#other than the drawing that made me cry and ''without death i would not have lived the life i have''

[aromanticasterisms]

okay. okay.

[sunny374940]

I will be waiting with open arms

Do you remember when I said I made myself sad with a story about Emmrich dying? Guess what I've finished? I made myself cry and now I am making this fic everyone's problem.

Emmrich dies at the age of ninety seven and Rook, who is seventy two now, receives one last letter from his love.

Cw: major character death (offscreen, not described)

Hello, @mercars-musings I am here to deal emotional damage

(Next up is Pining 2.0 Emmrich's POV, starring Davrin and Assan as wingmen, because I need the sad to go away)

Here on ao3

Edit: here is part 2

And here are my other stories

There was a knock on the door and Rook dragged himself out of his armchair with a sigh. The chair next to his own was glaringly empty and he felt his eyes sting with more tears, so he wiped them away and went to see just who had decided to bother him right after the funeral.

“GREETINGS, ROOK,” Vorgoth said as the door opened.

“Hi, Vorgoth. Is everything alright?”

They’d met at the service, so why would he come to visit him at home?

“THIS IS FOR YOU.”

Vorgoth was handing him an envelope and the neat handwriting on it was unmistakably Emmrich’s. Rook stared at it, at a loss for words, and when he looked up, Vorgoth was gone. There was a single word on the envelope - Rook. He opened it and took out the letter, noticing that the paper was crinkled in a few places, letters smudged as if waterstained. His legs were suddenly very weak and he felt that he should sit back down before he read it, so he settled back into the armchair.

9th of Parvulis, 9:94 Dragon

My darling Rook,

I have entrusted this letter into Vorgoth’s care, to be delivered to you after my funeral. I hope you can forgive an old man's wish to have one last goodbye.

I can feel the span of my days drawing to a close at last. I have lived a long life, longer than most, and even though a better half of it was spent waiting for you to come into it, I wouldn’t exchange the time we had together for anything.

I have made peace with my demise, as should you, my dear. I'm sure you are frowning right now, disagreeing with me, but it is true. Those fears that plagued me are long buried in the past, overshadowed by the joy of having lived my life to the fullest. With you. For what would eternity be without you there? Death seems a small price to pay for what you've given me.

As I look out the window at the yellowing leaves of our cherry tree, I find myself thinking back to the day you married me. You looked so beautiful with the flowers in your hair and I was the happiest man in the world. As I am even now. I am honored beyond words that you chose to take me as your husband and stay with me for all those years, even as I grew old (I can see you bristling at the word, but ninety seven years is hardly young, by my count).

I’d never expected such happiness to find its way to me, yet here I am, blessed with a family that has grown so much since the time it was just the two of us and Manfred. First little Elanora, and what a wonderful woman she has grown into!

And I still cannot believe that I got to have not just children, but a grandchild as well. Rupert (do you remember how I cried, when Ellie chose the name?) has grown so much. It feels impossible that he is already fifteen and well on his way to becoming a man. I am actually waiting for him to come visit as I write this and I hope to hide away the tears before the boy arrives. I don't need to ask you to take care of them, for I know you will.

I love you, Rook. I love you, I love you, I love you. I have told you every day and yet it doesn't feel like enough.

Please, do not spend too long mourning me. Live out your days, take joy in our family and know that you were the brightest light of my life.

Goodbye, darling, may we meet again in the afterlife. I will be waiting for you with open arms. And do visit the Memorial Gardens in the meantime, I will be there in spirit.

Forever yours,

Emmrich

Rook's hands were shaking, making the paper flutter in his grip. The tears started falling, landing on the letter and he quickly set it down on the side table, terrified of destroying Emmrich’s last words to him.

He was crying, ugly heaving sobs were tearing their way out of him and he couldn't stop himself. He buried his face in his hands. He hadn't cried like this at the funeral, couldn't allow himself to, but now the weight of it all was coming down on him. After what felt like hours the tears dried up and he was staring numbly ahead. Distantly, he heard footsteps coming closer.

“Dad?”

Ellie's hand was on his back, the gesture so similar to how Emmrich used to touch him that he choked back another sob.

“Hi, bug,” he whispered, and this once she didn't reprimand him for using her childhood nickname.

There were tears streaming down her face as well and he opened his arms for her. She climbed into his lap, draping her arms around his neck and he was young again and she was five years old, crying over a skinned knee. But this time the wound ran deeper and they held each other through the tears.

“I miss him so much,” she sobbed against his shoulder. “It felt like he would be here forever and now he's gone. I hate it!”

“I know, El. I hate it too,” he said, stroking her back in soothing circles, much like he had seen Emmrich do so many times before and why did everything have to remind him of Emmrich when he was gone!

But weren't the memories just the thing? He knew that Emmrich would say that they should take comfort in the memories they had of him, of the life they shared, instead of mourning what they could no longer have. He sighed and even Ellie's sobs were finally quieting down.

“Hey, bug?”

“Yeah?”

“Wanna come with me to the Memorial Gardens? I could tell you again about how me and you daddy met.”

“I'd love that, dad.”

She smiled at him and the world slowly began setting itself right again.

[x-blue-spring-x]

Omg i dreamt that a random being came to me at night when I was in bed and started fooling around with my body. I kept my eyes closed because I was scared, but he was pretty good at it so I got horny and into it.

He started fucking me slowly but deep, with a long, smooth not too thick cock, and it was goooood. I started groping his body, because duh, and it kept changing between forms- from a super buff guy to something less human and more gelatinous??

Then he switched from my pussy to my ass, and to help the transition, some kind of soft and wet protrusion was rubbing my clit a lot like a tongue would, then he stayed in his buff form to fuck me like that. Omg it was amazing. He also asked me to look at him. Since he was staying in his muscley man mood, i looked and wasn’t quite sure what i was looking at, other than a buff dusty dark purple skinned monster. Whatever counted as a mouth came down and latched to my right nipple, sending me into overwhelming pleasure that i was simultaneously trying to escape and have more of.

I only wish i was able to stay in the dream longer to come. Alas, I woke up before that could happen. In any case, i kinda like to think thats how fucking a gentle sukuna would be like, except sukuna would have a thick monster cock obviously, and probably two of them.

Oh i just remembered! I was begging the monster to change his form to have two cocks! Imagine that, a cock for each hole, sukunas tummy tongue to play with your clit and grind on, and him trying to suck your soul out of your tit.

For some reason i felt like i had to share this with you.

I am so glad you shared this with me my bby! My first JJK ask I could cry!!

Here’s some very gentle Sukuna for you ❤️

He doesn’t come to you often, the king of curses, yet most nights you find yourself waiting for him.

Not a soul knows about your strange guest. Every shared breath is trapped between you and him in a silent lovers promise. The people in your village would be frightened, and admittedly you thought it was a sign of an impending apocalypse when you first saw him, stood at the end of your sleeping pad. Impossibly tall, four arms muscle bound and ringed with the blackest ink, his red eyes had gazed at you through the velvet darkness, seeking and searching for something unknown.

He smelt of death wrapped in a smile, cinders and ashes against the heaviest amber. Intoxicating, it made your head swim, all thoughts muddied and confused like the banks of a river after heavy rains. Perhaps that was part of his strange charm, the heady drunkenness you feel in his presence, enough arrogance to drown in and a wide mouth that curls across pointed, sharp teeth.

Still, the power he holds over you, over the lands your people farm daily, is enough to encourage you to spread your thighs for him. To give the monster softness, somewhere gentle to rest for a few hours before he disappears into the mists again. You would be lying if you said it was just that through. He’s insatiable, hungry and brimming with furious need, but beyond that there’s a curious softness displayed only to you and no other. For you are chosen, special above all humans. Marked in a way that leaves no room for argument.

Dreamlike, the low moon paints everything in a blue cast, cool and dappled through the thin walls of your room. The nights are drawing in, a chill settling over the forests and mountains surrounding the small place you know as home. Your breath is steady, a little tug of the sheets to cover your shoulder. Then you hear it, the creak of the wood under his heavy feet, a scent of smoke clinging to the midnight air.

Sitting up, you’re confronted by the full breadth of him, chest rising and falling rapidly with the promise of what’s to come. He tilts his head, cat like. Those duplicate crimson eyes blinking lazily at you, dark lashes fanned under them.

Quietly you shrink from under the soft cotton, inviting him closer without needing to speak. His nose twitches as he inhales, a smile curving across his broad mouth until his sharp teeth snare his bottom lip.

“So eager. Did you miss me?” Voice a low rumble, thunder purring beneath the surface of it, Sukuna regards you. There’s something burning in his face, a hunger that he’s never able to satisfy when it comes to you, so pliant and weak in his wide palms and under the bite of his canines.

Your response is a nod, shy and timid as it’s been months since you last welcomed him into your bed. The jet coloured markings across his body seem to grow darker, framing a jawline cut like glass. He lets out a low purr, padding towards your mattress while his stare narrows, taking in the flesh ripe for him, your body the only altar that’s ever seen a being like Sukuna sink to his knees. Your mouth meets his, hot and heavy, never the gentle soft kisses you expect from a moonlit visitor. His tongue flicks against yours almost at once, so greedy, wholly devoid of propriety or valour.

Sukuna pins your body beneath his vast one, lower arms making short work of your night clothes as he dominates your lips, sucking until they tingle and bruise under him. His upper hands find purchase in your hair, tugging your face closer still roughly, winding against your scalp until you let out a whine of protest.

When your eyes flutter open he’s watching you, both pairs zeroed in on your expression, as his broad lower palms grip the meat of your hips.

“Don’t be rough.” You whisper. It’s a strange feeling, understanding that no other could ever demand a thing from him without receiving instant death in result. He’s still holding your locks tightly, forcing your throat close to his grinning mouth. Sukuna doesn’t look angry, instead he seems faintly surprised, probably because the nature of your relationship has been mainly carnal as opposed to intellectual.

“I know no other way.”

His voice is husky, strained even. So carefully you run your own fingers across shoulders bound by ridged strength. He purrs again, this time lower and far more gentle.

You jump slightly as a droplet of saliva hits your stomach, threading its way along the skin of your navel. The mouth on his torso matches his grin, the huge tongue lolling and seeking out the hot scent of your tight cunt. Wantonly you angle your hips up to meet it, allowing it purchase on your mound until the wetness trickles lower and you whimper at the feeling.

Sukuna lets out a noise of fierce approval, rearing up to slot your pussy against his torso, watching the way his tongue immediately dives into the heat of your core, the thick muscle lathing unforgiving strokes along your seams.

“Fuck!” He exhales, lowered eyes closing briefly with ecstasy, pale pink hair bleached white in the low light. “My little human whore did miss me then.”

Always darkly possessive, Sukuna’s thick fingers bite harshly into your thighs, spreading you wide as his lower mouth traces circles on your clit. Gasping, you grip his forearms, feeling the tendons bunch and release beneath his skin. Lights start to pop under your eyes, knees shaking so violently it makes him laugh. A vicious chuckle without any shred of sympathy. Without warning his upper set of hands find your throat, tugging you upwards and into the safe embrace of his lower limbs. You moan at that, wrenched away from the pulse of his broad tongue, the spit mixing with your slick is so viscous it drenches the mat beneath you.

Sukuna lets a tsk out at your moans. Clicking his teeth as you struggle to collect yourself, so close and yet so far from the sweet release you’ve craved.

“On my cocks, or not at all.” Face to face his whirling stare glimmers, lids heavy with the need to sink inside you.

He spits onto one palm, wrapping an arm around you and probing your tight, puckered hole. Massaging and rubbing until he can slip one thick finger in and then two. Vaguely you realise he’s showing kindness in his own way, lessening the intensity of having to take one of his shafts without any preparation.

You can feel them, heavy and dripping with creamy pre-spend as they rest between your legs. Sukuna draws you up closer to him, binding your arms tight to your sides and sliding his cocks between your thighs, coating himself in wetness until a rasping groan leaves the back of his throat.

“So fucking drenched.” Briefly his tattooed forehead rests against yours, like he’s struggling to master himself. Then with no warning, he’s breaching your body, cocks probing and parting your sticky flesh until you almost feel them in your throat. It’s almost too much, you’re so full of him, his scent clinging to your skin and filling your nose like incense. You push backwards against his chest, asking for patience, for some distraction from the burning stretch of him.

“Shhh.” His mouth finds the shell of your ear, warm air making you shiver as he opens you up for himself. That vast mouth on his stomach finds your clit again and you keen, sympathetically rolling your hips as you seek the right amount of pressure to bring yourself down from the ledge of overstimulation. It doesn’t take long for you to grow bolder, digging your nails into his marked back, begging for a movement on his side that will send you tipping off the precipice of perfection.

“Beg me.” His coarse, deep voice sounds far away as he starts to meet your feeble thrusts with the power of his own hips. “Beg me to let you cum.”

“Pp-lease!” You stammer without pausing to think. “Please my lord!”

Sukuna groans into your hair, lower arms still holding you tightly while his weighty palm contracts around your throat. He’s fucking you now without holding back, sinking deep until you drench his balls, the tongue beneath his mouth moving ceaselessly.

“Milk my cocks then, remind me how a human whore does it! Now!”

The command of his voice is final, your body is well trained to it. You cum hard, shattering around him as you choke out a cry, voice box pressed hard under his fingers. He doesn’t let up in his rhythm, but you feel him throbbing inside you, both cocks pulsing as you constrict. The pain of his bite to your neck only fuels the fire, and you lose count of how long he’s been buried within your cunt and ass, filling you to the brim with his potent seed.

When morning comes, he’s gone again. Only leaving the lingering smell of charcoal on your sheets.

Maybe you dreamt it, but you’re sure you felt someone pressing sweet kisses over your collarbone in the early haze of morning. When you wake you’re tucked up tightly, like he’s made sure to protect you from the cold even in his absence. A dainty, blood red flower sits on your pillow, leaves vibrant against the snow white linen.

Perhaps not such a monster after all.

He’s a big softy.

[shadowdaddies]

Hello! Can i request a cassian x f!reader fic where its the night before cassian has to go on a dangerous mission and reader is really scared and anxious for him. they are sleeping at night but reader can sleep and is silently crying all worried for him. cassian wakes up and finds reader in her state and comforts her. lots of angst with comfort

oh this made me so sad, idk how I'd handle being mated to Cassian or Azriel with their dangerous missions🥺💜 but he's sweet and would comfort you

Stay a Little Longer

Cassian x Reader

warnings: mentions of death

You awoke with a start, tears already streaming down your face, soaking your pillow. Silent sobs wracked through you, your body softly shaking as pieces of your nightmare flashed through your mind. 

Your heart and stomach lurched, anxiety roiling through you as the image of Cassian, dead in the grass, seared your brain. The agony in your soul must been so strong to have awoken your sleeping mate, Cassian rolling over towards you with a sleepy grumble, his broad arm wrapping around your waist as he pulled you into his warmth.

Your chest shook, unable to steady your breathing as he felt the wet tears against his chest, rousing Cassian from his half-asleep state. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” he whispered, voice raspy from sleep as Cassian tilted your head up to his. Your watering eyes and sniffles broke his heart, triggering his instinct to pull you close. You nuzzled into his chest, heartbeat slowing slightly at the comforting pressure of your love’s arms around you.

“What is it, my love?” Cassian whispered, calloused hand stroking through your hair, lips pressing softly against the top of your head. The question resurfaced those images, the horrifying scenario that felt too real - a life without Cassian. You pulled him closer, arms wound tight around his waist as you breathed in his scent.

“I had a dream, about your mission tomorrow,” you whispered, breaking into sobs again the moment the words left your lips. Cassian shushed you, pulling back as he peppered kisses all over your face, wiping away the salty tears as they fell.

Cassian rubbed his hand in soothing motions across your back, his voice softer than ever. “Do you want to talk about-“ 

“You died, Cassian. You died, and half of my soul went with you. It felt so real, Cassian. I can’t lose you, I can’t, I can’t-“ you tried into his chest until the corners of your eyes stung and you had no more tears left to give. You felt Cassian’s chest take a deep breath, in and out, but he didn’t move. Didn’t interrupt. Merely held you how you needed, remained present as you expressed your fears of his absence.

When you had exhausted yourself completely, Cassian lifted you into his arms, cradling you to his chest as the House produced a glass of water. Handing you the glass, Cassian watched you with adoration in his eyes, still rubbing your back as you drank. He took the glass from your hands, setting it aside where it vanished into thin air, drawing your attention back to the male next to you.

“I will never leave you. I used to be reckless, arrogant when I went into these missions. I thought myself a lowborn bastard whose best value was to die serving others.” He paused, brushing your hair behind your ear as he leaned in, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he rested his face against yours.

“But then I met you, and my world changed. I don’t want to live to die, I want to live to be with you. No matter what happens, I am with you. You are my mate, and I will live with and for you in every lifetime. But I will hold onto you in this one until the Mother herself has to pry me away. You give me purpose greater than that which I have known before. My job is dangerous, but I promise to always come back to you. You will never lose me.”

Cassian spoke with such intensity, it brought you back to his vows from your mating ceremony. The fierceness with which this male would protect you and your life together. You nodded, shifting to straddle his hips as you continued to cling to Cassian. 

“I trust you. But hold me, stay with me for as long as you can before you go,” you whispered. Cassian leaned down, gently pulling your hair as he guided you to look at him.

Hazel eyes shone with a fierce, relentless love as he promised, “I am here until the last moment.”

[paradoxalessa]

My thoughts on the game OMORI (spoilers)

I watched this game in a Spanish gameplay video almost four years ago, maybe five.

I used to watch the gameplay while eating lunch, since the rest of the day was dedicated to my responsibilities, whether it was writing, drawing, studying, whatever. So that was my only break during the day. I had a lot of fun.

During that time, I felt more identified with Kel than with any other character, maybe even Mari. Kel had a lot of me in him: he was a lively character who had managed to overcome what happened and find happiness in the small things.

As I said, I was eating while watching the gameplay, and I imperceptibly made it to the end of the game, where THE TRUTH is revealed. I had to stop eating because my stomach was turning terribly. I felt so bad that I had to pause the video for a couple of minutes, just to breathe. Not only that, but I couldn't even cry. I cried at the end of the gameplay, and I couldn't think about the ending for a long time. I felt terrible.

And playing the game felt even worse than that. It took me a week to finish the game, almost 25 hours of gameplay, during which I ran through the entire HEADSPACE from top to bottom, without a guide, because I wanted to know what ending I would get by making the decisions I deemed appropriate.

Each section felt different, but every step I took through the game was marked by nostalgia, a nostalgia for something I'd never experienced, but which I was able to feel and experience through every line of dialogue, every battle, every new scenario. And this time, the character I identified with wasn't Kel, but Aubrey.

Aubrey was a sweet and tender girl, but with a strong character. And the experiences that happened after Mari's death turned her into someone with a much colder, firmer, and tougher exterior. I couldn't look at Aubrey without wanting to cry, because I felt like a part of me was inside her.

This game seems like much more than that; it seems like an experience that everyone should have at least once.

As I neared the end, I couldn't get the look of sadness, but also hope, off my face. It's funny because OMORI achieved something no game ever could for me: making me feel the characters' guilt firsthand. I wanted to cry and hide from the possibility that Kel, Aubrey, and Hero might discover the truth, but the whole situation made me think, "As long as the truth isn't out, then we won't know any of this is true."

The ending left me devastated. This time, not because of the truth, but because of everything surrounding the truth.

The first time I watched OMORI, the main pain I felt inside was related to Mari, to her, and to the truth.

But this second time, where I did play the game, where I did experience the situation firsthand, my pain wasn't for Mari, at least not just for her, but for all its consequences: Sunny's escapism, Basil's anxiety, Aubrey's anger, Hero's depression, and Kel's acceptance; the truth and everything that could happen if any of it were revealed. The journey through Sunny's subconscious, guided by Omori.

I've never played a game like this. I've never felt so accompanied and so alone in a game. No game has ever made me feel the way OMORI does.

Thanks for reading my thoughts on the game. I just wanted to share this feeling... When I get my new phone, I'm going to draw some fan art. I'm really looking forward to it.

Thanks for reading.

[rosella-writes]

happy friday! how about some Solavellan yearning with "have you ever had something…missing? like something just doesn’t feel right inside you but you don’t know what it is."

This is no way reflects your prompt but I have? Something? Thank you so much for the inspo!! For @dadrunkwriting

Pairing: Virelan x Solas, background poly with Iron Bull Rating: Gen Tags: Clan Lavellan dies, grief, angst, Solas isn't actually very good at comforting people

~~~

In the weeks after her clan's death, Virelan Lavellan did not sleep.

Solas had been there when she nearly took her revenge on the city of Wycome — he had been the one to talk her down from setting the city roofs alight and burning out the people like a swarm of rats. She made do with Leliana's people quietly eliminating the Duke who was to blame and purging the wells of red lyrium, while Cullen's men protected the alienage.

But in the days to follow, upon their return, Virelan haunted the halls of Skyhold like the spirits who had come before her.

Dorian often kept her company, plying her with reading material until late into the night. Iron Bull would occasionally drag her away for a night with the Chargers, telling tales and drinking or spending a few hours in his room atop the battlements. She would return to her bed beside Solas on those nights covered in bruises, bite marks, and reckless rope burns. Without a word, Solas would heal her with a pass of his hand and welcome her underneath the covers.

Often Solas would find her in the Undercroft — not smithing, or drawing up weapon concepts, or even stirring up the forge. She'd just stare out through the open maw of the mountain, through the falling water that veiled the icy land beyond.

He did not attempt to lure her back to bed on those nights.

Once, when he came upon her there, her broad shoulders were wracked with wrenching sobs.

Solas rushed to her — the floor was dusty with scattered ash and littered coals underfoot, long cold. Her hammer lay beneath Dagna's enchanting table, a casualty of the Inquisitor's flare of rage. His ears rang with Virelan's gasping sobs — each one was loud and sharp in this echoing space.

She pushed him away when he reached her. She blindly pushed at his outstretched hands, for her one eye was nearly puffed shut from hours of crying. The other, lacking its prosthetic, streamed tears down her cheek still from an empty socket.

"No," she gasped. "No, no. Leave me."

"I shall not." Solas's voice was sharper than he'd meant, cutting with a flare of his own anger. "I will be of some use, even if it is to bear the brunt of your grief."

He reached again for her, but when she shoved he resisted. He gathered her short, sturdy frame into the curved hollow of his chest and clasped her head to his bare clavicle. He clawed his fingers into her hair, into her side, and let her struggle — she was strong only for a moment, then slumped.

Virelan turned her head into the curve of his neck and howled.

Solas scrubbed his spare hand up and down the breadth of her muscled back — his other remained cupped over her head, cradling her close. Her hair, usually oiled and finger twisted into tiny coils, was dry and puffed. She still wore her clothes from the day before, and the day before that. Between them, where her hands were trapped against his chest, she started to claw at the space between her breasts.

"I — I can't —"

He held her tighter in an attempt to trap her hands. "No. Grieve. Destroy me instead of yourself, if you must."

She cried out again, plucking and pulling now at her collar.

"You don't understand. H-how — how could you? Y-you don't know what this is, what's happened to me —"

"You suffered a great loss —"

She ripped away from him, finally, and screamed. "No!"

Smeared kohl tracked down her cheeks, nearly disguising her scars in the dark. She bared her teeth, as if she'd like to rend him apart with them. He wished she would.

She thumped one fist against her chest. The mark, clutched in her palm, flared a vitriolic green. "My heart is ripped f-from me. My soul is — is g-gone. This is not loss. All that I am died with them! Every breath in a world without them is poison."

Unbidden, the remembrance of awakening in this world choked away any words of understanding that Solas could offer. The very ground beneath his feet cried out for retribution. White tattoos, mimicking the spirit that was once Falon'Din, spread their enslaving echo across Virelan's brown cheeks. The light that flickered in her fist was a brutal reminder of all he'd lost, all he'd sacrificed, all he'd given only to fall short. The air, even here, was mute — no hum of welcoming spirits and resonant magic could be found.

He choked again, as mute as the spirits he'd trapped and the titans he'd betrayed.

"It's my fault," Virelan was saying, still thudding her fist against her sternum, collapsing upon herself like a withering moonflower. "Because I came to the Conclave, because I couldn't save the apprentices from the templars, because I have this fucking thing in my hand and Cassandra wouldn't let me go home —"

She choked off into a wail and fell to her knees.

Solas fell with her.

They slumped into each other, desperately clinging as if they could find solace within the other's skin.

"I cannot understand the depth of your pain," Solas lied, murmuring it into the pointed shell of her ear. "But I will hold you until the sun rises again."

[serxinns]

I've got a devious angstish idea...

SPOILERS INCASE U HAVENT READ THE MANGA THO(҂` ﾛ ´)

I luv yer blog btw..... platonic kisses >3<

Ok ok ok post war arc, Shigaraki with a little sister(or gender neutral :shrug:) he (unintentionally since he was confident he'd win..ggs) left behind. Class 2-A finds little reader and they feel bad cause shes just a little kid but she absolutely hates them and does everything she can to make their lives 10x harder (esp for All might)

She runs off and torments the first year's too—they can't get under control at all but they try. (Quirk isn't decay rather than returning things to their original form but it doesn't work on people. Like reducing a shirt back into cotton for examle. They had to get her special gloves hehe.)

A/n I got lazy with it so my apologies but I hope you enjoy!

Tw:MAJOR SPOILERS mentions of Shigaraki's death

"Y/n! I know you're responsible for this! Come here this instinct!" Aizawa's voice raised as he was searching around for the culprit. You then appeared from behind him, startling him a bit with that mischievous smile plastered on your face "Y/n, did you draw all might is a killer on the bathroom stall?" Aizawa glared at the mess and then at you. "No, I would never-!" "stop the act, young lady. Iida saw you got out of the bathroom with a red marker." Aizawa cut you off as you dropped the innocent act and glared, "Stupid snitch.."

"And just for that, you are gonna clean up this mess and make an apology card for all might" You froze up you didn't want that MONSTER to an apology, especially for what he did to your big brother

The flashbacks of you crying out for your brother in the destruction and debris surrounding and collapsing onto each other the moment you realize that these heroes killed your big brother the way you collapsed onto the ground and cried your heart out while the green-haired boy was comforting you, the way Mr. Aizawa started at you with sympathy and wanted to give you a better life so he adopted you and now your here forced to go to a school Shigaraki hates but you promise yourself to avenge him you promise that heroes were gonna suffer for what they did to him even if it means giving everyone especially all might Grey hair

"I'm never gonna make one, especially to HIM out of all people, and you can't make me!" Aizawa groaned while gaining a headache from your usual everyday tantrums "If you don't go apologize I'll make you spend time with him again and this time it'll be longer than before your eyes froze and shuddered to hear that you hated that punishment so much that you were on your "best behavior" for a whole week without pulling any pranks on all night it was a very hard and suffering challenge but worth it

So in defeat, you grabbed the paper muttered something, and walked off in defeat in your and Eri's room (you two share the same room) closing the door behind

Time skip

"I'm done!" You shouted wanting to get this over with as Aizawa opened the door "ok now let's go to all might and give it to him" What Aizawa didn't know was that you held a mischievous smile on your face hiding it behind an innocent sweet smile

As the two of you open the door to see All Might reading a book with coffee in hand, he looks over to see you and almost chokes out his coffee. "The demon child!?" His eyes widen you notice a sense of fear on his face which makes your grin stretch even wider making the blonde male uncomfortable and praying for God to have mercy on him he cleared his throat "Why hello young Shigaraki is there anything you need" he softly smiled at you as your smile twitch a bit "Y/n here wants to give you a apologize card she made all herself" Aizawa nonchalantly said as he urge you to give it to him as you did and quickly running off to who knows where

Aizawa was about to stop, but all were reassured it was ok. "It's fine, shouta let them they were prob overwhelmed." Aizawa rolled his eyes at the excuse of you being overwhelmed. Yeah, right. "Plus, I bet you y/n made a lovely- oh.." just when All Might opened the card he stopped what he was saying and stared at the drawing you made it was a drawing of you hitting All Might with a hammer as the card read "Sorry to banging on your nerves!"

They both looked at each other in silence, still staring at the card. "Thar little sh-" Toshinori came to your defense, "It's ok, Shouta, they're just a child! Plus I think the card is cute... he reassured the teacher and signed wondering what was he gonna do with you as he heard screaming a maniacal laughter coming from Bakugo Katsuki cheering you on as he heard the 1st year screaming and pleading for mercy as you laughed mischievously Aizwa and Toshinori both stared at each other again thinking the same thing

"Shit"

[moxycism]

I like using tumblr to talk about my art a lot more than I do on twitter (@moxycism btw) because tumblr is so ramble friendly I love it 😌

So anyways here’s a sneak peek/wip/colored sketch of a future drawing that will NOT be sent to wip jail but it will probably be worked on like a month from now because I am familiar with the games I play 💀💀💀

I read Ex 1 one or two years ago, but it made me cry like a big baby and I just love Fourier, Ferris’, and Crusch’s dynamic so much it makes me so sad that we might never see it again 😭. I’m not the type to reread the entirety of a book (mostly just small moments that I liked) but I WOULD reread ex 1 if I ever get in the mood for it. It was just so good.

INSPO: for school I had to read “Fried Green Tomatoes At Whistlestop Cafe” and I really really liked it. I won’t spoil, but there’s a part where a friend of the main character (who’s really struggling with mental health) dies and leaves behind a letter saying: “I love you, dear little Evelyn. Be happy. I am happy. Your friend, Mrs. [name].” And it me bawl it was so beautiful and sad and cathartic at the same time. And it kind of reminded me of Fourier’s death. I know I took some creative liberties with the room design but it was for the sake of artistic expression 😌

Other info: this piece looks so sad without the yellow overlay, and also I have a lot of work to do fixing up Ferris I am probably going to rework his entire everything 💀💀💀 I just like coloring my sketches because it’s fun and gives me a clearer idea of what the full piece is going to look like

[shalpilot]

do you ever think about how killer is 4 years older than kid. as adults that's not a huge age gap but growing up killer was larger, older, and probably had to take of himself and kid. how long do you think he has designated himself as kid's protector? what sacrifices might he have made for kid when they were growing up? when kid was 9 and killer was 13. when kid was 13 and killer 17. did he ever really shed the feeling of responsibility for kid's safety after kid grew up and became his captain? does he ever regret after wano following him? of course he loves him, but some fates might be worse than death. killer would follow kid into hell but how long can he keep charging after kid into unwinnable battles? how many sacrifices will he have to make? after wano does kid ever hear killer's laugh without feeling like he wants to throw up? does ever he think killer would have been better off loving someone else?

i hate them i hate them so much

I think about it the most when I draw them as kids and realize I have no idea what the hell a “child development” is /j

As someone who’s been the youngest in my friend groups for…ever… I’ve never been on the other side of that kind of dynamic but I can imagine that somewhere along the line Killer sat down and was like ohhhh my god. Oh my god he doesn’t need me to protect him anymore and just had a little moment of … do I feel happy? do I feel proud? I think he’d quickly realize that Kid does still need him even if it’s not to keep him from getting his head caved in. I can also imagine they might’ve had a few nasty fights about Kid being Killer’s captain now and things ARE different and you HAVE to listen to me I’m the CAPTAIN it doesn’t MATTER what you think

They make up tho… clearly

NOW. FOLLOWING KID INTO UNWINNABLE BATTLES. AUUUGGHHHAARGHH. This is me speaking as Shal Kid stresses me out SO much can he sit down for five minutes maybe. He doesn’t have to fight EVERY yonko actually he already got the one can he pl. please. so I would think Killer feels this x100 but at the same time he *also* likes running into battles but would greatly prefer. If Kid would give a little warning beforehand. Like Killer’s still gonna do it he will follow him anywhere but the years that have been shaved off his life by his fucking idiot partner can not be insubstantial.

Sacrifices… Killer and WCI Sanji would get along wouldnt they /j Killer is shown time and time again to be willing to give up EVERYTHING for Kid unquestionably and it makes me SICK. He’s Kid’s partner, yes, but he sees himself as expendable if it means Kid gets to keep on living. And Kid doesn’t even know!!!!! Does Killer think Kid would want this??? Does he really believe Kid would want his partner giving up his life for his sake?? what if I screamed what if I yelled so loud

When I think about how Kid sees Killer after Wano I go into a deep dark hole and I cry a little bit. I feel like Kid could read Killer’s emotions perfectly even under the mask but now that non-verbal communication has been shattered. And even when talking it’s impossible to tell how Killer really feels about something and that must really put a fucking strain on communication 😃👍👍 I have a lot of thoughts on some parts of tbis but they’re like. Kinda heavy and I haven’t thought of how to verbalize them quite yet?? but boiling it down… Kid pulling away because he doesn’t want to overstep while Killer’s suffering and Killer wanting to beg Kid to stay by his side but he can’t !! :)))))))) YEOWCH!!

They are perfect for each other and they deserve each other and I wish they had an easier life.

[doe-eyed-fool]

Fallen {Chapter Seventeen}

Alastor x (Fem)Reader

Alastor wasn't in the hotel the next day, I suspected him to be off causing chaos and overall calamity. But then again, he could have just been home. Which by the way, it seemed that no one in the hotel knew where Alastor stayed, other than the hotel.

Not even Charlie. I couldn't give directions even if asked, all I knew is what his home and the surrounding area looked like. Other than that, I couldn't help but feel there was something off with him last night. His grin wasn't as wide, and there was this look in his eyes...

I couldn't quite describe it.

Maybe I should have just kept my secret to myself last night. It wasn't anyone's business, much less their problem. No one needs to or wants to hear about it.

I sigh and make my way down the stairs of the hotel into the lobby. I was greeted by Charlie. "Good morning, Y/n!" She says as she approaches me. "I wanted to thank you for those ideas you gave me. Everything we talked about came in today. I don't play a ton of video games, but I had fun playing the ones we have." I couldn't help but smile. "I'm glad I could help."

Charlie gave me a tight hug before pulling away. "With this, we are one step closer to bringing in new patients! And, one step closer, to you being redeemed!"

My smile fell slightly. "Yeah...Hopefully." This whole redemption thing had me thinking. If I were casted out of heaven, it had to have been for a reason. I don't know what I did, but it must have been pretty bad for God to throw out one of his angels.

What had I done? What had I said? Even if the chance of redemption was possible in a place like this, who's to say God would forgive me?

If I truly were meant to be in heaven, I would not be where I am now...

Maybe I deserve this...

All of a sudden, I felt unwell. "Um, Charlie, I think I'm gonna get some fresh air." Charlie gave me a concerned look. "Are you still not feeling well?" She asks. "I'm not sure, I just..." I trailed off. Charlie put her hand on my shoulder. "I know it's tough right now." She says in a hushed voice, as not to draw attention.

"But it will get better. We'll figure something out. I promise you, you're going to be ok soon. You just have to keep your head up, and have faith in us. Just like we have faith in you." I only nodded, fearing I'd start to cry if I spoke. "Take all the time you need." She says before I walk past her.

I know I wasn't suppose to leave the hotel without Alastor. But I didn't care right now. I couldn't take this. I stepped outside of the hotel and walked down the stairs, pausing after descending the last step.

I look up, same red sky, same pentagram, same feeling of being trapped. Tears began to run down my face, I choke out a sob before falling to a sit. I hug my legs to my chest and hide my face in my knees.

I'm an idiot. At the end of the day, Alastor is not all-powerful. What can he really do to help me? So far, he's done nothing significant. That deal I made with him...I might as well just ask him to take my soul instead of just dancing around it.

I was going to be stuck down here forever.

"I never did like seeing a lady cry."

My crying paused, I slowly lifted my head to see Alastor standing before me. "What troubles you this time, dear?" He asked. I was so upset, so hurt, I felt betrayed by my own god, and I was angry. So, it didn't surprise me when I finally lost my temper.

"What do you think!?" I snap. "I'm going to be trapped here for all eternity! There is no hope for me, there never was! If I'm down here, I'm down here for a reason! There is no going back!" I stood up. "And that deal I made with you, either call it off, or just take my soul because I'm done!" My voice cracked, my anger dissolving into sadness once more.

"I wish you had never found me! I wish you never had given me hope that there was a way out! I wish you had just left me in that ally to die!"

"Death would would be better than this." I mutter. "Lost...Abandoned, without an answer as to why...I can't go on like this for the next eternity...I just can't..."

Silence fell upon the two of us. I might have made him angry by snapping at him like that. But I just don't care anymore. If he does end up getting mad and killing me right here and now...then so be it-

"I think it's about time you get a reality check."

I look at Alastor, his demeanor was clam and controlled. "You are right, in one way. You are trapped down here. There is no escaping Hell, and this silly little hotel and the princess' false hope, is only going to further fill your head with delusions." Oh wonderful.

"Great, so what? I'm just your slave now?"

Alastor stepped closer to me. "Let me finish. I can't get you out of Hell, I'm afraid that's out of my control entirely. You are right about that. But, preferring to die over finding a new purpose? How wrong you are. My dear, look around you. This place will eat you alive. So why not do something about it?"

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"It will take some time, but with my help, I say you'd make a fine demon. Though, only on the inside. Physically, is where the challenge lies."

"I can't be like that."

"And there is your problem. There is no one here to judge you for what you do now. No one frankly gives a damn down here. This isn't Heaven, this is Hell. And if you don't bite first, you'll be bit. And I assure you, Hell will bite down hard and not let go."

I took a moment to think about his words. He had a fair point. There was no judgement in Hell, no punishment. You could murder, steal, drink and drug yourself half blind, and no one could tell you you're wrong or tell you no.

But Hell would destroy you mentally and physically. If I couldn't get stronger, I'd be hurt or killed regardless.

Why should I have to suffer any longer than I have? Why should I allow myself to be walked all over? And for what?

I clenched my fist tightly. "Fine. I'll do it. Whatever it takes, I'll do whatever you want. Just help me, and this time...actually help me."

Alastor grins. "Excellent. Now, I'll do you a favor and call off our last deal. But, we're going to make a new one. This time, I'll help you become a proper demon. And in return, you keep doing what you've been doing."

"Amusing you?" Alastor nods. "But, I haven't...have I?"

Alastor only chuckles before continuing. "Do we have a deal?" He asks. I look down at his outstretched hand. I slowly take it.

"Deal."

[correctproseka]

Been thinking about absolutely strong An has been through this event.

- Finds out her aunt died from her uncle after he said her team would never beat RAD Weekend in their lifetime

- Watched her colleagues (EVER, Arata, Kotaru) get decimated in a singing battle SECONDS AFTER by the same uncle who broke the sad news to them (Arata especially getting Shredded from Taiga’s remarks about carrying dreams since he carries Soma’s dream of becoming the best singer ever)

- Later performing against said uncle with her team WHILE STILL PROCESSING NAGI’S DEATH, WHAT TAIGA IS DOING, and other thoughts racing in her head, only to get eviscerated by him sINCE SHES GOING THROUGH A LOT AT THE MOMENT MENTALLY (“Your Aunt’s dead, your team wont ever beat me, lets have a rap battle now!!” - Taiga)

- Seeing said colleagues leave seemingly forever because their dreams have been shattered, only having her own team

- Her father finding them and telling her the whole truth, which included the reason why until now everyone had been LYING TO HER FOR YEARS about Nagi’s condition

AND THIS HAPPENS ALL IN ONE DAY

AND SHE GETS RIGHT BACK UP AFTER A FEW MOMENTS OF GRIEVING NAGI’S DEATH

She gets back up, thats true, but lets make a few things clear.

She only gets back up because she has her team and her dad. If anyone in her team had given up, i dont think she could've handled. And as much as she is rightfully angry at her dad, he is also a good reason she can stay as confident as she is.

Plus, we know that whatever happened was NOT acceptance, well, it kind of was, but also not. You know the stages of grief are.. weird. An skipped denial (or we can count those three years as denial), right into anger- and she unleashed that anger while singing, and is angry at her town and at her dad- and in between anger she has depression, i would say they're both so intertwined you can barely see which is which. She can't bargain, or maybe she's bargaining at herself, she cant fully break down in front of Taiga, or until she learns of everything.

And once she does, more at side cards than in the actual story. Here comes the acceptance, alongside again more depression. You just know she possibly cried herself to sleep that night- if she slept at all. But also, yes, An is strong, but we cant just ignore the fact that she set her feelings to the side enough to cry at a safe place- and that she has her team to lift her up.

Because for one. Nagi is right. If An knew about it before she met Kohane, and before they formed Vivid Bad Squad, An would have given up on music all together, not that she wasn't strong then, she would have gotten over with that situation, probably EASIER without yknow. Knowing it three years later. But also the main reason she was into music would be gone, so what was the point? Now she has more people- and more reasons- to be into music.

Just adding salt to the wound yknow.

Also my headcanon is that after An was. Like yknow, not fighting tears just because of Nagi's name (which took like a full week), Ken took her to the cemetery where Nagi is, which made An cry all over again but helped her mourn since she never had the chance to, he walked away to give them a bit of privacy while An talks to the grave to give Nagi updates about her life and in the end, she feels more determined than ever, she leaves a little drawing of the vbs logo on top of it and goes back more at peace than when she came in.

[yerimbrit]

WWIB > prologue (wc: 0.5k)

warnings : mentions of death, rosé from bp is yn's older sister

for as long as y/n's known haerin, she's always been quiet.

it started in the second grade.

everyone in y/n's class had already gotten picked up, except her and this other girl that she'd never even heard a word from.

y/n knew that her sister chaeyoung would be late to pick her up, she told her that she had an exam to make up that day. that was okay with y/n. she had to be good for her sister; she already had enough on her plate due to being in her final year of high school while having to take care of her.

y/n's parents had died in a car crash when she was in kindergarten, but she was too young to remember them aside from little bits and pieces of things in the house that hinted at their existence. their room remained untouched since the incident, although some nights she could hear her sister crying in it since her room was next to theirs.

with no one to talk to, and growing disinterest in the fabric of ms. choi's dress, y/n was bored. and the other girl drawing in the corner of the room didn't seem like she was leaving anytime soon. y/n guessed she was used to this.

so obviously she approached her.

"whatcha drawing?"

startled, her hands instinctively went to cover the paper. this made seven-year-old y/n frown. why was she hiding her pretty drawing?

"nothing," the girl mumbled, then turned her face to look at her. "why aren't you going home?"

"why aren't you going home? i'll tell you if you tell me!"

that was a fair exchange.

"my mama has to work. so i go home later than everybody else..."

at this point y/n had taken the seat next to her. she didn't know when chaeyoung would be here, so it was worth sitting down.

"sis is taking a test."

the girl widened her eyes. "what about your mom and dad?"

"my parents aren't here anymore..."

"like..."

tears welled up in y/n's eyes. "they're- they died."

she started sobbing. ms. choi was about to go to her, but the quiet girl got flustered and handed her a pack of pororo themed tissues, instantly ceasing her tears. the teacher watched in disbelief.

"what's your name?" y/n asked after sniffling a piece of snot back up.

"haerin."

"cool, i'm y/n!"

the two of them were inseparable after that. from the rest of elementary all the way to now, where they were starting your third year of high school.

it became a regular thing, for y/n to either come over to haerin's house or for her to come to hers. chaeyoung had gained another little sister, and haerin's parents considered y/n a part of their family as well. although haerin's mom wasn't at home most of the day for work, and her dad wasn't at home at all for business... whenever they reunited for christmas or another holiday, they invited her and chaeyoung to spend it with them.

y/n couldn't imagine a life without haerin.

growing up together... it was inevitable to have developed a small crush on her, no? except this wasn't a crush.

no, she was in love. terribly. and she knew it.

masterlist | next

a/n : sorry for the.......... five month wait 😭😭 once i'm free i'll post the first chapter (though idk if this time will take longer than 5 months. jk prolly not)

taglist: @idkwhatim-doinghere101 @nnewjeansstuff @airice @yeetaberry127 @multiliker @saysirhc @shozeu

[dyns33]

Nemesis

Another story about a character I loved, that I think almost no one knows, but that deserved that I write something. Maybe Netflix will give us a series one day, since they have the rights to Nemesis, and a new comic should come out this year. If I make you discover it, it's a good thing !

Matthew Anderson had only loved three people in his life. His mother, his father and Y/N, their best friend's daughter.

Practically raised together, he adored her more than anything in the world, this innocent little girl who stared at him with big, amazed eyes as if he were the most incredible being.

She called him 'Teetee', making everyone laugh who used this nickname to make fun of him, but Matt didn't care. As soon as she reached out to him and called him, he would run to pick her up, placing a kiss on her forehead.

When they were together, he felt weird, his heart pounding, his brain malfunctioning, nervous and yet calm.

"Later you'll marry me, okay ?"

"Yes !"

"No one will love and protect you like I do. You'll always be happy, I promise."

"I love Teetee !"

They were just childhood promises of course, sweet dreams, which were shattered on his tenth birthday.

In addition to framing his parents for murders they didn't commit, later sending them to death row, the police took Y/N from him immediately.

Experienced drug dealers, the Andersons and their partners had fought back when the officers broke down the door, drawing their guns.

A bullet had hit a cop, who would end her life in a wheelchair as she deserved for her sins. But in return, they fought back without thinking, hitting Y/N in the head.

Another police officer was holding Matthew back as he wanted to go see the little girl lying in a pool of blood and his parents who were being taken away in a car.

They would never see them again.

Y/N was dead on the blow, while the Andersons was given a lethal injection after a rigged trial.

The Brotherhood found him shortly after, broken, alone, and full of vengeance.

Nemesis loved no one. Not even himself, if he was completely honest.

He took great pleasure in sowing chaos and death around him, but in the end he was nothing more than an empty shell, following his master's instructions, wearing a huge sadistic smile.

Nothing mattered anymore. The whole world could burn, there was nothing that could make him deviate from his mission.

And besides, humans were so stupid, so treacherous, so weak and pathetic. They all deserved to be crushed.

Especially the police officers responsible for destroying his life. He had been thinking about it for twenty years, planning every detail. Joe Costello and his former colleagues were all going to pay for what they had done.

Using one of his false identities, Patrice Dubois, he began by stealing several pieces of jewelry from himself, to finance the first part of his plan to push the inhabitants of Los Angeles to kill as many police officers as possible for a large sum of money.

It worked pretty well, allowing him to get rid of as many agents as possible, between those who were executed and those who decided to flee the city.

Matt was quite surprised by one of them despite everything. A young recruit who was in charge of the theft of his jewels, and who despite the danger had decided to stay to help her colleagues and protect the inhabitants.

A quick search revealed that she was the niece of Eddie Ramirez, with a story so tragic that it could have been made into a movie to make housewives cry.

Her grandparents and father had died in a car accident when she was four years old, and she had been the only survivor, even though she had been in a coma for six years.

When she woke up, her mother and uncle were so happy that they refused to let her leave them for a long time, staying at home to study and be away from the dangers of the world.

This probably explained her great naivety. Knowing nothing else, she had wanted to become like her uncle, to help others. Top of her class, she was known for being too kind, too honest, too much of a rule follower and believing that everything would end well for the good guys.

Adorable.

Matthew couldn't wait to crush her with the others, after she showed her true colors, because she couldn't be that perfect. No one was, except his sweet Y/N, buried in a small grave that he had covered with flowers every day.

It was fun to torture her with constant calls from Mr. Dubois who wanted to know where his jewelry was, and threats made to her mother who was now in a retirement home, degenerate to the point of no longer recognizing her own daughter.

"So if I ask you to choose between you and her, would it be you ?" Nemesis amused himself by asking as he visited the old woman.

"I'm telling you she's not my daughter. My brother-in-law is a bastard."

"He's dead, you know ?"

"Yeah. And then this Maggie called me, to tell me who you were, why you're doing this. I didn't know. I wanted my daughter, not a replacement. He felt bad because he put a bullet in her head and my little girl wouldn't wake up. I suspected it… But I didn't want to see. She's not my daughter."

It was rare for Matt to stop smiling. It was part of his costume. But at that moment, he was trying to figure out if she was crazy, if she was making fun of him by trying to hurt him, or if he was discovering that all this time, Y/N had been alive.

Another lie from Castello's group.

Ramirez's niece was brain dead but his sister-in-law refused to let her go. During the Andersons’ mess, he had shot a girl the same age, who looked just like her.

No one thought she would make it, but the doctors had done a great job at the hospital. Except her life was ruined. Her father was in prison, she was all alone.

He had paid the doctors. It was quick, easy, a simple new name wrote on the right paper.

It could have changed nothing. No, it should have changed nothing, as his master would probably have said, but Matthew couldn’t threaten to activate an atomic bomb knowing that Y/N was there.

It was really adorable, her attempt to hide her fear and make it seem like she could shoot him, while she ordered him to put his hands behind his head, in her pajamas and half asleep, while the bed between them was enough protection.

“I ask you one last time, on your knees and with your hands behind your head.”

“You will not shoot, Y/N.”

"I don't know what game you're playing, but I won't let you continue to threaten the city."

"You weren't part of the plan, Y/N, but thank your adoptive mother for being rather talkative."

Poor girl. She looked at him with lost eyes, which he recognized well now. It hurt him that she was staring at him with anything other than total affection.

There was still doubt in her gaze, which made her lower her weapon.

"… Teetee ?"

She didn't really remember, it was obvious. Even if her fake mother rejected her more and more clearly, she had forgotten her father's face, his name, what had happened. But she had flashes of Matthew.

For a long time, she had wondered who this smiling and loving boy was, because she hadn't been able to meet him before the accident, nor after returning home. Her uncle had joked that she had to invent an imaginary friend during her coma.

But she had always had questions about this Teetee.

It must have been a shock to her, poor thing, to discover that everything was a lie, and that the last person from her past was the psychopath covered in blood from head to cape in front of her.

In other circumstances, Nemesis would have found it amusing. But not Matt. Slowly, he pulled out his mask, which made her drop her weapon completely. As if she knew it was an important gesture.

No one knew his true face. It had been years since even his master had seen him, and the others were always confronted with his white mask or his disguises.

Y/N got scared when he jumped, crossing the bed to pin her between him and the wall. One blow, one hand around her neck, and it could have all been over.

"I promised you would always be happy, that I would protect you." he said very seriously. "I intend to honor that promise."

"Then stop all this, please ! There have been enough deaths !"

"Oh, Y/N. You are the last innocent being in this world."

He kissed her forehead, like before, taking her face in his hands to wipe away her tears, before placing a quick kiss on her lips. Enough for the sleeping drug to take effect, making her fall into his arms.

When she woke up, she would be in Seattle, far enough away that if he were to activate the bomb, she would be safe and there would be no time to come back.

Of course, Gibson wanted to know why his protégé had made the decision to spare a cop. He normally never lied to his master, but to say that he found it funny to leave an optimistic idiot alive who could run after him later was not wrong.

Needless to say, she was his childhood sweetheart, and probably a weak point that he would have to learn to manage.

One day, maybe Y/N would agree to see things the way he did. It would be a delight to have her by his side, he would love her even more. But if she remained the same, pure and naive, then Matthew hoped they could play cat and mouse for as long as possible.

[murasaki-cha]

TW! Loss, Death

I have been on a bit of radio silence these days and I just wanted to come out with this before new year's eve and so I can start getting back to normal and I feel like I have settled enough to talk about this.

I hoped I never had to make this post and for a while I really thought I didn't have to as things were looking up but unfortunately here we are. It's been almost 2 months since I made this post and unfortunately my grandpa lost his fight.

Actually we never called him grandpa or anything like that but I can't really translate the name in english so for lack of better phrasing I'll call him Pops.

Pops has been gone for almost a week now and it has been one of the hardest ones of my life. We got the news in the middle of the night at 2:30 am and got to the hospital at around 3:45 am. I was numb the entire time, I couldn't really process it. The moment I broke down was when we arrived at the hospital and saw him laying there. My mom, aunt and grandma's screams and crying were unbearable to hear. I barely got myself together.

Pops suffered some complications unrelated to his stroke and it had reached a point where the doctors were not giving us any hope. For exactly four days we waited for him to die. We didn't speak of it during those days, we tried not to think of it, we were just waiting. And then it happened and he was just gone, just like that.

All throughout the wake and the funeral and later the mourning dinner, I don't think I would have handled it without my cousin. Me and him are the oldest, him being just 4 years younger than me and we helped each other all throughout the day, we joked, we laughed, we recalled fond memories of our time with pops, we held each other up during the funeral and cried in each others arms when we couldn't be strong in front of our moms.

I have lost a grandpa before, but I was only 5 years old back then, I don't remember any part of it. Meanwhile I don't think I'll ever forget this one though. But pops was in so much pain before he was gone and the one thing we all keep telling ourselves is that at least he's not hurting anymore, he's at peace now.

I have been doing better. I'm back home, I've talked with friends, I'm back to reading books and doing all the things I enjoy. I'm even finishing the drawing I was doing for Christmas. I'm still mourning but I'm also now understanding that I have to live in a world where my pops is gone, that feels so surreal still, I still feel he's here and I'll talk with him tomorrow. But he's not and I'm moving on. And I'm still hurt but I'm healing.

[pickledpascal]

Put Me Back In

Chapter Three

Warnings: angst, canon character death mention

Word Count: 1.6k

Put Me Back In Masterlist

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Seeing Maya alive again was a blessing and a curse. Any time Logan left the apartment, he saw her. At the store, on the street, sometimes he would even see her in the window of a restaurant. She was everywhere he went and he knew it wasn't on purpose but it was torture. It felt like she was haunting him, though she was very much alive. And innocent in the grand scheme of things. They never spoke, he couldn't bring himself to after how quickly Maya left the apartment. He wasn't sure if she would want to talk. He knew she must've been through a lot of heartbreak already, he didn't want to add to it.

Logan sipped at his coffee while his index finger played with the edge of a page in his newly found sketchbook. A pencil was nudged between his index and middle finger. 

After a while, Logan found himself going to a nearby cafe rather than the bar. It was far more peaceful. And gave him somewhere to draw without having Wade around. He would have cut him into pieces if he found out about this. So far, Wade made no indication that he knew about Logan's sketches. 

Pages were filled with detailed images of Maya. Currently, he was staring at a drawing of the Maya he knew. Youthful with a bright smile and sharp features. 

He took another sip of coffee and turned the page. He managed to capture Maya from a few nights ago by memory. The light scars all over her face, the way her cheeks hollowed out a bit more with age, and the permanent creases in her eyebrows. She looked more mature. 

How long had it been since she lost Logan? He wondered that a lot. It could've been yesterday. Or ten years ago. Though, he could've lost her yesterday or ten years ago and he was afraid he would feel the same too. 

“Hey, Logan.” Her voice snapped him from his thoughts. Logan tilted his head up and closed the book quickly. “Mind if I sit?” She asked gently. She had her own cup of coffee in her hand.

His heart stopped for a beat. Or two. He nodded silently, unsure if he trusted his voice to say anything that wasn't a declaration of love. Or something similar. 

Maya sipped at her coffee and glanced down at the notebook on the table. She smiled softly. Logan stared at her, watching her reaction.

Did she know? Did she know just how obsessed with her he was? He wasn't much of a poet but he would try if she asked. If any version of her asked. He might have been an artist but he wasn't a sculptor. But he would have meticulously carved her into marble if he could. He wanted her to last just as long as the Greek statues. Perhaps longer.  

“Has… has anyone told you how Logan—my Logan died?” She asked, eyes trained onto the table between them.

Logan pursed his lips. “Wade told me it was to protect you and Laura. A sacrifice.” He breathed. He would have gladly sacrificed himself for Maya any day.

“That's not the complete story.” Maya's eyes got sadder, her throat bobbing slightly. Her fingers bumped up against each other as she held her cup. “I—I’m the one who did it.” Logan's eyebrows furrowed as he listened. “He was dying anyway but he—he wanted me to stop his heart. Stop the blood flow. So he could feel me one last time. But I could feel him. Feel his heart stop.” 

She wasn't going to cry. Though, he could hear the emotion in her voice—the cracks in it, the guilt, the hurt of the resurfaced memory, the overwhelming love. Logan was taken aback by how much Maya could love him. Any version of him. 

He turned his head to Maya. She knew what that meant. “Please, Maya…” He was struggling to breathe. “I’m so tired…” His voice broke. 

Maya gripped Logan’s bloody hand tightly and sniffled as tears rolled down her cheeks, dripping onto his skin. She put her other hand over his heart and curled her fingers. She could feel his heartbeat slow.

“So this is what it feels like…” Logan stared up at the sky, a flicker of wonder in his eyes.

“It must've been a privilege to die by your hand.” He couldn't help the words that escaped him. 

He could only imagine how wonderful it must've felt to have the person he loved so deeply be the one to finally end his life. One final act of devotion, squeezing out his life right from his heart. Right from the source. 

Maya let out a soft, sad laugh. “I keep thinking… about how different you two are,” She held her cup with both hands. Logan tilted his head to the side. “But then, I realize you're not so different.” 

“How so?” He raised an eyebrow, clutching his coffee mug. He was somewhat afraid the handle would break off but he'd pay the owner for a new one.

Maya looked into his eyes seemingly for the first time and the air was knocked from his lungs. It's been forever since he'd seen them properly. Her two-toned eyes captivated him. One darker than the other, but they both held so much. So much emotion. So much depth. He loved staring at them. 

“You love so much. So deeply. So full of it that you don't know what to do.” Maya whispered reverently.

Logan felt like his breath was punched out of his lungs. How could she see through him so easily? He remembered she had seemingly a whole life with someone just like him. She must've been able to read him like a damn book. 

She licked at her lip for a moment, eyes trailing back down to his sketchbook. “You draw too. Both of you. He didn't as much when…” She let out a soft breath, forcing a light smile on her face.

Logan looked down at his sketchbook as well, nearly forgetting about it. He had never told anyone he drew. Not even his Maya. Charles probably knew but he made no indication he did. It was a secret, something he kept close to his chest. He was too used to being seen as something who killed, destroyed anything that came into his path. He was afraid of the changes that might come if someone knew he could create too. 

“He told you?” Logan asked, his voice softer than it usually was. “He trusted you that much?” 

Saying it out loud, he felt stupid. Of course he would. Maya wouldn't make fun of him. She wouldn't intentionally make him feel stupid. 

“Yes.” She smiled, eyes glazing over with reminiscence. “I always told him he was amazing. He'd draw me all the time. Pages were filled with sketches of me.” Logan felt caught. As if she knew what was beneath the black cover of his book. “I loved it. It made me feel special.”

“You are special.” Logan tilted her head. Did she not know? 

Maya chuckled and shook her head. “He'd say that too.” She took a sip of her coffee and let out a sigh. “He was quite the sap even if he didn't want to admit it. He was. For me.” 

Logan could imagine that. He could imagine just how much her Logan loved her. How much she loved him. He could see it as plain as day on her face. 

“What about you?” Maya asked softly. “You have a Maya waiting for you in your universe?” 

His heart twinged in his ribcage. She didn't know. He didn't blame her though. It wasn't like Wade wanted to tell her even if he yapped to everyone else about their cross-dimensional journey. Wade wanted him to do it. 

“No.” Logan breathed. “She's dead.”

Maya's shoulders slumped. “Oh. I'm sorry.” She murmured softly. 

“Not your fault.” Logan urged. He wasn't sure why.

“Neither was it yours.” 

It was the second time she had said those words. And he believed them. Again. The way her eyes stared into his soul. He wondered what did to deserve this. Was Maya his own personal God? She seemed to make it her mission to give him comfort, some sort of solace from the monster he was. The monster he thought he was. 

Once she finished her coffee, Maya stood from the table and gave Logan a light nod. “I'll see you again soon.” 

“Wait, uh,” Logan stood abruptly, the table wobbling slightly as he rounded the table to stand in front of her. “Can I get your number?”

Maya's face broke out into a light smile. She held out her hand to take his phone. Once she got it, she typed her number in his phone and returned it back to him. 

“It was nice to see you, Logan.” She said honestly, her eyes roaming over his face. It was like she wanted to take in his features all over again. As if it was the first time she saw him. 

Logan felt the need to reach out and touch her, fingers twitching at his sides. “You too.” He breathed. He refrained. 

Maya pursed her lips before she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close in a tight embrace. She closed her eyes. “I've missed you.” She whispered. 

Logan felt himself go rigid. But he eventually wrapped his arms around her as well. He melted against her body. She was stronger, more muscle than he was used to but it wasn't a lot more. Only he would notice it. He closed his eyes as he set his chin on her shoulder. He could smell the shampoo she used, a light note of lime wafted into his nose. 

He held her tighter, afraid she might slip from his arms at any moment. 

“I missed you too.” His voice came out with a choked sound. “So much.”

[bethanydelleman]

Northanger Abbey Readthrough Ch 25

Catherine might have missed like 99% of Henry Tilney's flirting, but she has an inkling it has happened, maybe, "He had—she thought he had, once or twice before this fatal morning, shown something like affection for her."

Which is why I love this meme so much:

Again, Catherine touches upon Marianne Dashwood behaviour but she just can't really commit, "But now—in short, she made herself as miserable as possible for about half an hour, went down when the clock struck five, with a broken heart, and could scarcely give an intelligible answer to Eleanor’s inquiry if she was well." However, by the end of the evening and with Henry being kinder than ever, she has recovered. she had nothing to do but to forgive herself and be happier than ever; and the lenient hand of time did much for her by insensible gradations in the course of another day. She does indeed bounce back quickly!

Catherine reflects that in England at least, the type of villains described by Mrs. Radcliff must not exist. She doesn't go so far as to pardon France and Switzerland from containing such evil, but she's pretty sure about her own country. She also believes that while Henry and Eleanor may not be perfect (never!), she's certain that General Tilney has some "specks" in his character. Well you've come a long way girl, we won't ask for more just yet.

Murder was not tolerated, servants were not slaves, and neither poison nor sleeping potions to be procured, like rhubarb, from every druggist.

Quick, someone tell Shakespeare!

Now Catherine's thoughts return to Bath, but she has no news. Her faithful friend has proved unfaithful again: But Isabella had promised and promised again; and when she promised a thing, she was so scrupulous in performing it! Oh Catherine...

Not as bad as her brother though! Poor Thorpe is in town: I dread the sight of him; his honest heart would feel so much. Honest heart! That man doesn't have an honest cell in his entire body! I would have more hope for James if we knew he finally figured out John, but the only hint we have is this: the failure of a very recent endeavour to accomplish a reconciliation between Morland and Isabella. So James and John met again and John tried to get them back together, but whether James rejected both siblings or just one is unknown.

I really feel for Catherine here, she has to sit through breakfast trying not to cry, then cannot return to her room because it is being cleaned (bedrooms in this era were mostly for dressing and sleeping, so she wouldn't be expected to use her room again until 4pm*), tries the drawing room only to discover the Tilney siblings, but then they kindly leave her to herself. Catherine needs another half hour (her magical sad-feeling time) before she can face them.

This line from Catherine is so very Jane Bennet:

"Could you have believed there had been such inconstancy and fickleness, and everything that is bad in the world?”

What a stroke was this for poor Jane, who would willingly have gone through the world without believing that so much wickedness existed in the whole race of mankind as was here collected in one individual! -Pride & Prejudice, of Wickham

The poor girls, having their eyes opened to the wickedness of the world.

Then this part:

This post by Fira Wren playing in my head. His kids know the General is full of it. Eleanor is surprised her older brother has fallen in love, since it seems he never has been before, which again has Henry Crawford vibes.

No, not very. I do not believe Isabella has any fortune at all: but that will not signify in your family. Your father is so very liberal! He told me the other day that he only valued money as it allowed him to promote the happiness of his children.” The brother and sister looked at each other.

Now the reason that Isabella Thorpe would lose in a battle to the death against Lucy Steele and Lady Susan is that she didn't keep her first man secure until she had the next engagement entirely locked down. Rookie movie Izzy! I have too good an opinion of Miss Thorpe’s prudence to suppose that she would part with one gentleman before the other was secured. Isabella just could not manage two men at once.

I love this interaction:

This line from Catherine too, "I never was so deceived in anyone’s character in my life before.” and Henry's response: “Among all the great variety that you have known and studied.” has so much in common with this interaction in Pride & Prejudice:

“But perhaps,” observed Catherine, “though she has behaved so ill by our family, she may behave better by yours. Now she has really got the man she likes, she may be constant.” “Indeed I am afraid she will,” replied Henry; “I am afraid she will be very constant, unless a baronet should come in her way; that is Frederick’s only chance. I will get the Bath paper, and look over the arrivals.”

“I did not know before,” continued Bingley, immediately, “that you were a studier of character. It must be an amusing study.” “Yes; but intricate characters are the most amusing. They have at least that advantage.” “The country,” said Darcy, “can in general supply but few subjects for such a study. In a country neighbourhood you move in a very confined and unvarying society.” “But people themselves alter so much, that there is something new to be observed in them for ever.”

Henry also manages to tip us off about his intentions to marry Catherine right under Catherine's oblivious nose!

"Prepare for your sister-in-law, Eleanor, and such a sister-in-law as you must delight in! Open, candid, artless, guileless, with affections strong but simple, forming no pretensions, and knowing no disguise.”

“Such a sister-in-law, Henry, I should delight in,” said Eleanor with a smile.

Catherine also realizes that she feels much less sad about losing Isabella than she thought she would, which Henry tells her to think about. The falseness of Isabella's friendship is dawning on Catherine, perhaps now just unconsciously.

*Quote illuminating this point from Wives & Daughters by Elizabeth Gaskell, spoke by a character who would have been young during the Regency era: 'No, no, Cromer: bedrooms are for sleeping in, and sitting-rooms are for sitting in. Keep everything to its right purpose, and don't try and delude me into nonsense.' Why, my mother would have given us a fine scolding if she had ever caught us in our bedrooms in the daytime. We kept our out-door things in a closet downstairs; and there was a very tidy place for washing our hands, which is as much as one wants in the daytime.