’s eyes fell back to the food, his face flushing, feeling thoroughly chastised.

“At least two people,” Deuce corrected, quietly.

Leona grimaced. Ha!

“And there’s three of us here,” Ace said, slinging his arms over Yuu and Deuce’s shoulders, dragging their faces close, until their faces squished against each other’s. “So… it’s, by your definition, a complete family.”

“I think I mentioned ‘parents’,” Leona sighed. “But, sure, fine.”

Ace smiled, languid and catlike, as if he had won. No one wanted to argue with him, so Yuu supposed that that was close enough.

But Yuu only had room in his heart for one catlike smile, and he wasn’t really the type to let his friend’s ego get too big: “You’ve made your point. Get off.”

“No. I don’t feel like it.”

Deuce started leaning against him, too.

Yuu rolled his eyes. Truly, he suffered more than anyone else. Where was Grim when he needed his personal attack cat to scare people off?

Yuu gave a hiss when Ace slumped further against his back, his arm beginning to dig into his shoulder a bit too much.

He turned his head, intent on telling his friend off.

Only to find Ace’s eyes drooping, his head slowly falling to press into the back of Yuu’s good shoulder.

Yuu, with a casualness he didn’t really feel, set down his food to rest a hand atop Deuce’s head. The boy immediately sighed contentedly and threw his arms around Yuu, as if he were a body pillow.

Admittedly, this behavior wasn’t entirely strange, not for them. They had been sleeping near each other lately, cuddles weren’t exactly out of the question…

But neither of them would ever be quite this relaxed in the face of strangers. Hell, they were barely ever this relaxed in Grim’s presence, even though the zombie had already (more or less) proven that he (probably) wouldn’t eat them (unless the situation was dire).

No, something was wrong.

“Ace?” he said, slowly.

Ace gave a low hum, as if to say he was listening.

“Move your arm for me?”

Ace’s arm flopped off of him.

“Great, thanks,” he said, though he barely even registered that he was even saying it. He was too busy trying to figure out what it was that had poisoned them. It couldn’t be gas or anthrax, plenty of the furries had taken their costume’s heads off and would be succumbing too. It couldn’t be the Twinkies, Ace had made sure to punch holes in the three cake packages, listening for the telltale whoosh of air exiting the package for the first time, to ensure that they were truly untampered with… and, besides, Yuu hadn’t gotten to his yet, and Deuce had been waiting in solidarity, so that wouldn’t explain what had gotten to Deuce.

And, now that he thought about it, hadn’t he been a little more quiet for the past half an hour? Hadn’t he heard a buzzing in the back of his mind, a nagging feeling that something was wrong?

But if he had been poisoned, too, then how?

The only thing he could think of was the onigiri, but that had been made with Yuu’s ingredients and equipment. And no one had touched –.

Yuu lurched forward, shoving his fingers down his own throat.

Shit. Shitshitshit.

He needed to throw up. Now.

Leona had touched the umeboshi. Had made a show of struggling to grab it. Had jerked it away from himself, spilling a bit of the liquid over himself.

(Had dropped something into the jar. Had swished the liquid inside around, hiding the toxin that was slowly dispersing itself within the brine.)

As if taking pity on him, Jack lifted a hand, palm up, to show off the uneaten food.

Yuu finally managed to expunge his stomach.

He could hear Ace murmur something that might have been ‘ewwwww’. Deuce whined about how is ‘pillow’ was moving.

Yuu peeled them both off of him, pulling his gun from his waistband, pushing himself to his feet. Pointed it at the nearest person.

His fingers curled over the trigger, his hands shaking, his knees weak. He couldn’t tell whether it was anxiety at the idea of murdering someone or the toxin that had to be in his system already.

“Why is that one still aware?” Leona asked, sounding irritated.

Ruggie sighed. “He didn’t eat until after everyone else, what did you want me to do?”

Jack’s lips pressed into a thin line, staring at the gun aimed at his chest. He gave Yuu a strange, pitying look. And then looked at everyone else, almost imploring. “They’ve been nice, you know, I don’t think they really need to be purged –.”

“If they were willing to come down here, they would have been willing to kill to move forward,” Leona drawled, pointing at the gun in Yuu’s clammy hands. “Or are you having second thoughts, Jack?”

Everyone’s eyes fell on Jack. If he were actually a wolf, like he surely believed, his tail probably would have tucked itself between his legs.

Jack looked at the ground. “No. I’m not.”

Oh. They’re not just furries.

They’re a cult.

Yuu’s fingers fumbled along his gun, unsure. He knew how to shoot, yes, but if he tried to do so then he would be proving Leona’s point. And he wasn’t confident in his ability to take on this many people in a fight, fursuit or no. Especially not when Ace and Deuce were out cold at his feet, free for the furries to use as leverage.

He would just need to… stall, then.

Well, good thing he loved the sound of his own voice.

“My cult is better than yours,” Yuu said, his eyes flicking to the shadows. Where were his stalkers when he needed them?

Ruggie spluttered. “The fuck? Excuse you?! One, we’re not a cult. Two, if you don’t worship Her, then you really must be purged.”

“You’re not a cult, you just believe in a god-like figure specific to solely you guys, declare everyone else the ‘outgroup’, and actively murder anyone who you believe to be ‘morally corrupt’,” Yuu said. “But not in the ‘cult’ way, in the fun, cool, totally hip way, right?”

“... yes,” said Ruggie.

Yuu nodded along, giving him a mockingly pitying look. “Right, of course. Well, I have a question: what happens when She doesn’t save you, and there’s no one else on the island for you to Purge? Who goes first?”

A hand settled on Yuu’s shoulder, fingertips digging into the bandages.

Yuu gasped, flinging himself forward, away from the hand. His hands and knees scraped against the floor, but he barely felt it over the fucking lava that had decided to make itself a home in his shoulder.

He flipped onto his back, pressing a hand to his shoulder. It hurt even more when he did that, but if he had popped his stitches then…

Leona stood over him, his expression cold.

Well, he supposed it wouldn’t matter anymore.

“He’s trying to divide us. We shouldn’t let him,” Leona said. His eyes lifted, briefly, to Jack, something that should never truly be considered a ‘smile’ playing across his lips. “Do the honors, will you? Since he’s clearly not intent on passing out the easy way.”

Jack looked at Yuu. Took slow, deliberate steps forward, as if he was trying to soothe a wild animal.

Yuu dropped his hand from his shoulder, fingers ghosting along the floor in search of his fallen gun. He hadn’t even noticed he’d dropped it, but he supposed he must have at some point –.

“Looking for something?” Ruggie drawled.

Yuu didn’t have to look up to know what Ruggie was teasing him about.

Instead, he kept his eyes trained on Jack as the boy picked up Deuce’s bat.

“Please,” Yuu said, forcing tears to his eyes. It wasn’t that hard. “You seem like a nice guy, you – you can’t –...”

Jack grimaced, even as he lifted the bat above his head. “I have to.”

~~~~~

Pt17>

[crowscallthecrows]

A 'what if' scenario

(Spoilers for the blue cult arc, Gregory Violet, etc. Descriptions of character death and needles.)

---

Their corpses lay so still Violet can convince himself they're sleeping, as hands creep up his shoulders, squeezing slightly to imitate some sort of comfort.

He knows Blavat is watching, watching in satisfaction that makes his stomach churn and his breathing catch just a bit more as his mind reels at the sight he's been sent to see by none other then the fortune teller himself. The man behind him sighs, removing his hands to stride towards the chairs that still have their middles held down with familiar thick leather straps. The look on his face can almost resemble regret, and Violet's sore arm prickles at the soft contact he makes with Bluewer's face.

"You know," he shrugs with resignation. "It's a shame, really. They shone so bright on stage." Blavat reaches out again, this time to stroke the blond edges of Redmond before Violet's own voice comes out, tears and rage seeping through the shakiness.

"Don't touch them." he hisses, before the old him takes over, to push his saucy tongue back in place again. "...please. Please."

Warning flashes over the diviner, this is what happens when you try to get sneaky with me, before choosing relent over threats with another sigh. There was a purpose to this after all, and there was no point to any of this if he didn't let the younger man relish in his mistakes. He smiles softly, briefly gazing at the stiff form of Greenhill.

"It's funny. Even when it was obvious they'd accepted their fates, the only name on their lips was yours-" he chuckles to himself then, shaking his head. " 'Where's Violet? What have you done with Violet?' It was as if their minds' couldn't rest unless they saw you safe, or dying with them."

Blavat walks past him towards the entrance, touching his shoulder so tenderly it makes the bile in his throat rapidly thicken.

"It's alright. They can be replaced with brighter stars, and we can start over together," he remarks with a grin, the same grin he does to all under the protection of Sirius.

"You didn't need their blood," is Violet's reply with a swallowed sob. "You had enough of their kind. You didn't need their blood."

He's ignored. The door open and Blavat's gone, surely to find someone to take care of the mess he had no problem causing.

Falling to his hands and knees, he empties his stomach first, tears springing from heaving until there's nothing left, his hacking making echos through the quiet room. Trembling knees make his steps staggered and uneven, his feet taking him to the closest feeling of home he has left.

They lay pale, yet they look like they're meant to be breathing. Slumped forward and half hidden by hair, Redmond's half lidded eyes feed his false hopes. Greenhill sits so straight it's like he's in a classroom again. Bluewer's lips stay slightly parted in one that resembles his expression of perfect thoughtfulness.

Knowing Bluewer, he would know something was wrong right away, twisting his arm hard against the restraints to delay the inevitable harm. Redmond would probably follow suite, probably a little too late, spinning questions and threats through the process until his body betrayed him and couldn't anymore. And Greenhill, how he must've fought, with so much heart, depending on himself to save the three of them alone. And of course...

The only name on their lips was yours.

"Sorry," he whispers to souls long since passed. He touches one of the arms filled with angry red marks, and flinches his hand back. They shouldn't be this cold.

He feels his shoulders start to wrack. "I'm sorry," his hands hover in the air, unsure what to do.

He'll never forget the way they move, the varying characteristics he could easily capture in his art just by looking, yet the other side of him is already forgetting what their voices sound like.

He can only bury himself in his hands. "I'm sorry." he can choke out once more before he's on his knees again, half praying they're able to be forgiven.

"-sorry, I'm so sorry-" How much did it hurt? Did they leave screaming for their parents, or with the acceptance Blavat claimed?

The silence that remains- crushing, unending- is the worst of all.

[jellymellydraws]

Masterlist ~ <<Previous Chapter ~ Next Chapter >>

Astarion x Dark Urge Chapter 14 Rating: E Tags: Angst, Fluff, hurt/comfort, slow burn, two guarded people fall in love so hard it makes them stupid

Chapter Summary:

Shadowheart takes her job as medic very seriously, despite their leader's stubborn protests. Rose makes a concerning announcement during their strategy meeting. She reflects on the growing trust between her companions and wonders how many more secrets are lingering between them. Gale is acting strange, and the devious smile on Astarion's face might hint as to why.

Jewelry softly jingled as rings rolled at the bottom of their crates. Bottles of aged wine clinked together, cushioned by little more than loose fabrics. Each set of arms cradled an open crate of goods from the village, ranging from magical to mundane. The camp would be alerted well in advance of their arrival, if not because of their heavy footfalls then it would be because of Alfira’s humming on the way back. Gleefully, Wyll would change his gait from even steps to long graceful strides along the melody that surrounded them. He circled them with a bow, extending a hand towards Alfira to join him. His antics were enough to disrupt the bard’s humming with a fit of giggles. The neck of a bottle leaned dangerously over the edge of his crate. 

“Careful!” Alfira gasped.

Rose skid to her knees, catching their precious cargo in her free arm before it could hit the ground.

Her shoulder did not appreciate this stunt. But the wine was saved!

They collectively breathed a sigh of relief, immediately followed by laughter.

“Sorry,” the Blade chuckled, taking back the bottle and gently laying it in his crate, “I got carried away by the spirit of the ballroom!”

“You were going to be carried away by the spirit of the river if this broke,” Rose teased. Pain shot through her arm as she pushed herself to her feet. Even with helpful hands extended to help her, she waved them off quietly.

“I’ll take another look at that shoulder,” Shadowheart commented as they continued their trek to camp, “and whatever it is that you’ve been nervous about, stop it. You aren’t doing yourself any favors leaving your wounds untreated.”

The assassin averted her gaze. The hidden presence of her scars stretched over her body, just by the mere thought. But the throbbing in her shoulder couldn’t care less about how much attention the hidden wounds were about to receive.

“Fine, but only the shoulder. Nothing more.”

“You shouldn’t have said that. Now I have to make sure nothing else is wrong.”

“Everything else is fine.”

���If you say so.”

“I do.”

Shadowheart rolled her eyes, dropping the matter for the rest of their travel.

If it wasn’t the disappearance of Rose’s tent that made camp feel off, it was definitely the way Astarion and Gale relaxed at their tents. They both held books in their hands but with varying facial expressions that hinted how intensely they were concentrated on their reading material. For starters, Astarion didn’t seem to be reading his book, but used it as an excuse to lounge outside and pretend he wasn’t trying to hear what else was going on in camp. There was a smirk across his face, and a devious glint in his eye when he glanced over at the returning party. The wizard had set up a stool as a makeshift table where he scribbled a quill into parchment, refusing to look up from his work. His cheeks looked redder than usual but Rose couldn’t make out if it was due to anger or some other expression. When Gale chanced a look up from his work, his face flushed at the sight of the group, and quickly returned to his writing.

Huh, that was…odd.

Lae’zel approached and stood at the ready like the trained warrior she was.

“I rested, as instructed,” she announced to Rose, “and completed the task you assigned to me.”

“Did you slaughter an ant hill while we were away?” Shadowheart teased, “I know they can be vicious in large numbers.”

“I do not know what this ‘ant hill’ is but your tone is clear that this is not a worthy enemy. I wouldn’t waste my time on such things.”

Lae’zel’s snarl gave the cleric her achievement, and a satisfied smirk stretched over her lips. Rose jabbed an elbow into Shadowheart’s side, shooting her a warning look.

”Where’d you move my tent to?” She asked, realizing her tent could be literally anywhere at that point. She didn’t think to give Lae’zel specific instructions on the where, just the what. The gith extended an arm towards the bushes, where the top of a tent could be seen just over them. From the looks of it, her new sleeping arrangement was just off the path to the river, but still in sight of the others. She sighed with relief. “Perfect.”

The gith nodded, pleased to have finished her assignment to satisfaction. Unprompted, she began taking the crates out of everyone’s hands, stacking them carefully on the ground before hoisting them into her arms. It was always astounding that Lae’zel, despite her slim and sleek stature, was one of the strongest among them. 

“The scouts returned some time ago.” Lae’zel explained as she adjusted her hold for more stability, “I would suggest speaking to them urgently. The wizard in particular seemed flustered upon return. I asked what happened but he wouldn’t say…which is odd for him.”

Great .

“I wonder what they got up to,” Shadowheart smirked towards Astarion. 

The Elf’s head rested casually in his hand, looking past Shadowheart to their increasingly cautious leader. His smirk grew ever slightly, and he wiggled his fingers in her direction, as if innocently greeting her back from a long morning. 

Gods, what did you do?

Her good arm was firmly tugged towards him. Shadowheart’s hold did not ease, but somehow she managed to swipe one of the wine bottles from the crates before the gith made off with them. The cleric was going to make good on her promise to examine that arm, whether Rose protested or not.

“Ah, my favorite traveling companions!” Astarion greeted them, though made no move to make room for them. “How was the village? Kill anything interesting?”

“Giant spiders,” Shadowheart answered, giving Rose’s arm another tug closer, “ this one had the bright idea to act as bait for the Queen and almost lost her arm.”

“Seems to be firmly attached. Though give it another tug, maybe it’ll come loose.”

“Other arm.”

Astarion tutted teasingly. Seeming to have his entry fee paid for by way of quips and gossip, he closed the red-covered book and adjusted the few pillows he stole from the grove. The cleric wasted no time pushing Rose down to them. At least she had the courtesy to let the assassin doff her own armor while the elves gossiped.

“Didn’t the goblins get a good stab into her arm at the grove?”

“At this rate, maybe she doesn’t want her arms?” Shadowheart uncorked the bottle of wine and poured it into a set of brass cups. “It’d be easier for her to ask Lae’zel to chop them off.”

“HA! What a shame, they’re lovely arms, too.” He held out his cup to tap her’s. “I’m still thinking about how they wrapped around—“

She pulled her drink back right before their cups touched.

“Ugh, stop. I didn’t bring her here for you to ogle at.”

Their words didn’t match the sounds they spoke. After more back and forth between her pointy-eared friends, she realized the tongue they conversed in was not the common one. 

“I’m surprised the Blade of Frontiers was nowhere to be found while a Damsel was in Distress.”

“The damned Matriarch hatched half of its nest and surrounded us.”

When did they shift to speaking in Elven?

“You know, maybe scouting with Gale wasn’t such a bad thing, after all.”

Wait, how did she know they were speaking Elven?

“I wonder if Gale would say the same about you.”

She understands Elven?!

“Did you miss me that much, darling?” Astarion smirked, addressing Rose in the Common tongue.

She was staring. Hand frozen over the armor that now rested in her lap.

Could she speak Elven?

Did she want to try?-- No, no. Not yet. Keeping this info to herself could be…useful.

“Did you break our wizard?” she blurted out, taking the conversation by the horns and steering it as far from her sudden discovery as plausible.

“In what way?” He leaned towards her, pulling the armor from her lap and pushing it aside, “don’t tell me you’re the jealous type?”

He began to crawl closer, but a hand jutted out, holding him at its length. The cleric eyed him sternly, “I don’t want to be confined to camp the rest of the day, so how about you take a few steps back and let me work?”

He pouted, but settled for sitting cross-legged in front of them.

“I need you to take this off, I can’t really see what I need to.” The cleric gave her shirt a few light tugs, but made no attempt to remove the garment herself.

She looked over the campsite. Wyll and Alfira were chatting next to Gale, and Lae’zel was walking a crate of items over to his tent. 

“Fine.” Rose tugged on her sleeve, hoping to limit how much of her shirt she’d be stripping. The pain in her shoulder disagreed. Greatly.

Shadowheart put a hand on Rose’s, stopping her from agitating the joint any further. “I’ll handle it.”

Astarion shifted how he was seated, managing his way closer to the two of them. The cleric didn’t stop him. She wondered if he did it on purpose, because she could tell that the rest of camp would have trouble seeing her bare front as Shadowheart pulled the shirt over her head.

”Oh hells,” she gasped, “well, that explains some things.”

Reflexively, Rose brought an arm over her stomach, hiding the scars. They looked worse in broad daylight. They weren’t faded, and stood out nastily against her flesh. Similar to the scars on her face and neck, these seemed to be new. Well, new er .

“Don’t make a fuss about it.” What she wanted to sound like a warning came out more as a plea. Her eyes narrowed, disappointed with herself. She grabbed the shirt from the cleric’s hands and covered her torso with it as Shadowheart abided by her wishes and focused on examining her injured shoulder.

“I presume you’ve already seen the scars?” the half-elf reverted back to Elven, briefly turning her look towards the other elf.

He didn’t answer. The cleric didn’t seem to mind as she scooted towards her back, following the marks in her shoulder left by the matriarch. The elvish muttering began, mentioning infection and a forming bruise.

“I still didn’t get an answer about how I supposedly broke the wizard,” Astarion spoke in Common, ignoring Shadowheart’s question entirely. But Rose wasn’t supposed to show she knew that, and forced back her smile.

“He’s all red in the face and isn’t making eye contact with anyone.”

“Mmmh, he seems to be just fine looking at Wyll. Although maybe he doesn’t think a stone eye counts as eye contact.”

“Astarion.”

“We were just having a casual conversation— you know, like anyone would when stuck alone for hours!”

“What did you say? ” She asked, slowly.

No answer, but his smirk screamed mischief.

“Nothing broken, but it’s going to be sore,” Shadowheart interrupted, “we’ll need to clean it in the river before doing anything else.” The cleric rose to her feet, handing the untouched wine cup to Astarion. 

Rose narrowed her eyes one last time to the elf, who continued to revel in getting away with… something. Before Shadowheart could complain, she was on her feet and following after.

Everyone took a few moments to rest, eat some fish, and relax after the long morning. Except Rose, who couldn’t be afforded such luxuries. She sat in the command tent, updating her journal in the light that streamed in from the open flaps. Various thoughts tangled together in the mess of her mind, slowly making sense as they were transferred to the page. 

A village that was long abandoned, now home to a horde of goblins. How long had they been there? It had to be recent, considering the grove’s concern. If the goblins had always been this close, they would’ve been more prepared to protect themselves and the refugees. 

Shadowheart’s worship of Shar, a confession holding immense weight on their cleric’s shoulders. The goddess’s name was vaguely familiar as she wrote it, but nothing else bubbled to the surface. Perhaps she was familiar with the goddess in a similar sense as any other commoner would be. She wouldn’t linger on it, not now. With a shake of her head, she continued her musings.

Earlier, entering the village and testing their True Soul theory— what was that she felt earlier in her head? The tadpole bit her, didn’t it? Was she the only one who felt it? Did anyone else feel it but were too fearful to share such a detail? Her eyes wandered to the rest of the camp outside.

Secrets were the core of each person in that camp— perfectly understandable, considering they were total strangers. Well, not total strangers at this point. 

Astarion and Shadowheart leaned against each other, snickering and gossiping behind their cups. Likely speaking in Elven as Rose had witnessed earlier. Gale sat with Alfira and Wyll as he examined the magical items from the village. Every so often, he looked to the bard and blade to add to whatever conversation they were having. Laughter filled the air of the camp. He didn’t seem to have issues with eye contact anymore, which was a relief.

How much were they still hiding from each other? 

”Something troubles you,” Lae’zel’s voice snapped her back to reality. Her form partially blocked the light in the command tent as she stood at its entrance. Despite the sternness in her eyes, there was a hint of concern in her tone. Rose couldn’t help but smile. Not a tenday ago it seemed the gith couldn’t care less about the human’s troubles.

“Something always troubles me, isn’t that the nature of leadership? To be troubled?”

“Is that why you asked for your tent to be isolated from the rest?”

The smile disappeared. “Somewhat. Do you think it was an overreaction?”

“No. It was smart. If your nightly terrors continue, our position would be given away or you’d impede the camp’s rest. It was necessary. You’re thinking of the group, as a commander should.”

“I knew you’d understand,” Rose sighed, “gather the others, we need to plan our next move.”

With a nod, Lae’zel disappeared from the tent and made her rounds. She walked from tent to tent, announcing that the party had been summoned. Astarion and Shadowheart didn’t drop their playful demeanors, which irritated the gith enough to quicken her steps to Gale’s tent. The way that she became frustrated with the camp elves was as fascinating as it was amusing. Gale, Alfira, and Wyll gave her the opposite reaction. She was more relaxed upon returning.

”They’ve been summoned.”

Within moments, the party gathered in the cramped space around the map. Shadowheart per usual, pulled out her own map and handed an extra piece of charcoal to Rose. Gale gingerly placed the crate of magical items on the ground, lingering for a moment as his eyes fell to the boots she wore. Ah, she forgot to remove them when they got back. He didn’t say a word about it as he rounded the stone and stood across from her. A rolled piece of parchment stuck out from the crate. His notes, probably. She plucked it from the crate to examine briefly.

As Rose scanned the writing, everyone else in the tent shushed their conversations. With a nod, the parchment was folded and tucked between the pages of her journal. She looked to the faces of her team, straightening her own posture as she addressed them.

“The village had been destroyed long before the goblins had arrived,” she began, looking at Lae’zel, Gale, and Astarion as she filled them in, “acting as True Souls, the guards let us in and walk around as we pleased. However this Absolute worship works, the tadpoles are definitely connected. Which brings me to my first question to all of you. Did anyone else feel a bite from their tadpoles earlier today?”

“A what!?” Lae’zel hissed.

‘I’ll take that as a no.’

“When I used the tadpole to assert our place as True Souls, I felt a twinge in my head. Nothing has happened since, but those of us considering the tadpole’s potential need to be aware of the risk involved.” She looked to the gith, who was controlling her breathing, “Lae’zel, I want you to stick with me the rest of the day. Keep an eye for any symptoms that we should be concerned about.”

Lae’zel nodded. Still not relaxing, but her arms changed from seeking weapons to crossing in front of her breastplate. Rose continued.

”The goblins sent their forces up north to raid Waukeen’s Rest. I would hope this means the temple has weakened defenses. Gale, Astarion: what did you see?”

”Not much,” Astarion waved a flippant hand, “you couldn’t find a better vantage point, Lae’zel?”

The gith ignored him.

Rose looked directly at Gale. His face flushed, instantly. Gods damn it. Her eyes narrowed, side eyeing the elf who suddenly became interested in the meeting.

The Wizard cleared his throat, shaking through his flustered expression and doing his best to recite their findings as expected of him.

”We saw outside the walls of the temple grounds, but hardly any view into the courtyard. Although, I didn’t see a lot of goblins roaming about either. No signs of Sazza, but I did see Brynna and her brother help move some crates about the place. Along with an ogre. Which, might I remind, is the first we’re becoming aware of them— up to this point it was just goblins and Drow. If there is one ogre, there are likely to be more. I advise that we choose our moment of attack wisely.”

“Are we going to strike while their forces are thinned?” Lae’zel asked, eyeing the map, “did you two find another way into the temple besides the bridge?”

“Well,” Astarion chimed in, “there was a way over the river, littered with traps. Good thing someone was there to disarm them.” He smiled cheekily, waiting for praise. The silence was met with a pout. The elf leaned over the map, pointing to where he made this discovery. He was quick to move his hand away when Rose pressed charcoal to parchment. “There are some trenches to jump over but it goes around their guardpost. We could sneak right in, leave them none the wiser.”

“That’s one idea…what else?” Rose looked to the others surrounding the map.

Shadowheart’s eyes were trained on where the temple had been marked. “I would wager the temple has been abandoned just as long as the village. There could be structural wear and tear over the years. If we go inside we should be careful to not cause any collapse. Unless it suits our needs, of course.”

“It could be perfect to find another way into the temple that isn’t the front gates,” Wyll pointed out, “a weakened wall, maybe? And a temple— well those are built tall and with rafters. If those haven’t fallen, we’d be able to position ourselves advantageously to strike from above.”

Notes were added to the journal as the ideas began to flow— much smoother than their last strategy meeting. Shadowheart and Wyll went back and forth on temple architecture and the best spots for stealthy movements. Gale reminded them of the storm they weathered, which would affect the surrounding terrain and make sneaking into the territory tricky for a group of their size. Lae’zel  suggested that this same storm could slow their army’s travel, buying them slightly more time before their forces returned.

“I want to know the layout of the temple before we do anything else,” Rose concluded. “I’m worried about what Sazza told them when she got back, what forces they have left to deploy, and we still haven’t come across a drow among the goblins. Not to mention: Master Halsin could be in there and have more answers about the tadpoles. Let’s gear up and head out. From what we know, they’ll let a True Soul waltz right in— and that’s exactly what we’re going to do.”

While the party was donning armor and packing supplies, Rose distributed the magical wares. Gale’s notes on the items were messily scribbled, but came with suggestions of who would gain the most use of certain items. Some of their magical properties were straightforward, like the weapons which were enchanted with more strength. She kept the boots on herself, and claimed the enchanted dagger. Lae’zel accepted the enchanted sword and a magical helm that Gale noted would boost speed. Specifically, he wrote ‘suitable for a front-line warrior, such as Lae’zel.’ Others were a little more involved, like a pair of bracers that could offer protection similar to a shield or armor, but only if the wearer didn’t have armor themselves. 

Apparently, magical items had standards.

“Gale, I’ve got something for you,” Rose announced as she approached the closed tent with the bracers tucked under her arm. A mage hand peeled one of the flaps open.

Gale was adjusting the strap to his book holster, with a practiced gesture testing how practical the new length was in terms of reach. He had the fastest preparation of the whole camp, needing only his robes before they departed. Some days he spent the rest of the time studying their scrolls or writing in his tome. Seems like she arrived just at the tail end of his prep.

“Ah, I’ll be right with you,” he answered with a wave. He avoided eye contact, decidedly fiddling with the book holster more than necessary, “erm, you said you had something for me?”

Her eyes narrowed.

”What happened this morning? You haven’t been able to look at me plainly since we got back.”

His cheeks flushed, “Ah sorry it—” he cut himself off, pausing. “It’s nothing. Astarion managed to get under my skin, is all.”

“Does he know about your condition?”

“No! No, he— I don’t think he does.” The redness spread over the rest of his face, “not based on what he was saying, at least. He has quite the imagination, that Astarion. But imagination is all it is, nothing further.”

She didn’t like the sound of that. Whatever he ‘ imagined’ left Gale… in whatever the hells state this was.

“Fine. I’m giving you the bracers,” she held the bracers up by her face, forcing him to tilt his head to look at her properly.

“Really?” Awe washed over his face as his eyes shifted between the bracers and her face.

“Your notes were clear: anyone with armor wouldn't benefit from these. Seeing as you’re the only one without armor, they’re perfectly suited for you.”

He swallowed, reaching for the bracers with a hungry look in his eyes. Once in his hand, he examined the leather detailing. “You mean it, I can have this…? For—”

She placed her hand over his, further securing his hold on them, “for whatever you need. They’re yours now.”

“Thank you.”

He pulled the bracers to his chest, holding them closely with a heavy sigh. Rose nodded towards him, before turning on her heel to leave. Bright purple lights illuminated the inside of the tent, as the air vibrated around her. She whipped around suddenly, finding that it was Gale who was the source. The bracers briefly glowed, as did the marks on his skin that spiraled away from his chest.

“That hit the spot.”

Rose blinked at him, unsure if she should look at the wizard or the bracers that he was now sliding onto his arms.

“Well,” she did little to hide her surprise and confusion, “I’m glad I found something so soon.”

“Me too, I hope we continue to be fortunate this way.” he smiled, with more life reflecting in his eyes than earlier that day. “Sincerely though: I understand I’m asking a lot without many answers in return. I promise, in due time, all will be told.”

In due time. Maybe she should consider the same.

Next Chapter >>

[thatfanficstuff]

Open Wounds - 20

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: angst and violence and stuff

A/N: It’s been a hot minute. Sorry about that.

They were wrong.

You weren’t there. Oh, you had been at some point. Your blood splashed around the lab and one of the training rooms was proof of that, but you were long gone by the time they arrived at the base.

A contingent of lesser Hydra fodder had been left to greet them, slow them down. Tony and his AI were combing through the files looking for some indication of where they had taken you while the rest of them just waited.

Bucky had gone back to not speaking other than to convey necessary information about new injuries and your emotional state. He stayed buried in your bond, forcing himself to feel the extent of your every feeling. It was the least he could do, a punishment far less than he deserved. And there in the midst of his teammates, his friends, his family, it was Wade that realized what he was doing.

“She let them capture her to protect you,” the mercenary said, announcing his presence as he stepped into the room where Bucky was pummeling a punching bag.

Guilt stabbed through him and he did his best to push past it. “I’m aware.”

“That doesn’t make it your fault.”

Bucky darted a glance to your best friend. Wade leaned against the wall, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans. A bulky sweater hung loose on his frame. “Leave it, Wilson.”

Wade pursed his lips. “No. I don’t think I will. There’s something you need to understand about our princess. She’s expendable.”

“Excuse me?” The tone was quiet, deadly, daring the merc to repeat what he’d just said.

“Easy, buttercup.” He held up his hands in a gesture of innocence. “That’s her opinion. Not mine.”

Bucky growled in annoyance.

Wade sighed. “Just listen, okay? She will place herself at risk to save anyone she deems worthy of it. If she gets injured in the act, well that’s just the price to be paid. But if she cares about you? If you’re lucky enough to be considered hers? She would burn the world down for you.”

He ran a hand over his head. “Look, what I’m trying to say is this was her choice. She decided you were worth more than her and she acted accordingly. And you need to face the possibility that she may do it again.”

Bucky’s brow furrowed. “What are you trying to say, Wade? What do you know?”

The merc licked his lips. “I’m just saying that her choices are just that. Her choices. You can’t take on the blame for that. Nothing she does is your fault. Say for instance, she decided to work for Hydra because they threatened her family. That wouldn’t be on you. She wouldn’t want you to blame yourself.”

Before Wade took his next breath, Bucky slammed him against the wall and held him in place with an arm across his throat. “Speak, Wilson.”

“Okay, okay.” Wade gripped the arm holding him place, but didn’t try to get away. He knew it was pointless. “There’s been some chatter. Word is Nicto is active again. Hydra is advertising her services.”

Bucky backed away as fear flooded through him, his eyes wide in disbelief. “No. She wouldn’t.”

Wade’s features contorted into a pained expression. “She may not have a choice, Barnes. Just because they couldn’t break her before doesn’t mean they didn’t succeed this time. She’s the toughest woman I know but we need to consider the possibility that she’s not herself anymore.”

Bucky’s jaw ached as he clenched his teeth. He dropped his head and linked his hands together on the back of his neck. He didn’t want to think about the possibility that you were Hydra’s. That he’d lost you. He’d purposefully been avoiding thoughts of what it meant that the only feeling he’d been picking up from you recently was anger. Waves of it in varying degrees but it was constant. So strong it seemed to be overwhelming anything else you may have been feeling.

A hand dropped on his shoulder and he jerked away. “Don’t.” He couldn’t stand to be comforted right now. He didn’t deserve it as long as you were gone.

You’d been pissed since you woke up in the lab. Well, that wasn’t precisely true. At first you were incredibly relieved to find you were still yourself. In fact, you couldn’t figure out what the hell they’d done to you. Maybe it had been a scare tactic. You wouldn’t put it past Strucker in the least.

“Ah, she wakes.” Speak of the devil.

“I am sure you are wondering what improvements we made while you slept.” He held up a small remote with three buttons before slipping it back into his pocket.

You frowned in confusion.

“You see, as much as I would like to believe what you say, I’m afraid I don’t trust you. You have betrayed us before, after all. So, some assurance of your compliance was required.” His lips twisted into a sneer as he stared down at you.

Your hands itched to curl around his throat. “Spit it out, Stucker.”

His gaze turned hard. “Perhaps a demonstration is in order.” He slipped a hand into the pocket where he’d placed the remote.

A moment later lightning shot through your brain. As your entire focus became your pain, you twitched and pulled against your restraints. The pain stopped as suddenly as it came though ghosts of it continued to travel through your body causing you to continue twitching.

“You will comply or you will suffer. And if you resist despite this, you will die.” He pulled the remote out to show you again and pressed on the bottom button causing a red light to flash. “All I have to do is hold this button for ten seconds and the chip we put in your brain will explode.”

Your heart raced as he released the button at the last second. You didn’t want to die but maybe that would be the better option. Not that Strucker would make it that easy.

To prove your point, he leaned forward so he could speak right into your ear. “And should you prove uncooperative enough that I am forced to kill you, I will detonate the chip that remains in your lover’s brain.”

You froze. No. That was a lie. It had to be.

Strucker straightened and stepped away from the table to put some space between you. “You think I lie. That if there was a chip in Soldat’s brain we would have already activated it. Pierce does not wish to do so until we are certain he can not be returned to our ranks. But things happen.”

His eyes studied you for a moment. “Rest assured, Nicto. If you fall, so does Soldat.”

Your training began the next day. At first, you attempted to show mercy, to keep from killing or maiming the others you fought against. Every time you did, Strucker fried your brain. The bastard.

So, you forced yourself to turn into the soldier they wanted you to be. You performed as ordered. You broke bones, knocked them out, slit throats, put bullets into brains. You comforted yourself with the knowledge that unlike you, most of them were mindless killing machines. The ones that weren’t, wanted to be here. They volunteered to be part of Hydra’s ranks. Every death or dismemberment was one less soldier killing for Hydra.

And when you weren’t training, you were plotting a way to get that damned remote and escape. Strucker taunted you with it enough, you always knew right where it was. But then he’d just kill Bucky. Gods, you had no idea how you getting out of this mess with both you and your soulmate breathing.

You’d finished another day of mindless fighting and were sitting in the lab while they drew blood and checked your vitals. At least the doctor working on you today was one of the decent ones. She didn’t inflict pain just to do it and she kept up mindless chatter as she worked as if she was trying to make you forget where you were.

When Strucker walked in the room both of you froze. He smirked before dismissing the two techs that had been in the room with you. They hurried out the door.

“How is our asset, doctor?” he asked.

She cleared her throat. “All vitals are within normal levels. The last labs showed promise. We’ll have the new numbers tomorrow.”

“Very good. You do your job very well, Dr. Gannon. You are a true asset to Hydra.” He pulled a pistol from his belt and handed it to you.

You took it automatically and frowned at him, your brow furrowed.

“Kill her,” he ordered.

You arched a brow but didn’t question him. You were too used to Hydra’s fucked up games to be that surprised.

“What?” The doctor whimpered. Her gaze moved from Strucker to you. “Please don’t. My daughter.”

You glanced at the picture of the girl pinned to her workstation and clenched your teeth. You didn’t want to do this. This wasn’t a soldier hell bent on hurting you. This was a mother with a little girl waiting for her to come home. Ruby. The girl’s name was Ruby, you remembered.

You closed your eyes as she continued to plead with both you and your master. You forced yourself to remember that this was also one of the doctors that injected your veins full of chemicals that burned you from the inside out. That tortured you in the name of science. That volunteered to work for the bad guys. The fact that she was friendlier when she did it didn’t make any difference.

“Now, Nicto.”

In one smooth motion you opened your eyes, raised the gun, and fired.

[rosenongrata]

solitary solidarity – iv

Summary: A selection of writings that explore the early days of the odd relationship between Doctor Veritas Ratio and Missus Kagome Ikeda.

A/N: so i actually finished this last night, but just posting it now cuz i may have promptly fallen asleep once i was done lol

c.w/s: varies on what part, but i'll make sure to mark each addition with the proper tags in the a/n. OC-insert. c.ws for chapter: im actually not sure how to put this, but implications to abuse ig?? nothing is explicitly mentioned but it's possible to tell shits wrong between Kagome and her husband (also he calls her a whore once). soft Ratio hours (again). Kagome dissociates pretty hard for half of the chapter

w.c: ~1.4k

The two esteemed scholars had been chatting during lunch today – while Dr. Ratio prefers eating by himself in the sweet, sweet privacy of his office; he chose to accommodate Kagome’s wishes to be in the cafeteria instead for today. He knows well that she’s not the most sociable, so her eagerness to be in the populated cafeteria instead of her office strikes him as odd.

At least, that’s what he was thinking prior to a man with a head of black hair and a pair of tired brown eyes showing up – he even has a disgustingly sweet smile plastered on his face while he stands behind her. When the man brushes his fingers along Kagome’s shoulder, she nearly snaps her lacquered wood chopsticks in half.

“Hey, dear,” He says lightly, “I decided to visit you at your office today! It sure is nice here.” He grasps her shoulder tenderly, but that’s what makes Kagome’s skin crawl.

“Good afternoon, Shoto,” Kagome quickly composes herself, the life and color draining from her expression and eyes – Dr. Ratio didn’t expect to see her eyes to somehow grow even more lifeless.

“Ah, so this is…” The doctor’s eyes flick up and down Shoto’s figure, “…your husband.” Dr. Ratio says, his arms firmly crossed – looking unamused as he always does.

Shoto’s smile cracks a little from irritation, but is swiftly repaired within moments.

“This must be your…friend, right?” Shoto asks his lovely wife.

“…Yes, I’m her friend.” Dr. Ratio answers for her – he can see her inattention to her surroundings written all over her features. It’s a half-lie, but he deems it necessary for his plan to get her husband out of here – away from her. The other day with her – when she had punched him in the face – was all he needed to know about this man.

“Anyway,” Shoto turns his attention back onto Kagome, and the doctor swears he can see her curl a little bit away from her husband, “I got you a gift, dear! I’m sure you’ll love it. Here,” He pulls out a thin rectangular black box before opening it, revealing a pair of black gloves, “New gloves!”

“Oh, uhm… Th-thank you, Shoto…” She shakily sets her chopsticks down, staring down at the brand-new gloves before her.

(…He’s love-bombing her. Why am I not surprised…) Dr. Ratio ponders, eyes narrowing at the shorter man.

“C’mon, put them on. They’re very soft!” Shoto pressures.

“But… Shoto, you know that—” Kagome grimaces slightly, refusing to meet her partner’s eyes that grow with impatient anger.

People in the cafeteria begin watching more intently – gossiping amongst themselves. Not even so-called geniuses are immune to the flavorful taste of brewing drama. And then Shoto grabs her wrist, ready to pluck off her old gloves – the ones that have been patched over and over again, sewn back together numerous times over the years.

“Here, I’ll help you!” He chirps, his voice so fake it’s painful – to the doctor, at least.

Dr. Ratio rolls his dichromatic eyes before standing up abruptly – Kagome fully expects him to leave, she wouldn’t blame him for it, either. But, instead, the scholar grabs the other man’s wrist with a near death grip – leaving a burn ache in Shoto.

“You need to leave.” He mutters to the smaller man, glaring down at him, “You’ve wasted enough of everyone’s time.” If there’s one thing Dr. Ratio is – without a doubt – it’s fearless. “Especially Kagome’s.” He grumbles.

“What’s it to you?” Shoto bites back with a nasty grin, but the stronger man can feel him tremble with fear in his grasp.

“To be frank, it’s none of your business – nor is it any of your business to be pestering Kagome, me, and the rest of the Guild.”

“Very funny. Anyway,” Shoto pushes the doctor off with some ease, but only because Dr. Ratio allowed him to – he’s waiting for the husband to make another mistake, “We’re going, Kagome. We have business to attend to…away from these lovely people.” He throws a glaring glance at the opposing man before grabbing Kagome’s arm and roughly tugging her up to her feet.

“…That’s your last mistake, Shoto.” Dr. Ratio huffs, “I can either call security or…you can leave Kagome behind – here in the Guild.”

Weighing his options, Shoto scoffs at him and releases his wife’s now tender arm, “Fine, then. I’ll leave…” His voice lowers to a dark whisper, “She’s a good for nothing whore, anyway.” He glares into her unfocused eyes, “Look at her… She can’t even make a peep – tsk.” He rolls his eyes before departing.

Dr. Ratio says nothing to him, instead wrapping one arm around Kagome’s drooping shoulders as a way of keeping her upright. When he glances at the remaining people in the cafeteria, he notices they’re still talking with each other about Aeons knows what – most likely that little scene, he wagers.

“…Can you hear me, Kagome?” He whispers to her, and she fails to respond – her expression completely despondent and her eyes absent of awareness. “I will take that as a no.” He sighs.

He quickly cleans up her lunch materials, putting her bento box back together before leading her out of the cafeteria – anywhere that’s quiet and isolated will have to do. And he knows the perfect place – his office in the medical quarters.

They walk there, and each time she stumbles on her weakened legs, he catches her without too much thought about it. He assists her the whole way there – regardless of how slow she walks and no matter how many times she stumbles. And if he ends up having to carry her, he’ll do that, too.

Arriving in his office, Dr. Ratio helps Kagome settle down on the sofa in the quaint room before taking a seat at his desk. He swivels his chair in her direction – folding one leg over the other and resting his hands on his raised knee, they intertwine to form an overall scrutinizing posture.

Her eyes flutter shut, covering her lifeless stare that had been glued to the wall moments ago. It takes many minutes of pure silence – including the doctor removing his gaze from her, instead staring at the floor – before she can form words, let alone a single sound.

“Mmh…” She groans, pressing two fingers to her now-aching forehead – he can immediately tell it’s a tension headache that shoots through her skull.

Yet his offer for medication goes unheard for several moments as she rubs her head. When her mind finally processes that someone was speaking to her moments ago, her eyes shoot open and she finally spots him on the other side of the room.

“Did…did you say something?” She inquires; voice broken and weak.

His gaze is firmly on her figure, but not as firm as it often is – it’s softened, keeping his grumpiness low to avoid scaring her and worsening her condition.

“I asked if you would like some medication – for your tension headache, to be precise.” He replies.

“Uhm…” She sways a little in her seat, eyes losing focus again while her hand falls to her lap.

He sighs softly, turning away in his chair and grabbing a small bottle of headache relief medication from a drawer in his desk. He twists open the cap, taking a single pill out, and striding over to her after grabbing a cup of cool water from the water dispenser.

“You should take it,” He hands her the pill by taking her hand and placing it on her open palm, “At the very least, it will ease the inflammation.”

She gives him a small nod before taking the pill with water as instructed. He then rests the little white cup on the coffee table nearby. When he turns to return to his desk, he feels a weak tug at the tail of his clothes.

“Do you need something else?” He inquires as softly as he can as he turns back toward her – he’s well-aware that he sounds far too strict for his own good right now.

“Stay…” She breathes, the words coming from her held together by a thinning thread.

“I was not going to leave you alone. You are in no shape for isolation.” He reassures and takes a seat next to her once she releases his clothes.

“Thank you…” She whispers, her eyes falling shut again.

And without warning, she falls against his broad shoulder – her head resting there limply. He visibly stiffens – back straightening like a board and arms flexing into knots. When he hears sudden soft snores coming from her, he sighs in relief – his body deflating. He stays still for now, eyes scanning her peaceful features before glancing to the floor.

(…That’s that for now, then.) He sighs mentally, (But I know that this is only one facet of her – too much deeply troubles her. She’s not bored and emotionless by nature – no one is.)

[khaire-traveler]

hey can i ask you for religious advice? i’m helpol and i’ve found my way of worshipping is just different than other people’s. it’s not disrespectful or anything, i just don’t have the same casual relationship with gods like other people do, i guess. i think a lot of it has to do with just how i am, and the things affecting me.

(ex: i don’t have enough money to have big fancy altars or big offerings, so my offerings are usually in the form of emotion or things i do to honor them. i don’t pray everyday because i’m scared of being annoying. i have felt connection to deities who have no worshippers, etc etc.)

is this a common experience or is it just a me thing? and does it make me any less valid as a hellenic polytheist, or is it like considered a separate community in paganism all together? feel free to ignore for any reason. so sorry if i’ve bothered you

Hey, Nonny! You are absolutely NOT bothering me; I really enjoy giving advice and guidance when I'm able, so thank you for the ask! ☺️🧡

First of all, your way of worship is valid. You're doing nothing wrong, and it's important to realize that people will only share the best and most interesting parts of their worship online. They also don't show everything about their worship. The journey it took for some of these people to even just feel stable in their worship is not easily expressed through some pretty, fancy altar photo. So, yes, you are still a valid member of the Hellenic Polytheist community, even with your "uncommon" ways of worship, which are honestly not that uncommon.

Secondly, your worship sounds a lot more casual and true to how it actually is to begin working with deities than you may realize. Personally, I don't pray often - certainly not nearly every day 💀 - and I don't give many offerings physically, if at all. My altars are scattered, messy, and cluttered. They're as much of a work in progress as I am. There is no wrong way to worship, friend, and my best advice to give to you is to stop comparing yourself to other worshippers. Even in ancient times, practices varied completely from place to place - there was no one way to worship the gods. This still rings true for modern day. I've met Hellenic Polytheists who don't even use altars, simply because altars didn't line up with their beliefs. And you know what? That's ok! There's absolutely nothing wrong with that. Worship the way that feels true and right to you, not to somebody else. Make up the rules as you go. Have fun with it! Spirituality is meant to bring comfort, joy, and happiness, so worship the gods however the hell you want.

Thirdly, worshipping unrecorded deities is more than ok! Several people I actually follow on here do that very thing. It's not wrong or bad, nor does it make you any less part of the community. You're still very welcome here with open arms, ok? You and your deity. You belong here for as long as you wish to. No one can tell you otherwise.

I hope this brought you some comfort. You're being very harsh with yourself, and I want you to know that the gods will not judge you for imperfect worship. They are imperfect gods; if anything, they expect imperfect worship! You have a place in this community just as much as the next person. You're welcome here. You don't have to change a single thing about yourself. Take care, and be gentle with yourself. 🫂

[recipro-turbo]

brother mine - year ten

Chapter Rating: T Chapter Word Count: 910 Chapter Notes: originally posted to twitter here. tensei is 25 in this chapter.

Chapter-specific content warnings: minor child injury

Read on AO3 | Previous Chapter

Engine has been the dominant Quirk in the Iida Family for generations. Mutant-type Quirks were often dominant genes, but Engine had something that a decent chunk of Quirks in this class lacked: the next generation was always superior to that of their predecessors.

Tensei had explained it to Tenya in terms of technology―newer models often improved on the older ones, fixing what was wrong with the previous generation for a faster, more reliable processor. In their case, each subsequent generation of Engine was faster than the last, and depending on where in the body the engine systems manifested, the power could vary between siblings.

There are things Tensei can do that Tenya likely would never be able to on his own. He can hover about a foot off the ground, he can propel himself straight up like a rocket, he can technically fly short distances (though his comms team and his technicians and his medics really hate it when he does that). Having his Engines in his arms meant that he could be much more mobile than his father or his grandfather had been. He was also capable of reaching top speed instantly, whereas Tenya had gears he needed to go through one at a time.

But Tenya’s Engine placement is logical for someone with a speed-based Quirk. Even now, at ten years old, the kid is tall for his age. His speed without using his Quirk is astonishing. His strides are big enough to accommodate moving at speeds fast enough to break the sound barrier.

Tenya’s that step between generations, where a company makes key improvements to an existing model without overhauling the entire design. He’s superior without making Tensei obsolete, a preview of what’s to come if either of them have children. He’s the fastest Iida, and he’s still in primary school.

Being fast had one very brutal drawback, though―Tenya was not good at stopping, and he was even worse with corners. Which is why Tensei is currently kneeling in front of his little brother, who is very clearly trying not to cry while he checks to see if Tenya broke his nose from running straight into the massive tree back behind the Iida family estate.

“Sorry, Otouto,” Tensei says, as he gently prods the bridge of Tenya’s nose. He frowns sympathetically when Tenya inhales sharply at the contact, but nothing feels wrong. “Good news, it doesn’t seem to be broken! Bad news, you’re probably going to have some nasty bruising.

Tenya lets out a quiet, frustrated sound, wiping up blood and snot with the handkerchief Tensei keeps tucked in his pocket. “Again?”

“Stopping is hard. Corners are harder.” Tensei brings a hand up to Tenya’s shoulder. “Believe me, kiddo, I went through the same thing. You’ll get it eventually.”

Tenya doesn’t say anything as Tensei guides him over to one of the garden benches, where they have a first aid kit on standby. He radiates frustration the entire time Tensei tends to his bloody nose. He’s glaring at nothing in particular, eyes still brimming with tears even after his face has been cleaned up and little rolls of gauze have been pushed into his nostrils to staunch the bleeding.

“Tenya,” Tensei says gently. “I mean it―I didn’t get the hang of corners until I was in middle school. I have airbags installed in my suit because I still sometimes have trouble stopping reliably. I mean, just last week, I crashed trying to pursue that Bat Villain, remember?”

While the frustration in Tenya’s eyes doesn’t disappear entirely, his expression does become more thoughtful. “Can I try one more time?”

Tensei hesitates. He admires Tenya’s determination, but one more high-speed collision might actually break his nose. “You sure? There’s no shame in taking a breather and coming back to corners another day.”

“One more try,” Tenya says. “Please, Oniisan?”

Tensei lets out a soft huff of laughter, mussing up Tenya’s hair. “Alright, one more try.”

Tenya hops off the bench, expression fiercely determined as he walks back over to the starting line Tensei marked into the dirt with a stick. Tensei takes his spot near the tree, Mother’s contact info pulled up just in case―if Tenya did end up breaking his nose, he wanted to make sure to keep her in the loop.

“Ready?” Tensei calls over.

Tenya gets into position, staring straight at the tree.

“Go!”

Tenya’s engines roar to life as he sprints towards the tree at first gear, feet furiously hitting the dirt path that has been worn into the ground through generations of Quirk training. Tensei feels his heart beating hard in his chest as Tenya comes closer and closer to the tree, bracing for impact.

It does not come.

Tenya, about a meter or so away from the tree, turns to his right. He runs another few meters before skidding to a halt, eyes wide and chest heaving. After a moment, a wide grin breaks out across his face.

“I did it!” Tenya screams.

Tensei laughs, jogging over to his little brother. He hoists him up into his arms, pulling him into a tight hug. “You did it!”

Whatever frustration remains is dispelled and replaced by excited, enthusiastic energy. Tensei barely manages to get Tenya back on the ground before he runs towards the house to share his latest accomplishment with Father. With a laugh, Tensei texts Mother the good news, then goes back to the bench to pack up the first aid kit.

[literature-alchemist]

another writing practice from long ago!

       The air was thick with the cloying scents of acidic unguents and magic. Each place her eyes landed on told the story of what meticulous work was done for embalming the corpse of the fallen. Row after row of dark bottles of varying sizes, pristine silver tools laying in wait for someone to wield them once more, and the white sheets of fine cloth that now lay on empty stone beds accompanied by the dim shine offered by witch lights hanging from sconces on the pillars lining the path that ran through the center of the room. She knew she needed to keep her feet moving, mindful of the cracks that now snaked over once polished alabaster slabs.    Time had not been kind to this place.    His hand was the constant as he pressed it gently against her lower back, urging her to keep moving. Had she been alone she knew she would have stopped to take a closer look, her curiosity outweighing the goal.     Reach the end of the hall. Cross amongst where they had once laid, where they—    A choked gasp made her falter. At the end of the room stood a robed figure, the hood pulled well over their head; their posture bent, weak. It didn't move and though there was no breeze, the ends of the fine material swayed gently. Heart hammering, she swore under her breath as the fae next to her stilled only to set a finger over his lips.     Minutes seemed to trickle by for an eternity before anyone moved again. Somewhere far away she could feel her body shaking, her skin damp with sweat despite the coolness of the space. It was all wrong, from the soft blue hue of the lights, to the figure that faced the final stone bed. She wanted to bolt the same way they had come from but even in the desperation that now ignited all her senses to such a state she knew that turning back wasn't an option. Nor did she wish to tempt the luck they had received to cross over the crumbling bridges that led to the belly of the tower.            "Come now, we have to walk past. . . them." the fae beside her gave a gentle squeeze on her arm, which she now noticed he had taken a hold of when her body swayed. Against her better judgement she looked at his face, fearful of what she might find there. Though his expression remained calm, smooth, she could and edge of tension lining his brow and the set of his mouth. How could something she had hated from the moment she had first lain eyes on be the one thing bringing her comfort in that moment?    As if sensing her thoughts and the path they followed, his eyes now rove over her. There was no warmth, nothing but the eyes of a guardian even with the apprehension that he always reserved when in her presence.    Working her jaw to say something, anything, that would ease him and let him know she was okay, that she could do this, she found herself unable to do anything.    He smiled then. Bright, open, kind even.    She moved.    The cavernous space echoed with the sounds of her boots, her mind registering each beat of them in an eight count. Before she reached the figure, she clenched her hands into fists readying herself for a fight were it necessary.     Whether the creature was alive or not she could not tell. But she would make sure that at least they would get out of there unscathed even if they failed in their mission. They just needed to move past the creature and. . .    She raised her hooded head in a jerking motion. Milky white eyes stared into her own and she decided it was a good thing she prayed albeit begrudgingly before they had entered the towers because she was sure only the divine stopped her from screaming at the top of her lungs.    The creature's face was beautiful, safe for those lifeless eyes that she now noticed streaked with small black veins. Her thoughts swarmed, the sound that filled her ears like that of an angered beehive. Breathe, breath, breathe. . .            "You came," the creature's mouth didn't move but she knew deep inside of her and whatever carnal instinct she possessed that it was them. "It has been too long, too long. I waited, I waited for long, longer than the battles waged after the King fell or the hoards stormed the Gates of Theid. Hero, I waited for you and you've come, alas, alas,"    When a hand went over her mouth, only then did she noticed it wasn't the creature who had spoken but herself. Vaguely aware that she was now pressed against the chest of the fae man, she made an effort to not fall and heave. How the Hell. . .        "Now is not the time, seer. The Hero is in a hurry, she must move onwards still." his voice was not sweet but it lost an edge of danger that had once set her heart racing.        Hero, you brought a gift. A warrior, such a gift, such a pleasant gift, they all will be pleased, so pleased.        "We need to go," he hissed against her ear with enough bite that she finally dropped the eyes that no sooner would stop haunting her lonesome. "Now. Unless you wish to remain here and meet a much eerie end."    Without facing away, they walked under the archway, past the robed figure that trailed each of their movements as if that was all they were able to do, frozen in time, in a promise.    Once they were plunged into the darkness the tunnels offered, she could breathe a little easier, despite the damp scent of moisture clinging to the stone bricks laden in moss and mold. "What was that?" she hissed, seeming to regain her bearings enough to speak. Despite the tone she used, her hand had his in a vice grip. She wasn't scared but she would be a fool to not feel rattled to the marrow of her bones. Whatever the creature was it had spoken through her as though she were a mere puppet.        "An old creature bound to their duty and this place and one that was far more friendly than the ones that exist in our modern mortuaries." He bit through his teeth, the explanation a poor attempt to ease her nerves of whatever just happened.    The more they walked through the darkness the closer the sound of falling water came as well as the glowing white light at the end of the tunnel. That's when she puzzled his tone to the expression he wore. Jaw set, eyebrows forming an angry V as he stared straight ahead. His jaw clenched and unclenched and now it was her turn to notice that she had loosened her hand but that now it was the fae who held it, unwilling to let go.    It was a mystery that had answer, she was sure. But she wasn't quite sure how prepared she was to face it. A hero the creature had called her, claiming that she was something promised.   She knew she wasn't right, couldn't be. Heroes were brave and right now?   She bore no bravery, nor courage and knew it would be long until she could revisit that memory or the ones that haunted her for years without loosing her sense of reality.

[the-darklings]

──𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐢 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐞 [𝐕𝐈𝐈𝐈.]

summary: "All that's left is a ghost of you."

pairing: dream of the endless x f!reader

wc: 7.3k+

warnings: AngstTM, Dream is still Dream (absent) ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

notes: happy one-month birthday, tibyim. hope you all enjoy & prep the tissues : )))

part one | series masterlist | ao3 |

PART EIGHT: YEAR 916-994

“My lord. Sir?”

Morpheus permits his lids to flutter open, finding the same bone-deep exhaustion sitting on his chest and back. The multicoloured light that once washed over the pale stone in his throne room is duller and weaker now. More imperceptible. Ashen cloud has settled over his kingdom. All things around him seem to have inverted; even his own palace staff, his own creations. 

What does the Lord of Dreams dream about?

Nothing. Not anymore. 

“What is it, Lucienne?” he questions mildly, motionless on his throne. 

He does not look his librarian's way, for he’s well versed with what he will discover there. A plea, wishfulness, longing. To varying degrees, Morpheus can find those sentiments in every living thing in his realm. It’s as if he’s served an invisible artery he did not know of, and the breathing mass of the Dreaming is all too happy to remind him daily. 

As if he did this. As if he wanted this.

Lucienne straightens in his peripheral. “Sir, I’ve come to bring a rather urgent matter to your attention.”

He doesn’t move. “What’s wrong?”

There is a beat of hesitation. “It’s the Wanderer Island, sir. It’s… sick.”

His attention snaps to the librarian at the foot of his dais. 

“Sick?” he repeats softly.

“I believe it would be best if you saw for yourself.” Discomfort and sadness paint Lucienne’s face, her arms folded compact behind her back. Even after centuries, some habits are unfading. “If I may, perhaps, make a suggestion, my Lord. It might be beneficial to welcome Wanderer back—”

“Wanderer made the decision to withhold information from me, Lucienne, not I.” His low words slice through the throne room, and with them, the little light emitting from the windows behind his throne gets snuffed out. “It is she who has betrayed my trust and the trust of all those living here. Until Wanderer chooses candour, the gates of the Dreaming shall remain shut to her.”

Same conversation. His siblings were bad enough. Now the staff insists. Do they not understand? Falsity once is falsity always. Universe experiences turmoil. One of the Endless does not simply abandon their post. But for Wanderer to know of Destruction's whereabouts—his brother’s whereabouts—and to not share it with him, the one you always insisted you trust most, stings.

After what transpired with Desire, Morpheus foolishly lulled himself into believing you could be trusted. Perhaps, at long last, he has uncovered a confidant, a soul to share this burden with without concern. 

Do his subjects, his siblings, not understand? He did not banish for amusement, for pleasure; even now, on this day, he’s haunted. Traces of you are everywhere. In his kingdom, his creations, his siblings, and even the waking world. 

I think you’re lonely. 

As if he requires reminders. As if Hob Gadling’s words do not compel forth another voice, so familiar he could pick it out from a sea of billions, no matter what dark hole or galaxy it is thrown in:

Do you ever get lonely?

Lucienne lowers her head, but her words come out strong, insistent: “My Lord, respectfully, perhaps you are not truly appreciating the position Wanderer is in.”

Morpheus slants his head away, his lips compressing. “And what position may that be?”

“That of someone who owes loyalties to more than just you.” Lucienne is already gazing at him over her rounded glasses when Morpheus turns his attention to her. Despite their positions, Lucienne talks as if she’s the monarch sitting on a throne and relating wisdom. “Is it not you, yourself, who has expressed admiration in the past for how loyal Wanderer is towards your siblings? It does not take away from her loyalty towards you, my Lord. Perhaps, there is a good reason for this behaviour. I do not believe Wanderer would willingly withhold anything from you—”

“I have heard enough.”

Lucienne halts mid-word, her gaze lowering, but her shoulders remain straight and tightly locked. 

“I am simply proposing that it would be practical—”

Shadows curl around the throne, his fingers curling around the armrest slowly. “It is not your decision to make, Lucienne.” A dangerous, velvety whisper. “You may go.”

Her head droops. Disappointed. So he has existed long enough to disappoint them. So be it. 

“Yes, my Lord.”

.

Ice has enveloped Wanderer Island. Everywhere Morpheus looks, flaky white ice covers the terrain. Snow crunches beneath his boots as he treks slowly through the island, snowflakes floating through the air in shapeless spirals. Periwinkle skies have blackened to a dull, oppressive grey. Flowers have bowed their heads, shrinking inwards. Sour apple grass has shrivelled under severe frostbite. Branches droop low, weighted down by snow and…

“What happened to you?” he breathes. 

Underneath the physical matter, he seeks the life, the pulsing core he nestles in all his creations. It takes mere seconds to cup his incorporeal hands around the island’s pulsing heart. Once so bright, so teeming with life, now rests crushed inwards, fluttering weakly in his grasp. 

Morpheus leans his hand on the bark of a nearby tree, a faint breath slipping free. 

For months he’s refused to visit, refused to so much as consider the island. He'd hoped that if he casts it from his mind, he won't be reminded of you. That, as with all things, he can pry you away piece by wretched piece from his life. Throw each fragment aside and leave them in the past where you and him and together now belongs. 

Buried in the ash of ruin. 

Where is Wanderer? Comes the pleading, weak whisper in his mind. Where is Wanderer? Where is the one who gave me life? 

Morpheus breathes deeply. “I gave you life.”

You gave me a purpose, beloved Dream Lord, not life. You feel cold, my Dream. You feel as cold as Wanderer does. 

A serrated blade sinks deep into the soft tissue at the moniker—at the reminder of phantom warmth he’s done all to be rid of. What he won’t give to peel centuries away, so he is no longer burdened by the absence. For it stings, but he cannot hate a memory, only the implication it imparts on him. That there is no together. He’s lost it. 

“Tell me who did this to you,” he urges, his words frayed, exhausted.

The most joyous place in the Dreaming is withering. He holds the fluttering life tighter in his palms, protectively, tucking it close to him. His power blankets the island, but it’s useless—unlike others, unlike the Dreaming itself, Wanderer Island was merely shaped by him; its life force came from another source.

A source he's prohibited from passing through his gates.  

And if it’s not bad enough already, as if this hasn't demanded too much, taken too much, then comes a faint, fragile declaration: 

You did. 

And in another breath, equally as fragile: Lonely, so lost, so alone, hurting, you took too much, my Dream— 

His fingernails dig into the bark, even if his jaw remains tightly clenched. “I did not mean for this to happen. I wish…”

Do we matter, do we matter, do we—

“You do,” he exhales, so quietly it’s nearly lost. “More than you know. Let me help you.”

Beloved Dream Lord, King of Stars, are you here to destroy me? 

Morpheus rests his forehead lightly on the hoarfrost-covered surface. His breath warms and melts the ice, but it will be a momentary relief. “Never.”

But…

The island quivers so terribly that odd, hateful helplessness grasps him.

But…

But…

You already are. 

A rustle snaps Morpheus’ head to one side. Corinthian stands in the bleak, snowy treeline. Unmoving. The nightmare’s features remain blank while he observes him. Morpheus hasn’t seen much of his creation since your banishment. According to others, Corinthian hardly leaves the island unless it’s to fulfil his duty. Even occasional dreamers who still stray towards the island find their dreams swiftly souring into nightmares. 

Corinthian does not speak and does not move nearer. But in his silence, Morpheus senses the mute resentment, the eroding sense of acceptance for what or who he is. 

Morpheus will see and hear even less of his creation in the upcoming weeks and months. 

Until one day, Corinthian does not return at all. 

.

“Is there a light at the end of a tunnel?”

“No idea. Never seen it.”

Edward chuckles, a deep, rattling sound croaking through his wrecked lungs. “We must be children to you.”

Your fingers tighten around his weathered ones. The frail skin and bone does feel like dust beneath your hand, but you will not take this final peace from him. “You’re not, Edward. You’re human. You’re my own.”

Edward blinks his watery eyes towards the ceiling, his silver hair nearly blending in with his pillowcase. “It is strange. I feared I might… be afraid. But I am not.”

“Don’t be,” you reassure him kindly. “She’s kind.”

He glances at you. “She?”

Wings rustle behind you, tickling over your cheek and ear and lips. 

“Hello, Wanderer.”

Your heart bleeds at the kind, loving greeting. At once, you want to stand and run to her, embrace her and hold her close. Breathe her in and forget the distance between you, the difference you will never be able to bridge. 

“Is it time?” you ask instead, wooden in your articulation.

“I’m afraid so.”

Edward looks perplexed by your one-sided conversation. “Who are—oh. You. I see.”

He latches onto one lingering behind you, fear spasming his features. In the end, you’ve learned most are scared, small, and childlike. Hopeful but fearful of what awaits them on the other side. 

“Just a moment, please,” Edward pleads. 

Death is a benevolent voice and presence behind you. “Go right ahead.”

Edward’s fingers shake around yours, his grip weak despite his effort to hold your hand. “Wanderer. Do you think…”

There’s old man feebleness to him, but you choose to see your friend as he once was—strong, proud and brilliant. All those souls you’ve saved together, all the adventures you’ve shared in. A life unlived because you were not meant for him. 

“Yes, Edward.” You put your hand on his, settling him, soothing him. “In another life.”

Happiness shines in his bloodshot eyes, his lungs rattling with a quiet, relieved huff. He gazes at you until the end, until his eyelids slip shut and his hold on you weakens. 

Standing, you bend over him, pressing a tender kiss to his forehead, your eyes squeezed shut. “Goodbye, my dearest friend.”

“Yes, she is, isn’t she?” Death speaks suddenly. 

You cannot perceive Edward’s soul, cannot see the intricate nature of life the way Death or other Endless can, but you feel a warmth momentarily on your shoulder when you straighten. It’s followed by fluttering heat against your temple. There and gone. 

You push your way from the room just as mighty wings beat behind you, helping your friend pass to the Sunless Lands. 

Your foot is barely out the door when she locates you again. 

“Did you…”

Death’s face creases with unspoken sympathy. 

“Know that Edward loved me?” Your words grind out stringent, tightly leashed. Your dress is too constricting and suffocating. You want to rip it to shreds. Then your own skin off. “Yes. He always joked about courting me, buying me home, and marrying me despite the curse. I thought he meant it in jest. He was a flirt. Then, I was gone for a few decades. For me, it was nothing. For him, it was an entire lifetime. I came back to find him in his sixties, unmarried and alone. He wanted it to be me. The least I could do was stay with him in the end.”

Death’s features crease further, pained. “Wanderer…”

“Anyway,” you mutter dismissively, shrugging as you adjust your large skirt. “Edward had a brother and sister, so I imagine I’ll be dealing with Constantines for centuries to come.”

You set out on a steady trek from the mansion. You both love and hate Death for falling in step with you immediately. 

“How have you been?” she ventures. 

I haven’t slept in sixty-six years. 

You keep your attention directly ahead, mute. Sun beats down on you, sweat beading your brow. Your spine remains ramrod straight despite the discomfort. This is nothing in comparison to things you’ve been through. It’s nothing compared to the bubbling pain in your heart right now. “The usual.”

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Death says bluntly and your jaw flutters. “You’ve been avoiding all of us. It’s been decades.”

You have. Since your banishment, you’ve done everything possible to remove yourself from the other Endless. The physical toll of trying to cut yourself from them has been immense. You’ve grown accustomed to the curse, or at least you’ve managed to coexist with it to a point where things were almost normal. But now that you’re actively fighting against its will, it’s been set on making each punishment twice as excruciating. 

Only now, in Death’s overwhelming presence, it’s stopped its violent rampage through your body.  

“I simply got reminded where my place is, Death. I got too ahead of myself. I’m nothing more than a cursed mortal. You’re the Endless.”

Her retort is instantaneous. “Delirium misses you. She needs her friend.”

Your gait stutters, then steadies once more. You refuse to let the panging guilt worm its way through you. “She needs her older brothers, not some stranger.”

Death halts. You don’t. “A stranger? Unbelievable.” In a blink, she’s blocking your path. You stagger to a stop, scowling. “Is that what you believe you are to us? A stranger.”

She’s not letting you avoid her probing stare or hide from her question. 

Switching your attention over her shoulder, you respond stiffly, “I believe Desire once summed it up best: a glorified pet with an extended expiry date.”

Death frowns deeply, troubled, bending her head until your eyes meet. “Since when do you listen to what Desire says? Desire speaks only to get under your skin. To get a reaction.”

You say nothing, chewing on your inner cheek. Spring bloom is fresh in the air, bird song chipper and lively, the sky clearest you’ve seen in days. You can’t help but resent it. Edward just died, and with him, another piece of your life. 

“Wanderer.” You nearly fold at how gently Death calls your title. “He’s a fool. What Dream did—”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Her fingers curl lightly around your biceps. She’s regretful, but it doesn't fix the damage done. “Dream needs you. He hasn’t been the same since your banishment. He’s… he regrets it a great deal.”

“Then where is he?”

Birds seem to hush at your whip-sharp question. It burst from you with such keen desperation that you can’t help but shrug off her touch, hurt prickling your skin. 

“If he needs me so much and regrets it so badly, where is he?” Your demand shatters the peaceful spring afternoon. Your voice catches, centuries stripped back until, much like Edward before his passing, you’re left terrified and small. “You have no idea what he took from me. None.”

Death says nothing. There’s nothing she can say. If anyone can appreciate just how much you’ve lost, it would be her. Shaking off your emotions, you school yourself. This time you touch her arms, squeezing her forearms once.

“I will always love you. Always.” The light in her dims despite your steely affirmation. Your hold on her slips away. “But please don’t come here, making me feel like the guilty one. I’m done. Your family affairs are yours alone. I’m not getting involved anymore. Morpheus can’t see beyond his pride, which will be his undoing. I’m not going to be a part of it.”

You brush past her, but her subsequent words stop you dead in your tracks: “You need each other.”

It takes effort to swallow the painful lump lodged in your throat. Then do the same with the wad of tenderness you feel spluttering in your chest in concurrence. 

“I thought that once, too,” you whisper over your shoulder with a slight, broken smile. “Not anymore.”

You’re gone with a crack before she can say anything else. 

.

“You cannot hide out here forever.”

“I mean, I could,” you drawl tiredly. “Why? Are you kicking me out too?”

Despite the blatant humour, there’s vulnerability buried in your inquiry. Destruction exhales deeply, his broad shoulders rolling with the gesture. 

“Never. But my sister was right. Dream needs you.”

You scoff, your shoulders slumping. “Dream doesn’t need anyone, Destruction. That’s the point. If he wanted to fix this—fix us—he would at least try.”

But Dream hasn’t contacted you, or attempted to, in decades. For sixty-six years, you’ve hoped he’d change his mind, see it differently, endeavour to understand. But no. Dream is always in the right. He is too proud, too invulnerable to ponder the possibility of his shortcomings. 

He will not permit himself the humility needed for an apology. 

“He is not infallible,” Destruction reminds patiently, settling beside you. Next to his brawny figure, you’re no more than a tiny bird, seeking shelter behind a mighty mountain—just two outcasts sharing space. You wish Corinthian could be here with you. “He, too, makes mistakes. I only ask that you give him a chance when he does seek you out. Because he will.”

“Why would he?” you counter.

Destruction levels you with a stare you have a hard time deciphering. It’s old, weighted with a thousand secretive things, and oh so knowing. 

“Funny, I—”

You flinch, words dying on your tongue. Another stab from deep within spears through you, and you gasp, doubling over. Something in your pocket burns. 

You grasp for the item blindly, flinching at the searing heat rubbing across your skin. 

It’s the pebble. Dream’s pebble. It’s so hot you can’t hold it without moving it in your hand.

“What the hell?”

Destruction stands to his feet, focusing on something beyond the horizon with grave intensity. “Dream…”

“What’s happening?” you ask hastily, noting the uncharacteristically solemn expression Destruction wears. “Why do I feel…”

“Something is wrong.” Fire has ignited in Destruction’s usually gentle amber gaze. “Go, go to him. Now, Wanderer.”

.

Something is wrong. Truly wrong. You sense it long before you snap into the Dreaming, sucking in a desperate lungful of the heated, sweet air. Your home. After what felt like an eternity. 

But…

The Dreaming is a location of unparalleled security. Dream had painstakingly pieced together this realm himself and ensured its inhabitants were safe here. Entering this place provides resistance. It always has, even to you, like pushing through an invisible wall. For others, the Dreaming is locked behind an endless maze and formidable Gates of Horn and Ivory. No one enters without Dream Lord’s blessing and decree. 

No such resistance met you this time. Stepping into the Dreaming had been more straightforward than going from one city to another, simpler than crossing oceans. 

Dread coils your stomach. 

You had hoped to simply hop in, check everything is fine, and leave before Dream senses you. Before his wrath can divert your way for your noncompliance. But everything is wrong. Nothing has changed, but somehow everything has. 

You set out for the castle immediately. 

“Lucienne!”

You spot the librarian in the distance, hurriedly crossing towards the commotion by the castle—

What is going on?

“Wanderer.” Utter shock slacks her features for a breath. “You have returned.”

She doesn't appear pleased to see you. This is the most undone, most concerned you’ve ever witnessed her. The pebble in your tight knuckle hold is icy to the touch. The roar inside your head, so alike to the one you felt centuries ago when Destruction first abdicated his position, is but a muted storm.

“I’m sorry,” you say hurriedly. “I know I’m not allowed to be here, but something felt off. I can’t explain it. I just… what is it? What’s wrong?”

Why does she look so awfully lost, so disturbingly unprepared? But then Lucienne speaks, her voice trembling ever so slightly, and the world as you know it ends:

“He’s gone. Lord Morpheus is gone.”

.

“Please, remain calm. We are working on getting more information.”

The crowd stirs. 

“He abandoned us!”

“Did he leave us?”

Standing in the corner, you listened to the fearful outcries from the Dreaming residents. Lucienne's attempts to appease them have not been as effective as you’d hoped. You do not blame them. After Destruction’s exit, many realms had started fearing the same would happen to them. What happens when your creator grows weary of their duties and decides to depart, abandoning you in the process? 

“He is no different than his brother! The Endless do not care for their realms.”

Your frown deepens. 

“Dream would never leave you.” Silence shrouds the crowds, and you realise you’ve spoken aloud too late. Their searching, fearful gazes seek you out; several murmurs of wanderer/wanderer has returned/wanderer is here filtering through the air. You soften your features. “He is many things, but have some faith in him.”

“You would defend him?” At the front of the crowd, you discover Gault. Her gaze is unwavering, sober. “Even after he banished you?”

They’re so quiet the breeze blowing through the castle’s structure is audible. 

“What happened between him and I is one matter, but he loves the Dreaming.” Your gaze sweeps over the crowd, your words gentle but passionate. They’re just afraid and lost, you remind yourself. So many you’ve known since their first sound, their first breath. “He loves all of you. You should never forget that. If Dream is gone, it’s by no choice of his own.”

And that terrifies you so much more. 

.

“Where is Corinthian?”

The evening had descended upon the Dreaming. Finally, away from the crowd, it’s the first question you ask—demand—because you hadn’t seen him anywhere. 

Merv cringes, then scoffs. “Oh boy.”

Lucienne, despite her haggard demeanour, readjusts herself. Her head lowers, and instantly you brace for something awful. Because you know—it’s written in every inch of Lucienne’s pinched yet sympathetic expression. 

“He went rogue, Wanderer.”

No. Horror solidifies inside your chest, crushing your heart in a fist. Not him. No. 

Take me with you. To the hell with them. You and me.

You and me. 

Lucienne continues, each word more crushing than the last, “After your banishment, Corinthian became… darker. Even more uncontrollable. He resented Lord Morpheus for what he did to you. He secluded himself on Wanderer Island. Soon his presence at the Dreaming became more and more infrequent. Sir left to fetch Corinthian from the waking world when he disappeared.”

The first wounding thought comes: did he leave to find me, knowing what Dream would do to him for his insubordination? The second is no less devastating: did he go because he had nothing to lose or believed I’d abandoned him?

Never. You never would. Not a day had passed when you hadn’t thought about him or missed him terribly. 

“The waking world,” you croak out because it’s the only tidbit you can latch onto lest you go mad. “I should go. Maybe I can locate him. Both of them.”

Merv shoots his arm out, stopping you. “That’s not a great idea, kid.”

“Why?”

Lucienne sighs, conflicted. “Because it is clear that the Dreaming residents fear they might have been abandoned. Your presence here is giving them hope. Much needed stability.”

Fine. Yes, that makes sense. For them, you will stay. To keep them safe until Dream returns. But…

“Then we should call on the other Endless. If Dream is in trouble—”

Merv shakes his head, a grimace twisting his face. “Kid, be real for a moment. Do you see big brother and his dusty book approving interference?”

No. Destiny would likely prohibit it altogether. Ancient Laws would mandate events unfold as they are written to unfold. If not, the horrors any intercession would unleash would be much worse. Dream would not seek aid from his siblings no matter how wounded or…

It hurts too much even to consider what might have occurred. For one as powerful as him to be made indisposed…

“There is still Jessamy.” Lucienne’s voice cuts clear and calm through your panicked, frayed mind and your glassy stare snaps in her direction. “We might be able to use her to find where Lord Morpheus is.” 

Sucking in a steadying breath, you jolt your shoulders upwards, raise your chin, and quieten your mind. “Then what are we waiting for?”

.

“Wherever he is, Lord Morpheus’ power is completely cut off.”

“Wards.”

Lucienne blinks at your prompt inference. Arms folded around yourself, you stalk back and forth across the library. Merv watches you cautiously. 

“Wards?” Lucienne prompts.

“If we’re assuming he was tracking down Cori..nthian to the waking word, then he might have encountered magical prowess.” You mentally curse yourself for stumbling over Corinthian’s name. For months you’ve waited for his return. Surely he’s felt it, if not, then heard about Dream’s disappearance. “But someone who can capture an Endless and place wards to keep him there? This doesn't make any sense. Unless…”

The librarian waits patiently. “Unless?”

Unless they had help. Mortals should not have such power, let alone such acute expertness. 

“Nothing. I’ll go.”

“You cannot,” Lucienne argues. 

For months you’ve been trying to keep the Dreaming under control together. The three of you had done your best, but the cracks are beginning to show. Desperation is setting in, and unless you do something, things will crumble here. 

“I’ll track down Jessamy,” you explain, having already given this due thought. You’ve been up for days, coming up with plan after plan. The Dreaming was once the only place where you could sleep, but that is no longer true. Its power is starting to ebb with Dream’s absence. “I’ll search until I find her. She can take me to Dream.”

“And if there are wards around this building? Does that not mean you cannot enter without permission also?”

You stare at her for a moment, then smile. For the first time in centuries, something like unease ghosts over Lucienne’s features. 

“I’ll burn down the goddamn building if I have to. I don’t care.”

.

“No,” you hiss, blood coating your hands, oozing quicker, harder. “I do not obey you. You obey me. I’m done letting you control me.”

The curse trashes inside your chest, ripping, ripping, and ripping.

“I’m staying,” you gasp, choking down acidic bile. “I’m staying until I find them. You won’t make me leave. You won’t.”

You don’t remember passing out, only waking up in jail with sneering faces glaring down at you. 

Then the gunshot. 

.

You seek but to no avail. The world that was once so tiny has become impossibly large. No matter how hard you search for Jessamy, Dream, or Corinthian, you can’t locate them anywhere. 

In the end, it doesn’t matter. 

Jessamy gets killed two years into your search. 

.

“Where did they go?”

Your hollow words scrape against the vacant halls of the castle. You can’t see Lucienne behind you while you gaze up at Dream’s desolate throne, but her quiet devastation is apparent. 

“They left.”

A sound rasps from your chest. “Left?”

“Some went after you to search. Others…”

It’s straightforward enough; to draw your conclusions why you returned to a realm half devoid. Emptier, colder, and more lifeless than you’ve ever glimpsed it. The Dreaming is rotting—your home is eroding, and there’s nothing you can do. 

Your home.

Your fingers curl. “They deserted?”

Lucienne’s faint sigh doesn’t soothe the anger sparking in your heart. “It’s been years. The Dreaming… is starting to fade.”

As if you can’t tell as much yourself. As if houses haven’t started crumbling, as if the sun barely shines anymore. As if all things once so green and beautiful are now no more than a gutted carcass, barely clinging to life. 

“Stop. We’ll find him,” you insist. 

“But—”

Your head angles towards the librarian, now so much more than that—a leader in the absence of the realm’s true ruler. “There is no but, Lucienne. We’ll find him. Dream will come back.”

You have time. You’ll find him. Dream still lives because the universe would reverberate with the loss if he were gone. All he’s created would be sand once more. Wherever he is, whatever is being done to him, he still lives. 

You’re not sure what Lucienne spots on your face, but it wipes traces of doubt from her face, her resolve restored. “Yes, he will.”

.

The crossroads are dark and barren—wind whistles through bare branches in an ominous, spine-chilling wail. No clock is necessary for you to tell the time. 

3.33am. 

Thunder cracks so loudly through the frosty night air that your knees shake where you stand. Light dances over three silhouettes clustered close together. 

You bow to your waist, and pretend you’re not frightened out of your mind. 

“Great Ladies.”

Kindly Ones let you rest in your low bow for an entire minute. 

“Well, well, look who came crawling back for help.”

The Crone’s robes trail over the ground by your feet. Your throat wobbles, sweat cooling against your nape. 

“Hush, sister-self,” coos the Maiden, her words sweet and light. She cups your chin, raising your face until you’re standing upright. “Wanderer, we did warn you not to seek us again. No matter how elaborate your offerings.”

Her stare slides towards the bag at your feet. The Crone snatches it with a tetchy sound. Your bandaged hand throbs, blood still clotting beneath the hastily wrapped cloth. 

“Look at you, poor dear.” The Mother grasps your cheeks. “You are worn to the bone, love.”

“Of course she is,” the Crone snaps, examining your presents with a deep-set scowl. “This one wanders and wanders until her feet bleed and her shoulders shake. Drop dead and get back up. Is it eternity sweet?”

Your tongue is ash and embers in your mouth.

Another thunder crack, and the Fates stand in a line before you. “Why do you call upon us?” the Maiden asks. 

Your eyes lower respectfully. “I require your assistance, my fair ladies.”

“Sweet tongue. Poisonous tongue.” the Crone drones. “You’ve certainly changed your tune. Where did your mortal arrogance go? Have the ages worn it off?”

“I suppose, my lady, yes, they have. You told me the curse would teach me much.”

The Maiden circles you, her sheer skirt trailing over the muddy, half frozen ground. No dirt sticks to the fabric. “Has it not Wanderer?” You’re unsure how to take her curiosity, so you say nothing. “Did you not get what you asked for? To wander forever, to be free. So no chain, no roots may hold you down. So you may not rot in the dirt but float through starlight? You’ve been given a gift no other mortal has ever received.”

That would be hilarious if you didn’t want to scream until your throat was bloody. 

“Not like this, my Lady. This isn’t fair.”

The Crone cackles. “Ha! She speaks of fairness. You reap what you sow, child.”

The Mother purses her lips, beckoning with encouragement. “Come, dear, speak your piece. For your fair offerings, we shall hear you but promise no more than that.”

Swallowing shakily, you keep your voice level, determined, “I would humbly beg you, fair Ladies, for your help in seeking out Dream of the Endless. I aim to find Lord Morpheus and free him.”

The stormy wind picks up, blowing frigid and harsh. Your clothes rustle, doing little to keep the chill out. 

“Why should we care for the Dream Lord’s plight?” the Crone challenges. Her hawk-like stare nails you in the spot, daring and domineering. “He cared not for ours. His actions are his own.”

You grapple for breath. “Surely the mortal world suffers in his absence, my Lady? Surely you don’t wish that.”

The Mother sighs sympathetically. “Mortals are born and destroyed all the time, dear. Dust to dust. We do not alter destiny. We do not take away free will. Morpheus made his choices. He makes his choice every day.”

They’re slipping from you. You can see it clearly. Hopelessness drives you several paces towards them. 

“No. There has to be a way—”

“There it is. That brass.” Your feet turn to lead at the Crone’s harsh exclamation. “The belief you are owed. That rules do not apply to you because you disagree with them. This is what got you cursed in the first place.”

“I won’t know, my lady, I don't remember.”

Old, blistering power bites at your senses, curving your spine in a warning. Courteous words, yes, but their sarcasm is discernible for beings as old as the Three. 

“Go, Wanderer.” The Maiden almost sounds compassionate. Almost. If it were not for the wickedness slithering beneath that beauty. “There is nothing for you here.”

“Please.” You abandon any notion of pride, sinking to one knee, freezing dirt presses into your body. “I’ll give you anything. Just help him.”

The wind blows in great, bellowing gusts around you, whipping your clothes around your body. The Maiden lowers herself closer, curiosity glowing brightly. 

“Do you love him?” she ponders. “Do you love him enough to give yourself away?”

Do you love Dream?

He might have banished you and been in the wrong, but your anger will never surpass your devotion to him. He’s everything to you—beginning and end. Without him, everything in your life is wilting. 

“I pity you, Wanderer.” In a thunderclap, the Maiden stands at a distance, but her words carry on the wind. “You are doomed in loving one such as him. For he will never see beyond his own pride.”

Shaking your head, you knot your fingers together. “He doesn’t have to choose me. I just… I want him to be free. The Dreaming needs him. The waking world needs him.”

I need him.

The Crone peers down at you pitilessly, all but deploring. “Foolish child. Even if you could, there is nothing left for you to give. You are but hollow bones and sheer, misplaced hope. Forget it. Your Dream Lord is lost to you.”

And then you’re alone. 

.

The throne room has started caving in. 

Dents in the stone, dust on the ground. The stunning glass-stained windows have cracked. At least they haven’t shattered yet. Despair scorches through you with such uncontrolled fury your body shakes. 

This is punishment—true punishment. 

Dream is gone, with him, all you hold dear. 

Blindly, overcome with some otherworldly fury, you march for the staircase leading to the castle's upper levels—past endless doors and nooks towards your destination. You throw open a door you had learned centuries ago leads to Dream’s private chambers. Dust and darkness greet you. His room lays undisturbed. Agonisingly perfect. As if he had stepped away for a day and not decades. Years spent trying to uncover his whereabouts, bleeding and shredding yourself and for nothing. He’s gone, and he’s unlikely to return. No matter who you go to or how boldly you toe the destiny line, nothing. 

Marching towards his wardrobe, you yank the door open, panting for breath. 

“Where are you?” you snarl, potent emotion strangling you. “I’m in your room! I’m touching your things! I’m banished, but I’m here. Doesn’t that just make you furious?”

Nothing. Lonesome silence bears your fury, placating it, and you rip his dark coat out, balling the material in your hands. No magic lingers in its hems or stitches anymore, no stars or golden flames. Without Dream, it’s just a coat. No different than any other in the waking world. 

You press your face to it, smothering a sob. “Where are you? All that’s left is a ghost of you, Dream.”

Gasping, you pull it closer to your body, stalking back through the silent corridors, each step shredding this awful stillness. There’s no one in the throne room. There’s barely anyone left in the Dreaming. 

Your teeth clenched, you march up the winding staircase you’ve never walked upon until now. Reaching the top is a forlorn affair. Dream’s vacant throne openly mocks you, jeering a reminder he’s no longer with you. 

You drop onto his throne unceremoniously, draping his coat over your lap. “I’m sitting on your throne, Lord Morpheus! Are you not going to appear and punish me for my insolence?”

Nothing. 

The pebble in your hand has formed a near-permanent dent in your palm. Your lips wobble. You bite on them to keep still, bringing the pebble to your mouth. 

Over nine hundred years. Not once had you evoked Dream’s name. Never dared to. After Dream vanished, you didn’t dare out of fear. What if he doesn't answer? Could you bear the sheer agony it would bring you? 

But there’s nothing else left. You’ve tried everything. You’ve given and bled and…

You unfold your fingers gingerly, gazing at the clear, tear-shaped stone. Up here, on Dream’s throne, you cup it in your hand, holding it close to your heart: your fragile hope, dearest wish, and sole dream. 

“I call upon Dream of the Endless. Answer my call, Dream Lord, for you are sworn.”

You hold your breath. 

Minutes crawl by. Nothing. 

“I call upon Dream of the Endless. Answer my call, Dream Lord, for you are sworn.”

Nothing. 

“You are sworn.”

The last word is a half scream, tearing through your vocal cords. 

Nothing. 

“Dream.” Your voice splinters, barely audible. Pain oozes from each weak breath, stranging your words. “Dream? Please. You promised me. I can’t do this anymore. I… I can’t. Don’t leave me here alone.”

Nothing moves. No one answers.  

You slump on the throne, curling on yourself. His coat holds no scent if it ever did hold one—it’s been too long—but you pull it closer regardless. It’s so large it envelopes you. Murky blueish-purple light filters through cracked glass-stained windows. 

It’s so quiet. You’re too exhausted to cry, too exhausted to move—there’s nothing left. And then you realise something. It’s not contemptuous silence set on hurting you that encircles you. It’s a mournful, bruised silence. As if all the stars, all the unanswered, adrift dreams and galaxies, far and wide, are mourning the loss of the Dream Lord. 

You bury your face in the black, scratchy material. Your lids slip shut, but there are no dreams. 

.

The following morning you head for the House of Secrets. 

“Can you tailor it?”

Abel’s bug-eyed stare suggests he knows who this coat belongs to. 

“I—uh—Wanderer is this…” His nervous smile shrinks sadly, his hands fidgeting. He forcefully brightens, grinning toothly. “Yes. Of course. I will do my very best.”

That much you don’t doubt. 

.

No one contests your new attire. No one asks why. The few who still linger despite all hope lost understand why. You’ve all developed your own individual methods of coping. 

The coat has been altered to fit your shape, but the collar pops as it did for Dream. It rests heavy and secure around your shoulders as it did his. It makes you remember what it felt like to have a home. Just as he did. 

And concealed deep in the midnight material of once magical coat lives a small, cold-to-the-touch pebble and a battered figurine depicting a grinning nightmare. 

.

“The…” 

The slight, emotional hitch in Lucienne’s voice informs you what has been lost today. 

“The library… is gone.”

What could you possibly say to alleviate the despair etched onto her face? There are no words. So instead, you seize Lucienne’s hand in your own. You sit slouched together on the floor, holding hands, and you pretend you don’t feel her trembling. Just as she does the same for you. 

.

“Well this place has certainly seen better days.”

Your hands curl in your coat pockets, but you don’t turn. Prowling steps saunter down the pier, heading in your direction. You’ve been coming here every day for almost ninety years at sunset. Waiting. But your Dream never shows up. 

“Why are you here, Desire?”

You sound exhausted.

“My, my, that’s no way to greet your old friend, sweet thing. It’s been so long.”

You haven’t seen any of the Endless for decades. There’s been nothing else on your mind other than getting Dream back, and when they confirmed the Ancient Laws stand—that no, they cannot help you unless Dream calls for aid himself, you had nothing more to say. 

On the horizon, the sun barely floats in the sky, thin and hazy. 

“Dear me, why are you wearing that ghastly thing?” There’s a sharp tug on the lapel, but you don’t react, glowering silently. “Fine. This place has no protection anymore. Anyone could wander in whenever they please.”

Perhaps Desire implies it as a threat, but frankly, you could care less. 

“Are you happy?” you pose abruptly. “Does it make you happy to see the Dreaming in ruins? Dream gone? It affects your domain too.”

Desire laughs; a soft, sultry sound. Cashmere and wanton kisses trailing down on your cheek. 

“I’m old, Wanderer. Time is nothing for one such as I.” Desire raises their hand to examine their no doubt lacquered nails, but it’s no longer what you perceive when you gaze at Desire. “It will do dear Dream some good. What happened to you?”

Their tone sharpens, no doubt taking stock of your appearance. Your hunched, faded form, held together by a midnight coat and human hope. 

“What price are you paying to stay here, my dear? It’s destroying you.” Desire hums, fingers trailing up your arm. Hurt whorls inside your ribcage, finding no way out. You’ve forgotten what it’s like; to be touched, not hurt. “Even if Dream does return, do you imagine he will thank you for this? A guardian to a broken realm. Don’t make me laugh.”

Your grim, wary smile hurts. “You don’t get it. It’s not about gratitude, Desire. It’s about…”

Your words are devoured by the sun slipping behind the unmoving, inky water.

“Love.”

Desire curls the word like a lush, loving expletive. “Oh, Wanderer, you disappoint me. From all of us… him. So that’s why you hadn’t looked my way in centuries.” Fingers grasp your chin, guiding your face towards them. Except there’s only a faint golden sheen to indicate this is not truly Dream holding you. It’s so cruel how true Desire’s reflection is. How Desire is your Dream Lord down to last detail right now, except you could recognise Dream anywhere. “How long have I been wearing his face? Your deepest desire.” 

You jerk from their grasp. Desire may appear as Dream, but the veiled cruelty is all them. 

“You may go now.”

Desire smirks, devious and deadly, brushing aside invisible lint. Then they’re gone. 

You bite your tongue to stop yourself from calling after them. 

The blood tastes sweet. 

.

Wanderer Island is the last to go. 

It was inevitable, of course. You’ve had time to prepare. The Dreaming had been crumbling for decades, the decay getting more severe with each passing year.

Still, you held onto hope. Foolishly you tried to adapt your curse logic to it. Nothing could touch it if you just stay away and make no mention of it. Perhaps the frenzied, wild need to see it safe would keep it afloat in the end, keep it secure.  

It doesn’t. 

One evening, you stand alone on the pier, watching it break into the blackened waters below. 

It’s delicate. Tranquil. It breaks apart without a sound as if it doesn’t want to inconvenience anyone with its pain. 

No more wildflower fields where you would lay with your head on Corinthian’s stomach gazing at stars. No more long treks with your arms brushing with Dream’s while birds sang and butterflies danced around you. No more home for wandering souls or a friend to greet you on the golden shores.  

“Where you go, misery will follow. Where you go, horrors will befall those around you. You will have no home. You will know no peace. Eternity will be your damnation.”

Eternity. 

There’s no memory of ending up on your knees, but tears come in a silent torrent. 

For the first time in a century, you sob until your chest hurts. 

Eternity yawns, infinite and desolate, around you. This time, there is no one here to catch you. 

an: it'll get better. promise.