#people i knew and have so many memories with.

[very-grownup]

Whenever scolding or lecturing posts come across my dash I'm always confused by what seems like the imaginary people they're addressing, but I just spent time this evening with my niece and nephew.

I don't know if I'm the "cool" aunt in their lives, but I'm the aunt who would improvise dance music and bop them around when they were babies. I'm the aunt who wrestled with them and let them climb all over me and plop down and demand my attention. I'm the aunt who watched videos of giant cockroaches with them and let them lead me in games. I'm the aunt who tonight was shown many, many stickers of "Wings of Fire" dragons and asked my opinion on them and a rubber calculator where you can make a big number and then do minus a little number and if you keep pressing the equal sign you can see the big number going down and you can pretend it's the health of an enemy in a videogame. I'm the aunt who sat through so. much. Paw Patrol.

I think you probably have to do time in the Paw Patrol or equivalent mines if you want to be an adult in a child's life that they feel is part of their life, which is more important than being the cool aunt.

I do know I was privileged to have a cool uncle (did you know men-types can also have deep relationships with their younger relatives?). He passed away from cancer last year, tragically young. But he was cool. He was the coolest adult I knew as a child. He had turtles he cared for well enough that they were huge, stately creatures. He would wrestle you in the water and lift you high above his head and splash you down. He would take an interest in what you were doing and find common ground and engage with you about it and listen to you and he was the coolest adult you knew as a child. I was ten or eleven when he married my youngest aunt, so I was approaching teenagerdom which was a dreadful time, but it was when I started to learn about science fiction, mostly through comedy like The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy and Red Dwarf. But he /had/ The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. He had Red Dwarf /novels/. He gave me a copy of The Princess Bride and Ben Elton's Stark just because. He recommended The Martial Chronicles. He watched The X-Files.

I don't think he was trying to be the cool uncle. He was just himself and paid attention to you enough to see who you were and talk to you about the things that made you feel like an adult.

After he died, there were a lot of comments and memories about how cool and involved and loving he was and I hope he knew that. I'd like to think I might be so remembered by my niece and nephew and the other children I've been lucky enough to have in my life.

It's not about being cool, really, but about being engaged with them in the time you spend together (I only saw my cool uncle for a week or two in the summer until I graduated high school) and being an honest version of yourself so they can find the part of you that they think is cool and building on that.

Because, in retrospect? Geologist with turtles who reads science fiction? Not particularly cool. Certainly not universally cool. And I imagine what other young people in his life responded to was different than what I responded to, what cemented him in my mind as a cool adult. Maybe he had his own Paw Patrol he endured to spend time with my younger cousins.

I don't know, I just love my niece and nephew a lot and I want the world they're growing up in to be better and kinder and I feel blessed when my autistic nephew takes my hand to lead me downstairs to play a game with him or, like tonight, asks me if I have Minecraft on my phone because he wants to be able to invite me to his Minecraft server. It's exhausting but still heart-warming how goofy and unselfconscious my niece is in her excitement when I come over and she forgets she's almost a teenager (she's eleven, but she'll be twelve soon, and that's basically thirteen).

...

God the Paw Patrol years were rough.

I know that a lot of you are banking on having little to do with your nephews/neices as children and then becoming their "cool aunt" once they become teenagers, but I think that you will find, upon analysis, that a random middle-aged woman stepping into a whole-ass teenager's life and arbitrarily declaring herself to be a "cool aunt" is, in fact, the least cool thing it's possible to do.

[musouie]

art by ohto.begone ノ divider by @/adornedwithlight

⟢ précis: vi seeks your comfort after reuniting with powder ꒱ inspired by s1 ep6

⟢ contents: hurt/comfort, angst, gn!reader, references to s1 ep 3 + e6, wc: 0.9k

Vi comes to you early in the morning. She slinks in with the rising sun, tiptoeing across your floors, narrowly missing the floorboards that often creak with an ease that can only be learned — and then, she sits. 

Quietly, on the edge of your bed, stifling her pained groans from throbbing wounds through clenched teeth and blueblack lips — taking the brunt of it as she’s always done…alone. She tries to fight it — the intrusion, the remembrance — but she’s never been good at forgetting, at smothering all the misshapen fragments of her memories until they were soot in her skull —

(Fire, heady and ashen on her tongue; the explosion, the beast Vander had become — and then all that came after. The poison of her words, the gravel of her voice, the tremble of Powder’s bottom lip as she harshly gripped her jaw)

— they haunted, they haunted, they haunted.

Her own lip begins to tremble, and quickly, she begins to undo her bandages, minding the shallow dip of your mattress as she shifts to a better position. (Perhaps the pain would distract her, one sting to outdo another of a different kind?) She unwinds it once, twice — and immediately her nose scrunches at the foul odour it emits: of blood and grime and sweat and —

“Vi?”

Her head snaps up; you’re staring at her blearily — vision blurry and cottoned around the edges as you fight your heavy eyelids. You blink twice and she nods, slowly turning her muscled back to you as you pull yourself into a seated position, legs still tucked beneath your blanket. “What are you doing here?” Her shoulders tense; you try again. “...When did you get in?”

“Not too long ago,” she mutters, gathering the last of her bandage in her scraped palm. “Snuck in through the window.”

You rub at your eyes. “You know I hate when you do that. There’s a key beneath the welcome-mat, you can just come through the front like normal.” 

She says nothing to that, but her shoulders do that curl, the one that tells you she’s annoyed, that another wall has been drawn up before you. You think it’s because you used the word ‘normal’ – your error. I’m far from normal, she’d whisper on starless nights, the things that happen to me don’t happen to normal people. 

She’d groan when you’d whisper back, And what is it that happens to you?

(What followed was predictable — routine. The crow’s feet by her eyes eased, and her lips hardened into a line — one that you knew not to cross, not to touch…not to kiss in lieu of all the ‘I’m sorry’’s and ‘Please forgive me’’s that neither of you would appreciate the outcome of.)

So you wait for her shoulders to straighten themselves, for the sun to peek through your window, one shy ray behind the other — and for the breath she’d been holding to release itself in one large huff.

“I–” she turns, and it’s then you glimpse the extent of her state, of her lips — indigo and swollen; berries crushed beneath a careless fist, one bruise atop another that has yet to heal. “Can I just lay beside you?”

“Your lips—”

“—They’ll heal.”

“But—”

“I said they’ll heal,” she bites.

And there it is again — the wall.

The wall.

(How many times had you tried to climb over it, to scale the bricks and mortar and find a way inside? How many times had you slipped and fallen, the jagged edges of its foundation cutting deep into the skin of your palms, your knees, the soles of your feet?

How many times had you bled, and bled, and bled, and bled, and asked no more questions?)

“Alright,” you murmur , lifting your blanket to invite her in.

(It was a small mercy, you supposed. To have a part of her, even if it was just a fraction, a piece, a fragment.

To have her close, and not so far away.) “Come.”

And so, she does. Wincing, groaning, hissing — she does.

You hold your arms out and she falls into them, her face burrowing into the crook of your neck. Her fingers, her nails, her hands — they grip the fabric of your shirt, bunching the cloth and pulling it tight.

(If you were to look down, you would see her knuckles, white, and the veins of her wrist, pronounced and raised — and, most of all, the tremor, the shake, the quiver, the shiver, the tremble of her entire being.

A leaf, battered and broken, blown and thrown by the wind.

A bird, with its wings torn and clipped, left to bleed and rot in the dirt.)

“I-I saw her.”

The admission is uttered so weakly, muffled by the fabric of your shirt, that you nearly miss it.

Your chest rises. “Who?”

“Powder. I–” Your shirt is drawn tighter. “It was so foggy… I-I didn’t even recognise her at first.”

“Vi…”

“I should’ve. I should’ve known. I should’ve seen her, I should’ve stayed with her, I should’ve—”

“Vi.”

“I should’ve—”

“Violet.” 

Her body shudders, her shoulders quake. “S-She was just a child.”

You pull her closer, until the two of you are flush and her body heat seeps through her clothes and your thin sleepwear, to your flesh. You cradle her, and carefully, you run your fingers through the jagged, pink strands of her hair — as though she’d skitter off at any moment.

“As were you.”

She doesn’t respond.

So you cradle her, until her breaths are yours and hers.

Until the blood on her lips are yours and hers.

Until her heartbeats are yours and hers.

Until her scars are yours and hers.

(And yours, hers.)

masterlist <3

[kamisatomay018]

Confessions of the Heart

Sylus x MCreader (female)

Warnings: angst to fluff, angry sylus and reader, hurt/comfort, kissing

Wrote this after being inspired by what @bookfreakk posted. I hope you guys enjoy!

Sylus was the most infuriating man you had ever met. Since the day you landed in the N109 Zone, you couldn’t stand his haughty, arrogant and smug nature. You two would always argue, especially after the man made you shoot his heart. It made you panic, though back then you never understood why. You always believed he had killed your grandma and Caleb, and your hatred for the man ran deep. But something about his battered, bloody self tugged at your heart, conflicting you.

As time went by, you grew to hate his teasing, his games, his schemes. In your mind, Sylus was everything you never wanted in a man- arrogant, cold, prideful and most importantly- a goddamn Criminal.

Then why was it that your heart skipped a beat every time you looked into those dangerous ruby eyes? Why was it that you found your heart searching for the silver haired man even after you returned to Linkon? It bothered you so much, after all you hated him, hated his guts…right?

Or so you thought. As you lay in bed alone at night, your mind kept recalling the memories of the time your evol linked the two of you together- the closeness of being in the closet, his deep, teasing voice calling you Kitten, his tall, buff body and his stupidly handsome face. Fuck, it was too much. That was when you realised, to your absolute horror, that you loved him. You loved Sylus, and as much as he infuriated you, as much as you wanted to claw his eyes out, you also wanted to grab his face and kiss him.

Fuck.

No, this was so wrong. You couldn’t love him, he was a criminal, wanted by the Hunters Association. Being with him meant bringing disaster upon your life. And that man could love no one. The Sylus you knew kept people around depending on how useful they were to him. He wasn’t one to get attached, no. He was the leader of Onychinus, he was a bloody murderer. There was no way you both could ever work out.

And as much as it made your heart hurt excruciatingly, you buried these ridiculous feelings for him deep down. Perhaps it was just a convenience crush, maybe it was because he was physically attractive. But no matter how much you tried to deny it, you had fallen for his teasing, his boasting, his pride. You had fallen for Sylus.

Perhaps that is what led to your current situation. You glared at the silver haired man sitting in front of you, breathing heavily as you seethed in rage. There he was, sitting ever so casually as he bled, having suffered multiple wounds all over him after a ridiculously dangerous mission you had no idea about. Luke and Kieran had called you over in a panic, never having seen their boss this way. Sylus was basically untouchable in the N109 zone, which is why seeing him battered and bruised like this did unspeakable things to your heart.

“Are you out of your fucking mind Sylus!? Why would you go face so many people ALONE!?” You spat in anger, watching as he simply rolled his eyes, his evol surrounding him to heal his wounds. “Seems like a certain kitten has her claws out tonight” He all but spoke teasingly, only fuelling your anger.

“Is everything just a fucking joke for you!? Why would you ever think that this was a wise choice!?” You raised your voice, agitated by his nonchalant behaviour. Sylus frowned at this, standing up to look you in the eyes. “Enough now kitten. I will tell Luke and Kieran to not bother you with such trivial matters in the future.”

Trivial? You looked at Sylus as if he had lost his mind, your eyes burning with rage. Did he not care about his own life? Did he seriously not understand why you were so angry? Oh of course he wouldn’t, he wasn’t capable of loving someone at all. “Shut up Sylus! Why are you always so arrogant and prideful!? You may be strong but you are not invincible! Walking into a room full of armed men and trying to kill them is a stupid choice!”

Sylus felt himself get agitated at that. You had no idea just why he had chosen to kill those men, just why he had put his life on the line. His ruby eyes glared down dangerously at you now, his tone sharp. “I said, enough. Do not speak on matters you know nothing about. I can handle myself.”

You scoffed angrily, hating that you really did not know anything about his mission. Sylus had been strangely distant with you over the last month, making your heart clench in pain every day. You hated how you still loved him, despite his recklessness. “Oh yeah? You can handle yourself? If you truly were able to then you wouldn’t be here nearly dead!”

Something in Sylus snapped as you yelled out those words. He hated being doubted, he hated being considered weak even after he had conquered the entirety of the N109 zone. And he hated being doubted especially by you. By the one woman that he loved more than his own life, the one woman for whom he was ready to risk everything he had. He clenched his fists in anger, glaring down at you as his own voice raised now “Don’t you even try to doubt my abilities. And frankly Kitten; why are you so bothered by me dying? A few months ago you were glad to put a bullet in my heart. So why the concern now huh?”

Hearing those words was your final straw. You could no longer contain your anger, nor your feelings. “BECAUSE I LOVE YOU! AND I HATE IT!”

Silence, pin drop silence was all you were met with after your outburst. Sylus stood there, motionless, not being able to believe what you had just said. A huge part of him felt relief, so much relief because only heaven knows how much time he had spent being hopelessly in love with you. But the other part? Heartbroken it was, because you admitted that you hated loving him.

For the first time since you’d known him, you saw a rare emotion in Sylus’ eyes that you couldn’t quite understand. Was it anger? Was it sorrow? Was it..hurt? Your own hands trembled as you realised the weight of what you had done. Confessing your love for him was a dangerous move, one that could be potentially disastrous. But your heart could no longer help it. The sight of him bloody and injured, staggering onto the couch was too painful for you to bear.

“Why do you hate loving me kitten..?” You heard his deep voice say, much softer than before. Still as agitated as you were, you glared at him, responding. “Because I know you would never love me back. You..you don’t even know the meaning of love, do you? You only keep me around because I’m useful-“

You weren’t even able to finish your sentence before you found yourself pinned to the wall, Sylus’ face inches apart from your own. He was seething in anger once again, as if your words had hurt him more than the stab wounds he had a while ago. “How dare you assume that I do not know what love is, when I have spent Every.Single.Lifetime loving you, waiting for you..How dare you assume that I kept you around just to use you? After everything I do for YOU?”

You felt your lips part in shock as the weight of his words sunk in. Your anger slowly melted away as it was replaced by raw emotion. You looked into those hypnotising red eyes, searching for some form of mischief, some form of deception or teasing. But there was none. He looked at you with anger, but also with something so much more intense, something that made your heart race.

“You..you love me..? And..what do you mean by everything you do for me?” You asked him, voice soft as confusion swirled in your eyes. Sylus let out a shaky breath, his big warm hand cupping your cheek. “Sweetie..you have no idea how long I waited to meet you. I have always protected you from the shadows, keeping a watch to ensure your safety. Why do you think I went alone on such a dangerous mission? To wipe off The Nest, to wipe off the people who have hurt you, who have made you cry. I know you deemed me as someone incapable of love, but I have spent every second of my life loving you.”

Overwhelming guilt was all you felt at his confession. You had judged him so harshly, when he was out there seeking revenge on your behalf. Eradicating people who meant you harm. Putting his life on the line for you.

Tears filled your eyes as you cupped his cheeks, watching the way he immediately closed his beautiful eyes, nuzzling in your gentle touch. Your heart ached as you finally realised that the intense emotion he always looked at you with was Love. You were just too oblivious to realise it. “Sylus I..I’m so sorry..”

He looked at you again, chuckling softly as he shook his head, this time hugging you as he placed his hand on your head. “No need for any of that sweetie. I wasn’t exactly the best at showing my care for you. I may not show it but I do love you kitten. There is no love purer than mine.”

Tears rolled down your cheeks as you felt relief and happiness wash over you all at once. You hugged him back so tightly, as if afraid he would disappear. “Do you have any idea how scared I was when I saw you like that? I..I thought I’d lose you..” Hearing your shaky voice tugged at Sylus’ heartstring, leading him to hug you closer.

“Ah so that’s why my kitten was bearing her claws.” He teased you again, trying to lighten the mood. Seeing you cry was the last thing he wanted. But to his amusement, all he was met with was a gentle punch to his chest and a tearful “shut up” from you. That only made him chuckle more, leading him to pat your head.

“Don’t worry sweetie, you’re not getting rid of me that easily. Besides..” he gently raised your chin, making you look into his eyes. “I will always find my way back to you, you have my word.”

You knew Sylus always kept a promise once he made it. You smiled tearfully, nodding as you got on your tippy toes to rest your forehead against his, making him smile affectionately. His strong arms wrapped around your waist, steadying you like he always had. “Don’t scare me like that again. You mean more to me than any revenge Sylus. I need you by my side..”

Oh you were gonna be the death of him. Your sweet words only increased his love for you even more, something he thought wasn’t possible. “I will always get rid of anyone who dares to even think of harming you. But, I will be more careful. Can’t have my kitten crying like this again, I prefer it more when you give me that exasperated expression of yours.”

You laughed at his words now, shaking your head. “God you’re so infuriating.” He chuckled at your words, looking at you with the same teasing glint in his eyes, only this time, they were also full of tender love. “And yet you love me sweetie.”

You rolled your eyes at his smug voice, but you weren’t able to fight the loving smile that made its way on your face. “Alas, I do” Sylus smiled wider at that, leaning closer until your lips were a mere inch apart as he whispered “And I love you more than anything else.”

The next thing you felt were his soft lips engulfing your own in a kiss that was filled with longing and passion. You kissed him back immediately, heart fluttering with love as you realised just how hopelessly you had fallen for this man. The big, bad leader of Onychinus; the criminal wanted by the hunter’s association, the prideful infuriating man. But now you realised that in this moment, with you, he was just Sylus. Your Sylus. World be damned, he was all you wanted.

[dxmedstudent]

(TW for discussion of working in healthcare during the covid-19 pandemic)

I've never seen this rendition, but it's so haunting. To be fair I wasn't on tumblr or anywhere much, at the time.

It's still hard for me to remember those days, in part because catching covid almost immediately after we went into lockdown, whilst working with covid patients, left me feeling foggy for a long time. I worried I'd been forever changed - and maybe I have been. I went back to work probably earlier than I should have, to try to spare my colleagues from exposure. I was lucky, I think we had enough staff and oxygen to get by. But it was still a tragedy unfolding before our eyes.

I remember the palpable fear that almost everyone I had ever met or loved was vulnerable, and the sadness of working in healthcare at that time. I can't believe people look back and just remember sourdough or stupid celebrities. We had different realities, and I guess it's just easier to forget the pain and fear.

During the first wave, we buried so many of our own because they caught it early, when we knew so little and had few treatments. Many of the earliest victims of covid were carers, porters, clinicians. I suspect every hospital has memorials to staff lost too soon.

But there were so many patients that couldn't be saved. So many people in care homes who could have, should have, lived a little longer.

I can't really explain how frightening the disease was; how even relatively fit healthy people seemed to die out of nowhere. This disease took away people who should have lived, they would slip away despite our best efforts. I hope this song can give some loved ones comfort- I know a lot of people are still grieving the loved ones they lost during the pandemic. Grief doesn't ever really go away.

I wept in my car when I heard that the vaccine was coming out, that it worked and that my patients and loved ones might be safer. We clawed every small scrap or knowledge and professional out of the abyss.

And I cried hearing this song today, because it brought back a lot of memories from that time.

Thank you for sharing this.

hi i’m seeing no one talk about this cover??? this is HAUNTING, it’s dedicated it to everyone who’s died from the coronavirus so far especially healthcare staff i just,,,

[fatcatlittlebox]

I find the recent comments from showrunners Payne and McKay interesting particularly when they state that Sauron did not want to kill Galadriel in the finale duel but for her to acknowledge him and "give him credit." Now why would that matter so much to him if not for the possibility that what he had done was done so with her in mind? Meaning, Sauron was thinking of Galadriel this whole time. His return to Mordor, the rings, his conquest. They are the broad strokes to the greater masterpiece he is shaping for her. She is his inspiration. She is his audience. Which brings me back to the theme of eyes. His eyes and hers. Eyes that see and look. The Eye is the mark of Sauron. But more than anything he wants Galadriel to see him. I made this last gifset to illustrate how this is the focus of Sauron's obsession and motivation.

Throughout his existence so far, he has been gifted and plagued by his ability to shapeshift and change form at will. He "has had many names." You see how this weighs upon his soul. He has had too many names. He has worn so many faces to too many people. He’s weary and the burden of not being seen for so many years, thousands - he almost comes apart.

This is why he desperately longs for Galadriel to see him. Not as the “abhorred” but as himself. Because to be seen is to be whole. To have one, true name even if it isn't uttered aloud. This is what Adar asked of Galadriel and I think it's meant to reflect Sauron as well. The difference is that Adar embraced the name he had earned while Sauron rejects his. Sauron hates his earned name because it is a constant reminder of how alone and misunderstood he feels in his purpose. That is until he meets Galadriel. She doesn’t abhor “Halbrand.” She loves him. She sees him. To her he is “friend" and "king."

"Galadriel. Look at me.” I believe that she did fall in love with the real him and he knows it. It's why he will always keep “Halbrand.” He will linger in the memories of when Galadriel knew him this way. That's why he continues to look like some variation of Halbrand. Because that's how Galadriel saw him. This the illusion he created for himself and one he is reluctant to leave. As long as she can see him. Just the possibility and the hope.

And while Galadriel can claim fondness for the part of him that was soft, vulnerable and human, that is not all she fell for. And Sauron won't let her get away with excusing herself or denying that she loved the parts that were truly him. This gesture, when he has her impaled with the crown and she averts her eyes away from his gaze.

He jerks her eyes upward as if to say, "Look." She fell in love with this person too. Sauron is Halbrand. The rage-filled, domineering and ambitious, violent spirit. He won't let her deny it. He won't let her look away. This is what they shared. She did not shrink before him when he pushed her away, when he told her of his darkness, when he told her, and showed her of how cruel and manipulative he could be. Remember, he saw her rage and vengeful side too. "Galadriel. Look at me." He says it aloud and presses these words upon her mind like a phantom prayer. His words probably haunt her soul. She feels it. It's what she hints at when she admits to Elrond that Gil Galad doesn't trust her alone with Sauron: You know why. The constant question that gropes her thoughts. It's the open invitation that still keeps the door open to his mind. She says she perceives "all of his mind as it concerns elves." I don't think that's because that is all that Sauron allows her to see. I think it's because that is what most occupies his thoughts. Her.

That's why, as I have previously wrote, I think the events of season 2 were setting the groundwork for manifesting the plan Sauron has for shaping the world as he saw it with Galadriel. He is going to enact their shared vision and, he believes, Galadriel will see its beauty and worth and return to him. Which leads me to her parting words to Sauron in episode 8. She tells him to heal himself. I think by now Sauron has enough insight to see that he is indeed a broken spirit. It comes up in his confessions with Celebrimbor and the showrunners have already hinted that Sauron is becoming increasingly aware that there is something about his very essence that poisons every meaningful relationship he has and dooms him to failure and despair. He also says to Galadriel at the start of their swordfight that he want to "heal..." and before he finishes with "Middle Earth", he pauses. He was going to say that he wants to heal himself. So by the time the viewer sees Galadriel tell him to basically fuck off and heal himself, those seeds are actually already planted. He has to cure himself of this blight. He has to purge himself of it. And now he has explicit instructions from Galadriel. He sees and remembers everything, right? He's going to do it. He's going to try to repair what he may see as his defect. It will be interesting to see how he interprets his marching orders from his queen. I think that is where the One Ring comes in.

The showrunners have already hinted that the forging of the One Ring will be an upcoming storyline soon. They also hinted that he's going to fuck something up. Furthermore, the audience has already been shown that the more of himself Sauron puts into a ring of power, the more corrupted and less potent of a creative, benevolent force it imparts. They've also shown that when Sauron tries to make rings on his own, he fails in the final product. He even went through a whole batch of mithril on his own without success. So if the writers have hinted that Sauron errs in the making of the ring, what could they possibly mean? Where did he go wrong? Is it that Sauron had different intentions for the Ring's purpose than what it ended up becoming? Or that he fulfilled its malicious purpose but with unintended side effects? If the former, I wonder if his true intention with the One Ring is to create another healing ring of power, his own ring as a mate of Galadriel's. Maybe he forges it, believing that this would meet Galadriel's demand to heal himself. The shownrunners have already shown that they like to put unexpected layers to the most well-known parts of Tolkien: “One ring to rule them all. One ring to find them. One ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them.” Maybe those words have additional meaning.

[chillinglyadventurous]

You’re Losing Me

And I wouldn’t marry me either, a pathological people pleaser who only wanted you to see her

Collab with @ford-pines-lover

Word Count: 2,024

Do I throw out everything we built or keep it?

You’d battled with yourself for hours. Should you leave or should you stay? Your heart begging you not to leave him. You loved Ford for years. You’d loved him for so long. He was all you knew anymore. You weren’t happy, but you knew what to expect. Your mind, however, was overriding your aching heart. You had to leave. This wasn’t a healthy relationship. Hell, there was no relationship. Not anymore.

The room felt heavy and weighed down. Every ‘I love you’ that was ever uttered in this room was echoing off the walls. Hopes unfulfilled and love that hard worn impossibly thin mocked you. Were you really about to throw away the last ten years of your life?

You gave a breathless sigh as you stared down at the half-packed suitcase on the bed. Half-empty. Even your luggage laughed at you, pathetic. You just couldn’t decide. You’d packed and unpacked your bag about a dozen times. Even now, all you wanted to do was empty it again, fold your clothes, and put them back where they belonged. You couldn’t leave him. With every sweater or pair of underwear you packed, the good memories came flooding back. Every sweet thing he’d ever done for you washed over you, begging you to stay. But, you realized your heart was just playing tricks on you, taking over with each faltering thought. You deserved better than this.

With a sigh, you slipped your favorite sweater out of your bag and held it close to your chest. How many times had you found yourself curled up with this sweater, his sweater, while you waited for him to come to bed, hoping to hear his footsteps coming down the hall? Each strand of yarn held memories, the good and bad. You remembered him handing you this very sweater on a cold night, wanting you to keep warm. You remembered crying into the collar when he’d left without a word to explore.

Setting the sweater back down, you rubbed your eyes, trying to fight back the tears stinging your eyes. You’d cried too many tears over him already. You couldn’t let anymore fall. Despite the ache in your chest, a dull pain, you didn’t want to leave like that, crying. You were doing what was best for you. You wanted to leave knowing you were thinking over yourself for once. You were walking about because you deserved better than half-hearted affection and quiet resentment. You deserved someone who would love you.

You went back to the dresser, folding up more of your clothes. With each article you pulled over, memories came in. Everything was linked to him. There were outfits you wore on dates, lazy mornings wrapped in his arms.

You left one thing in your dresser, knowing you’d never wear it. The silk slip was offensive, emerald green. You traced the black lace with your fingers. You’d bought it for your ninth anniversary, something you had thought would catch his eye and pull him away from his work. It didn’t. You didn’t care that, someday, you’d have someone who would appreciate your efforts, worship you in such a beautiful thing. No, it was cursed and it was his problem now. Maybe he’d find it and realize what he lost.

You emptied out every drawer and the closet. Standing at the nightstand, you contemplated taking the framed Polaroid there. Graduation. Ford’s arms were thrown around you, both in your cap and gown. The tiny diamond on your finger glinting in the sunlight as he kissed you hard. You’d forgotten he asked you to marry him. So much had changed since then. You hadn’t worn that ring in years. It was somewhere in that room. You didn’t know where and you didn’t care enough to look for it. He could keep that too.

Despite your better judgment, you threw the small frame into your bag. In truth, it was a keepsake. You still loved him. You wanted to remember him. Still, you hoped this would scare him enough into changing. Maybe he’d call you in a panic, crying, begging you to come home with promises that he’d change. You rationalized it as a reminder of what you didn’t want to go through again, but, deep down, you knew you’d never be able to give him up.

You zipped up your suitcase and headed out the door. This was it. There was nothing else left to do. If you stayed, you’d only be hurting yourself and you’d done that enough.

I’m getting tired even for a phoenix, always rising from the ashes

You hadn’t gotten far when your car phone rang. You knew it was Ford. He was the only one who had the number. He was the only one who ever called, so, you let it ring. It rang and it rang. You had already made your decision, already put so much distance behind you, so why was it so hard to ignore him? Why did hearing his voice feel like everything you’d wanted and feared at the same time?

“Hello?” You finally whispered, voice barely above a breath.

There was a pause on the other end, and you could hear him exhale shakily. “Please, come back,” his voice cracked, rough around the edges in a way that you’d never heard before.

You squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself to hold firm. “Stanford, I can’t keep doing this. I told you, I need more. I can’t keep standing on the sidelines, waiting for you to notice me.”

“I know,” he replied, a quiet desperation in his tone that caught you off guard. “I know I’ve put you second to my work and I hate that it’s come to this, but, please, just come home. I’ll make this right. I swear it.”

You wanted to believe him, but after so many broken promises, it was hard to let hope grow again. “I mean it. If I come back, things have to change.”

“They will,” he promised, the conviction in his voice so strong it tugged at something deep inside you. “Please, just give me this chance. Come home.”

Against the whisper of doubt in your mind, you turned back. The drive home felt surreal, every mile bringing you closer to him, to the life you’d almost left behind. How could you be so stupid? How could you give up the best thing that ever happened to you?

When you opened the front door, Ford was waiting, looking more vulnerable than you’d ever seen him. There were dark circles under his eyes, his shoulders slumped, but his gaze held something you hadn’t seen in years. Full and unwavering attention.

He didn’t say anything, just reached for you, pulling you close, as though he were afraid you’d slip away if he let go. For a moment, just being there, held by him, it felt like everything might actually be okay.

In the days that followed, Ford kept his promises. He would set aside his work to spend time with you, listening intently to everything you said, his eyes warm and focused, as if rediscovering what he’d nearly lost. Each morning, he’d greet you with coffee and a kiss, taking a few extra moments to linger, his hand gently tracing the lines of your face. He even pulled back from some of his more intense projects, choosing to leave the lab earlier, allowing himself to be with you in ways he hadn’t in so long.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you had Ford to yourself. The two of you would share quiet, easy dinners, laughing together over silly memories. Finally, he was the man you met in college again. He’d pull you close at night, his hand slipping into yours, murmuring soft praises into your hair. You allowed yourself to believe that maybe this was real, that he’d finally chosen you.

Weeks passed and he stayed true to his word, keeping that fragile spark of hope alive. Ford seemed more at ease. You’d catch him smiling over his morning coffee, a relaxed grin on his face that warmed your heart. He made time for you in ways that felt new and precious, taking you on little outings, finding new ways to bring you into his world.

But, as time went on, his old habits started to creep back. Just little things at first, lingering in his study a bit longer than planned, muttering about a project or theory instead of letting you finish the story you were telling. You tried to brush it off, telling yourself that this was just who he was, that a few hours here or there wouldn’t matter. After all, he’d proven he was willing to put you first. Surely, he could balance both, right?

Except the late nights began to stretch longer. His attention started to drift more and more. One evening, you sat beside him on the couch, recounting a funny story from your day, only to realize he was staring at the wall, eyes unfocused, his mind somewhere else entirely. You stopped mid-sentence, waiting for him to notice, hoping he’d snap back to you. Minutes passed and he didn’t say a word, lost in a world far removed from your own. Finally, he seemed to shake himself out of it, glancing at you with a forced smile.

“Sorry, darling. I was just thinking about something.” He gave you a quick peck on the cheek before disappearing into his study.

Mendin’ all her gashes, you might just have dealt the final blow

You sat there alone, the warmth of his brief touch fading quickly, leaving a familiar chill in its place. You tried to ignore the pang of doubt, but it settled heavily, spreading like ice through your veins. The pattern was returning and, this time, it hurt even more because you’d thought things were finally different.

The days blurred together, Ford slipping back into his old habits, barely noticing when you reached out to him. Each night, he’d come to bed a little later, mumbling promises that he’d make time for you tomorrow, but tomorrow never came.

One evening, after a particularly long night of waiting, you walked to his study, leaning against the doorframe as you watched him, his back to you, hunched over his notes. You cleared your throat, trying to get his attention.

“Ford?”

He didn’t turn around, didn’t even flinch. “Just a minute, dear. I’m almost done.”

You knew he wasn’t. This was exactly where you’d been before, caught in the shadow of his work, waiting for scraps of his time. You stood there, watching him, a sinking feeling in your chest as he continued to scribble notes, muttering to himself about theories and experiments. The ache in your heart deepened, spreading until it became a steady, numbing truth. He had meant well. He’d truly tried, maybe even believed he could change, but Ford was a man consumed by his work.

The realization hit you all at once. You couldn’t live like this, couldn’t keep waiting for him to come back, to choose you, when he was always going to drift away again. With a quiet breath, you straightened, your heart steady as you turned back to the door. This time, there were no tears, no lingering hope. You weren’t angry or hurt. You just needed to move on. There was nothing left.

You promised yourself there wouldn’t be anymore chances. You told him there wouldn’t be anymore. You warned him and you, unlike him, were going to make good on your promise. You walked quietly to the bedroom and packed a small bag, taking only what you needed. No dramatic exits, no last words. You’d made your peace.

You closed the door behind you, the air felt different, lighter, as if you were finally free. For the first time, you were truly walking away, carrying with you a quiet strength and a promise you’d made to yourself long ago: you would rise again, this time for yourself, and build a life where you were fully seen, fully loved, no matter how long it took.

[jungle-angel]

Home Again To The Sea (Hangman x Reader)

Summary: You and Jake never thought you'd have to see the day when his grandfather returned to the sea

Warnings: Mentions of death, war, religion, angst with a happy ending etc.

Tagging: @bradleybeachbabe I didn't wanna write this just yet but I figured I might as well

Pearl Harbor Memorial

Hawaii, November 11

It had been the toughest three weeks of your life.

And now it all led to here.

You never forgot the look on Jake's face when the VA hospital had called and told him that Grandpa Seresin had passed away in his sleep. Jake wasn't usually one to crack, but he had. He had been so close with his grandfather, the man having practically raised Jake and his siblings while his father had been on deployment and Jake's mother having to go with him. Jake's best memories had been with his grandfather on the ranch in Texas, walking the fence, learning the lost cowboy trades and of course his Navy graduation. You never forgot when Grandpa Seresin had stood there in his vest and baseball cap with all the patches, saluting his grandson who had just graduated from Top Gun.

You and Jake were saddened beyond words that Grandpa Seresin was no longer walking the earth, but deep down you were glad that he was in a much better place and with Jake's grandma again. The man had lived to be a hundred, something no one had expected due to the ungodly amount of cigarettes the man had smoked over the years.

You squeezed Jake's hand when his parents had pulled to a stop in the parking lot. "I don't know if I can do this," he croaked.

"You can," you told him. "It's what Grandpa Seresin would've wanted."

Jake sniffed away the tears, holding onto both your hand and the silver urn containing his grandfather's ashes. Already, so many people had arrived, Tom and Sarah Kazansky with their brood of kids and grandkids, Mav and Penny with Amelia and the boys. Rooster and the rest of the Daggers were there too along with Bob and Mary and the rest of the Floyd clan.

Val and Maria, your two little girls were eager and excited to see everyone despite the heaviness of the morning. You and Jake shook hands with all the higher ranking officers and people you knew. Cole and Natasha were both in the dress uniforms and their son Gabe in his best dress suit. Jake's brothers and sisters had all showed up with the nieces and nephews, his older brother Eric having gotten leave from Camp Pendleton to come and attend.

It was hard having to stand near the end of the dock while Father Sasigawa gave the short funeral mass, the urn sitting on top of the flag draped over the stand. Bob and Mary stood with you, Jake and the girls along with Jake's father, Michael, Joe Floyd, Tom Kazansky and Mav.

Michael, Joe, Ice and Mav stepped forward when Father Sasigawa had finished. The sound of TAPS being played close by, echoed across the harbor, a ghostly voice from the past having come back to haunt the grounds where the USS Arizona had once been docked. The four of them folded up the flag, corner to corner and edge to edge until it was perfectly folded into a triangle.

You and Jake were called forward before Mav handed him the flag, the two of them saluting each other with tears in their eyes. Jake completely broke, his shoulders shuddering as the memories of Grandpa Seresin flooded back to him.

Bob, Mary and Jake's brother Eric, helped Val and Maria carry the urn to the edge of the dock. All was silent until somewhere in the distance, a long bagpiper had begun to play "Amazing Grace", the music whispering in the breeze that rustled the palms and the waves that lapped at the dock. The guns fired in the distance with it, a final salute to Jake's grandfather.

"Bye bye gate gampy," Maria chirped, blowing a kiss and waving with her tiny little hand as the urn sank into the water.

And down to the sea he went, Grandpa Seresin joining his brothers he had once been so close with, some still enshrined behind the walls of rust and steel and where they would rest for many years to come.

*****************************

The air was a bit more cheerful at the bar that night with hundreds of Navy families having gathered to celebrate Grandpa Seresin's life and the memories people had made over the years.

"Aw look at this one," Bob chuckled, holding up a rather embarrassing photo of Jake as a baby, his grandfather holding him up with a cigarette between his lips.

"That's Grampy for you," Jake laughed. "Cigarette in his hand and a drink in the other."

"Man sure loved his whiskey," Natasha half laughed.

"You have no idea," Jake told her.

All of them laughed when they found the photo of Grandpa Seresin as a young man in his Navy denim, once again with a cigarette in his mouth and both middle fingers held up for all the world to see. The bottom had been marked in fresh black ink, Leyte Gulf, October '44.

"Hey Nancy, is this one your dad?" Bob asked, showing the bartender the photo.

"AUE!" Nancy Kuakini gasped. "Yup that's him and Jake's grandpa alright! I dunno if it's in there but see if you can find the one where they got the tattoos, that ones hysterical."

As they sifted through the photo albums and through other memorabilia, Val came waddle running through the crowd and tugged on the sleeve of her father's dress blacks.

"Daddy Mommy says you gotta come quick," she told him.

Jake followed her right outside where you and Mary were both seated at the picnic table. It had grown dark, the waves crashing on the shores and the black field above dotted with stars. You breathed through the pain that tore through your body, but you weren't sure it was real or false pains just yet.

"Babes you good?" Jake asked, kneeling next to you.

"Oh God baby wants out," you groaned. "Yup.........yup he definitely wants out."

"Aw shit!" Jake blurted out. "Ok ok......gimme a sec and I'll go get the truck."

In no time at all, Jake was back with the truck and helping you in while Bob and Mary took care of Val and Maria. As soon as you had gotten to the Navy hospital and were wheeled in, Jake promptly sent a message to the Daggers, his parents and his siblings.

It didn't take long at all and by morning, John Michael Seresin had finally graced your family with his presence. The Daggers and everyone in your family could hardly stay away, wanting to come and visit and see the newest addition to the family. The girls were eager to step into their big sister roles and for a moment, you and Jake know that John Michael is a gift from Grandpa Seresin. And as you and Jake rest that night, you know deep down that Grandpa Seresin is still with you, watching over you all, just as he did all those years.

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Teaching Him A Lesson (Lucifer x Reader) (Cucked Alastor x reader)

CW: Drunk sex, Dub con due to drinking, cream pie, breakup rebound sex, noncon cucking, fem receiving oral, bondage for Alastor Rated: Adult Summary: After being dumped by Alastor, you soothe your heart at the hotel bar. Lucifer is more than willing to listen to your sorrows and even indulge you when you take Angel Dust's advice of fucking your way over Alastor. Unfortunately, when Alastor sees you slip into your room with someone else, he regrets his choice and Lucifer decides to teach him a lesson.

AN: We finished it! It's a week and a half late but we fuckin finished it!! Thank you everyone who's cheered me on as I've explored characters, pairings, kinks and situations I would otherwise never have written and stay tuned for what @redvexillum and I have planned for December!

Lucifer prided himself on being the bigger man, even when he wasn’t. He was weak to temptation, in reality, though he wasn’t fond of admitting it. That’s how he became the king of Hell, banished from his heavenly home for daring to think he knew better than his divine father. 

It was that same weakness to temptation that had him following you through the halls, hand tucked into his after spending a few hours and too many drinks listening to your sorrows at the hotel bar. Your hair moved with your eager pace, tear-stained face smiling back at him as you pulled him along. 

This wasn’t right. Lucifer knew that, but he had always had a soft spot for you and oh, you were so eager. 

Your heart lay shattered in your chest. What did you expect, falling for the Radio Demon? The two of you had given it a good run, all things considered. That was more than most people could ever dare to hope to get with him. For a short year, you had stood by his side and, oh, how you had loved it. 

You thought he loved you. 

That’s why it had come as such a surprise when he had sat you down and told you he was done, that it was over this morning. You were a distraction. The benefits you brought to his life weren’t worth the weakness you created. He didn’t want you anymore. 

Cast aside. 

It hurt and you begged. It did no good, though. 

Angel Dust was sure what you needed to move on was a good fuck. Maybe he was right? Probably not, it had only been a few hours, but the more drinks you had, the better of an idea it sounded. 

Who better than the King of Hell to fuck away the memory of Alastor’s touch? Lucifer had been so kind too, listening to you ramble and cry. He didn’t get on well with your ex, but that didn’t seem to impact his kindness at all. 

“This is my old room,” you said, stopping in front of a door you hadn’t opened in six months. 

“Are you going to open it?” Lucifer asked, hand still held in yours. “If you’ve changed your mind, that’s-” 

“Are you going to kiss me?” You asked, reaching behind you and turning the knob, letting the door click open. 

Red eyes shrouded in shadows watched from the end of the hall as Lucifer enveloped you in his arms. Anger rolled through the static that surrounded him as he watched your body melt in the King’s, lips moving against his. 

Until this morning, you had allowed Alastor to hold you like that. Until this morning, you allowed Alastor to slip his tongue between your parted lips, drinking up the sweet sounds of your pleasure.

Alastor had been at peace with his decision when you ran from your shared bedroom this morning. He had been at peace with it as he watched you drink your sorrows away. There was hardly more than a twinge of jealousy as you sat with Lucifer at the bar. 

But now, as Lucifer walked you into what had been your bedroom. 

Warm lips moved against yours, soft and longing as Lucifer’s kiss stole your breath away. Your mind swam, wrapped up in the idea of him and floating on a sea of apple-flavored drinks. 

His arms wrapped around you as he walked you into the room you had thought you would never be in again. His body was hard against yours as he struggled between wanting to hold you and let his coat fall down to the ground, urged off his shoulders by your hands. 

Nimble fingers worked at the buttons of his vest, working it open one button at a time as he kissed your neck. Soft sweet words were whispered, unclear and unable to be made out as they mixed into one soft sound spoken against your neck. 

Lucifer pulled your shirt up and over your head, tossing it to the side as you worked through the buttons of his shirt. His hands replaced yours, yanking at the fabric. Buttons went flying, ripped from the stitching. 

Hot skin was against skin in a matter of moments. Lucifer’s warm chest pressed into you. The warm skin of his chest pressed your breasts flat. There was an eagerness to feel you that you hadn’t realized you missed. 

When had Alastor last held you like this? Kissed you like this? It wasn’t that intimacy was lacking with him; it was just that he was sparing with it. There was a passion and need to Lucifer’s hands, unclasping your bra and sending it flying off into the room that you had missed. 

It felt good to feel wanted. It made you feel powerful to have a man wanting you, eager for you. There was no taking your time. He wasn’t taking his time with you. The way Lucifer’s hands moved over your curves, it felt like he would die if he couldn’t take in the feeling of your skin enough. 

“I want you,” Lucifer said, lips working over the swell of your breast as the backs of your knees hit the bed you hadn’t slept in in months. 

“I need you,” you moaned as Lucifer worked the fly of your pants open, sinking to his knees as he worked the pants down your legs. 

It was fine, Alastor told himself as the door clicked closed. This was what he had wanted, you to no longer be a distraction. Yet as he paced the hall, Alastor had found himself to be even more distracted. 

You were not supposed to move on so quick. He devastated you this morning. You shouldn’t have been taking another man to your bed the same night. There was something wrong. 

Lucifer had to be influencing you. 

Alastor needed to stop this. You belonged to him. 

“Troublesome woman,” Alastor said, walking to the door. The shadow moving along the wall next to him wore a bitter frown, anger clear in the spikes of his hair and clothes over the situation you had put them in. 

Lucifer knelt in front of your knees as you lounged back on the bed, hands supporting your weight as you lifted your hips for him. He peeled your soaked panties from your core as the door to your room opened. 

“Get away from her!” Alastor stormed into the room as if it was his. 

“Alastor!” You sat up, arms crossing to cover yourself. “Get out of here.” 

“You belong to me,” His voice rose as Alastor stepped closer, “Stop this nonsense and we’ll talk.” 

“She doesn’t,” Lucifer said, still kneeling with his cock straining against the front of his pants. “You left her.” 

“Leave, Alastor.” Your voice was thick with emotion, anger and sadness fighting for dominance. 

“You do not need a half sized king to satisfy you,” Alastor continued telling you what to do, what you needed. 

“Please,” you whimpered. 

“Angel, look at me?” Your eyes flickered down to Lucifer, thumbs rubbing soothing circlers of comfort on your thighs. “Do you want this still?” 

“I do,” you sounded less sure than he would have liked but that’s alright, Lucifer would work with it. 

“Then ignore him, pay attention to me.” Lucifer ignored Alastor, who was putting off waves of radio static behind him. 

“Get your hands off her,” Alastor snarled as your panties went lower and lower down your legs. He couldn’t see the core that rightfully belonged to him. Lucifer’s body was blocking his view. “I will rip you limb from fucking limb.” 

“I’d like to see you try,” Lucifer said, licking his lips as he leaned in, kissing your thighs as he spread your legs wider. “Shall we help Alastor learn his place?” 

“What do you mean?” You trembled, struggling to hold your arms over your chest and not fall back as Lucifer’s tongue made a quick pass up your spread folds. 

“I mean, let me show him how powerless he is.” Lucifer placed a soft kiss on your clit. “Let me show him how well I can satisfy you.” 

“Oh,” your eyes flicked to Alastor, standing frozen in place with his smile straining. 

“Look at me.” Lucifer’s lips moved against your clit as he spoke. “Pay attention to me. Don’t worry about him.” 

Between the drinks still humming through your bloodstream and the allure of Lucifer, you failed to see the shimmering of golden chains wrapping around Alastor and rooting him in place. The way Lucifer wrapped his lips around your clit distracting you from Alastor’s struggles against the chains, or the way his voice seemed to be muffled by the air. 

“Oh, my.” Your back arched, arms falling from your breasts as the wet muscle of Lucifer’s tongue worked into you. 

He wasted no time in playing your body like an instrument. Fingers pressed inside your weeping core, sinking deeper and deeper as he pulled waves of pleasure from you. Lucifer was skilled with both his tongue and his hands, driving you closer to the edge with little effort at all. 

Your breasts were shamelessly on display as you gasped for air. Alastor pulled against the chains, bitter threats failing to travel far in the thick air of the room. He watched as your breasts rose and fell with each gasping breath. 

He watched as your body grew tighter and tighter. He knew your body like the back of his hand. You were close. 

Alastor had no choice but to watch as your first orgasm washed over you. Each moan was music to his ears, but he should have been the musician. 

Lucifer drank you your slick, eagerly taking in everything you had to offer as your body wracked through the waves of pleasure. Only once you stilled did he rise, tongue running over his lips as he freed his cock. 

You were spread out, shameless now as Lucifer looked over his shoulder. He made bold eye contact with the man restrained in the back of the room. The positioning wasn’t the best, he decided. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Alastor snapped as chains pulled him around the room, letting him see the couple from the side. 

“Making sure you have the best seat in the house,” Lucifer said, stroking his cock as your eyes fluttered open at the sound of his voice. If he waited much longer, the drinks and soft afterglow of your orgasm would have you asleep before he had really taught Alastor a lesson. 

“Stop me if you can,” he said, chuckling as he turned his attention back to you. “Ready baby?” 

“Please,” you spread your thighs for him, showing him your needy core and begging him to fill it. 

“Let’s show him how it’s done.” Lucifer pulled you to the edge of the bed by your thighs. Your ass hung slightly over now, supported by his clawed hands. The soft head of his cock lined up with your opening.

Alastor couldn’t look away as the King of Hell sank his cock slowly into the woman he realized he loved. You were so hurt that you’d let Lucifer use you for his petty game just to hurt him back. 

Chains dug into his body as he thrashed and fought, struggling for even a centimeter of progress toward the man he wanted to rip apart. He would bath himself and you in the man’s golden blood, then remind you who you really belonged to. 

“I just need to,” each word was a struggle to grind out against the tightening hold of the chains, “Get free.” 

He couldn’t. There was nothing Alastor could do against the power of Lucifer himself. All he could do was watch as another man’s cock slowly pushed inside the body that belonged to him. 

Alastor stilled, watching as your mouth fell open as the king filled you. Your fingers bunched into the bedding, dust floating up from where the fabric pulled. 

Lucifer pushed into you until his body nestled tightly against you. Each aftershock of your orgasm caressed his straining cock, urging him to hurry. For a moment, he simply bathed in the feeling of being inside a beautiful partner once again, after so many years without his wife. 

Ex wife. 

“Pay attention now,” Lucifer said, pulling out from you only to slide back into place. “And I’ll show you how it’s done.” 

Your body rocked with each thrust into you. Your breasts bounced and moved, nipples putting on a dance for just the three of you as he worked into you. The pace was slow and steady, giving and taking pleasure with each lazy thrust. 

“More,” you begged, reaching out for Lucifer. Fingers wrapped around his wrists as you struggled to meet his thrusts in the position. “Harder,” 

“Already?” Lucifer asked, chucking at the needy whine. “You’re so responsive and he sent you away?” 

“Please,” you begged, “Please, just fuck me.” 

“He really is missing out,” Lucifer said, pulling from your body. The cold air rushed around his wet cock as he motioned for you to roll over. “Hands and knees.” 

Alastor protested, voice a muffled buzz in your ears as the man you had loved for the last year was pulled in front of you. Your eyes ran up his red clad body, taking in the way his cock strained against his pants. 

The bed shifted as Lucifer climbed up on it, positioning himself behind you. You looked into Alastor’s eyes as Lucifer’s cock sank into you. 

The pace was as you had begged for, harder and faster. He gave you more and more, high moans falling from your lips serving to encourage him.

“Good girl,” Lucifer said, pulling your torso up to rest against his chest. The long, whip-like tail that extended out behind the devil wrapped around your thighs. The spade tip caressed your clit as he continued to thrust up into you. 

Alastor’s hand fell to his crotch, palm absently caressing the bulge even as he spewed words of anger. 

Lucifer palmed your breast as his horns extended up. Red and yellow eyes inverted, burning over your shoulder as he gave you the harsh fucking you had been begging for. 

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room as he pushed you closer and closer to your finish. The coil within you was quickly winding, tightening as the breath was knocked from your lungs with every brutal thrust in a moan that made him want to hear it again and again. 

You screamed as you came, the spade of your lover’s tail slapping your clit softly as you shook in his arms. The men in the room with you would never agree on if the name you screamed was the correct one, but that didn’t matter to you now. All that mattered was the way Lucifer’s cock felt pushing through your quivering walls.

As your body grew weak, he let you fall to the bed. Folding himself over you, Lucifer pounded into you as he chased his own release. It didn’t take long at all for him to shoot hot ropes of semen into you, painting your twitching walls with everything he had. The throbbing feeling of his release had you moaning again, slitted eyes on Alastor while you rode the aftershocks of your orgasm. 

You hated him. 

You loved him. 

Tears ran from your cheeks as the King of Hell’s cock twitched inside you, shooting the last spurts of his seed against your cervix. You struggled to breathe as a sea of emotions crashed over the shores of your heart. 

Your spent body sank into the mattress as Lucifer carefully lowered your hips down. The alcohol and post orgasmic bliss called to you, telling you stories of how you could deal with the aftermath of your actions in the morning. 

It would all be easier in the morning. It would all make sense in the morning. 

In the morning. 

You slipped off to sleep, Lucifer’s hand still on your hip as darkness claimed your relaxed mind. 

Lucifer walked, cock still in the process of softening and standing in front of him, to get a warm towel to run over sore skin. He had to compromise the quality of his clean up in favor of not waking you. 

Alastor screamed, voice unable to reach your ears as Lucifer scooped you up in his arms and nestled you into the bed. It was the wrong bed. You shouldn’t be sleeping in this bed. 

With a snap, the King was dressed again.

“Come along,” Lucifer said, pulling Alastor out of the room and down the hall by chains. 

“I will make you pay for this,” Alastor roared, voice hardly carrying down the dark hall. The surrounding chains slacked, but still prevented him from moving freely. 

“I won’t,” Lucifer said easily, eyes making a point of running down Alastor’s body, taking in the dark patch blooming at the end of the bulge in his lap. “But I do hope you’ve learned your lesson.” 

“Who are you to teach me-” Lucifer cut him off.

“Do not throw away people who love you,” Lucifer spoke simply, voice thick with emotion as he caught sight of the wedding ring he still wore on his finger. “And don’t put the people you love last. You never know when they’ll walk away and not come back.” 

“You know this from experience, your highness?” Alastor’s tone was mocking, a shallow attempt to make up for his lack of ability to generate volume at the moment. 

“I do,” Lucifer said simply. “Maybe you can fix things with her in the morning, if you want to. If you don’t, let her go.” 

Alastor stood, frozen in place even as the chains around him disappeared, watching Lucifer walk down the hall. His shadow split from him as he turned toward his door. As he entered his room, the part of him that expressed emotion far easier entered your room. 

Join us at VoxTek for a Vox themed Hazbin Discord where we talk Vox, Hazbin, writing, reading, art and who knows what else. You may even catch some exclusive sneak peeks at upcoming fics from some of your favorite writers including the first page of the next chapter of MisD a day early!!

[angelbaby191]

More than Headlines

Kirishima x Bakugo x GN! Reader

The studio lights were a little harsh, and the set—polished and brightly colored—felt strangely out of place for what was supposed to be a serious interview. But you had Eijiro on one side, his warmth a steady anchor, and Katsuki on the other, his usual grumbling and intensity tempered by a quiet loyalty. You’d been married almost a year now, and while the public eye never quite left the three of you, you were used to it by now.

This interview, though, had a different weight to it. It was one of the first times you’d all appeared together in an exclusive, high-profile sit-down, and even Katsuki had reluctantly agreed to take part. They’d framed it as a chance to highlight your agency’s work and address the skepticism about your unique marriage, but deep down, you suspected the headline would have more to do with your relationship than your hero work.

As the reporter started, Eijiro leaned forward, his grip around your shoulders firm and reassuring. The first questions were harmless enough.

“So, mr Red Riot,” the reporter began with a gleam in his eye, focusing on Eijiro. “You've been with the Hero Association since graduation. Tell us—what made you want to start your own agency?”

Eijiro's smile was bright and genuine, the way it always was when he talked about his dreams. "Well, it wasn't just me. It was all of us," he said, gesturing to you and Katsuki. "The three of us have been working together since U.A., through training, through missions. We’re a team, and eventually, we wanted to have a place where we could work the way we wanted—focusing on the missions and the people who need us most, not just on what makes the best headlines."

The reporter nodded, his smile looking more like a smirk as he leaned forward with an intrigued glint in his eyes. “You make it sound so easy,” he pressed, feigning curiosity. “But starting an agency isn’t a small feat, especially for three high-profile heroes. How did you make it all work?”

“Yeah, well, we worked our asses off,” Katsuki interjected before you could answer. He crossed his arms, his glare practically daring the reporter to say something snarky. “We knew what we wanted, and we got it done. You think we’d be sitting here today if we didn’t know what we were doing?”

Eijiro shot Katsuki a soft, playful elbow to the ribs, chuckling. “Kat’s right. We’re stubborn when it comes to our goals, and we knew we could create something better together than what was out there.”

The reporter’s smile twitched, clearly hoping for a softer, more marketable story, but he quickly moved on. “Right,” he said, his tone still a bit dismissive. “But let's talk about that legendary War during your first year. A lot of people look back at U.A. and talk about that as a moment that changed you three and many others. How do you feel about it now?”

There was a collective pause as memories of that time resurfaced. Eijiro’s usually cheerful expression dimmed as he looked at the floor briefly, his brow furrowing. “It changed all of us,” he admitted, voice quieter. “We were kids, thrown into a war we weren’t prepared for, but we made it through because of each other. We lost people. Friends. But we didn’t let that stop us. If anything, it made us stronger.”

You placed a comforting hand on his arm, grounding him. “That time taught us what it means to fight for something bigger than ourselves. And it taught us how important it is to have people by your side.”

The reporter nodded, looking a bit thrown off by the honesty in your words. Shifting slightly, he tried another angle. “Your quirks work well together. I know that Kirishima's Unbreakable Quirk is legendary, paired with Bakugo's explosions and—well, your unique abilities. How do you make them work together so fluidly?”

Katsuki scoffed, a half-smirk forming on his lips. “We’ve been doing this for years. You think we don’t know how to back each other up by now?”

Eijiro grinned, his earlier sadness dissipating. “Yeah, we each know our roles in a fight and where our strengths lie. Kat’s explosions keep the offense up, I’m the shield, and you—” He turned to you, his smile softening, eyes warm. “You tie it all together, Angel. Your quirk makes us stronger, gives us the edge to push through anything.”

You returned his smile, feeling the familiar surge of pride that always came when you fought alongside them. “We’ve always had each other’s backs. We’re a team; it’s what makes us effective.”

The reporter tapped his notepad, as if searching for a new angle to throw at you. His voice lowered, taking on a more personal tone. “And what about when the teamwork ends for the day? Surely being together in the field, then going home together, must make things… complicated.”

Your smile didn’t waver, but you felt Eijiro tense slightly beside you, and Katsuki’s expression grew darker. He wasn’t one to entertain personal questions, but his eyes flicked to you, letting you handle it.

“Not at all,” you replied evenly. “It actually makes things easier. We know each other better than anyone. Being able to go home to people who understand you on that level… it’s a blessing, not a complication.”

“Interesting.” The reporter’s tone held a note of skepticism, and he angled his body toward you. “You must get a lot of questions about your marriage, though. After all, it’s not every day we see a poly arrangement in the hero world.”

Eijiro chuckled lightly, trying to ease the tension that had started to creep in. “Well, it’s not the ‘normal’ relationship, I guess, but it’s ours. We didn’t set out to make any kind of statement—we’re just happy together.”

The reporter’s eyebrows rose, his smirk widening as he leaned in a little closer. “Happy, yes, but a question many have is how exactly it works. I mean, three heroes… I imagine things must get interesting behind closed doors, if you know what I mean.”

The moment he said it, you felt the heat spike in the room. Katsuki sat up straighter, his jaw locked, hands balling into fists. His voice was low, simmering with suppressed rage. “The hell did you just ask us?”

The reporter flinched slightly, clearly taken aback by the intensity of Katsuki’s reaction, but his gaze turned to you as if daring you to answer. Eijiro’s hand tightened protectively on your shoulder, his usually warm expression hardening into one of disappointment and warning.

But instead of letting either of them take the lead, you raised a hand, gently nudging Eijiro to let you handle it. Katsuki’s eyes met yours, and though still fuming, he held his tongue, trusting you to speak.

With a calm, collected expression, you leaned forward, meeting the reporter’s gaze directly. “In a world where we're risking our lives every day to protect others, where we face danger daily to keep people safe, you’d think people would care more about our hero work than our personal lives.”

The reporter blinked, clearly not expecting such a controlled but cutting response. Your voice was steady, but there was a hard edge to it, an undeniable authority.

“Our marriage is built on mutual respect, trust, and love. It’s not ‘interesting’ or some novelty—it’s our life. And we don’t need to explain the details to anyone who can’t see beyond a headline,” you continued, your tone unwavering. “If that’s all you’re focused on, then that’s a reflection on you, not us.”

Eijiro’s hand slipped down to clasp yours, giving a firm, supportive squeeze. His pride in you was clear, and Katsuki gave a sharp, approving nod. “Yeah,” he said, voice laced with a mixture of admiration and impatience. “What Angel said. Got any actual questions, or are you just here to pry into stuff that’s none of your damn business?”

The silence was thick and heavy, and the reporter shifted, suddenly uncomfortable. He cleared his throat, mumbling some half-hearted apology as he hurriedly tried to wrap up, looking visibly thrown by your strength.

When the interview finally ended, and the lights dimmed, Eijiro pulled you into a warm hug, laughing softly. “Angel, that was amazing. You totally handled that jerk.”

Katsuki’s scowl softened as he ruffled your hair, a rare smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You shut him up better than any explosion could. Proud of you.”

You leaned into their warmth, feeling the familiar sense of security that only they could bring. “Guess we’re stronger together, huh?”

Eijiro grinned, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “Always.”

[twipsai]

omega and silver fic is up! ill put the full thing under the cut yayyy

~

Days and weeks and months melted together, years going by as his body rusted and decayed, warping itself beyond repair as fewer and fewer people dared to enter the Flame Core, fewer caring to check in on them.

He wasn’t conscious for a large portion of it. How could he be? Why would he be? Any reason to stay present was gone.

So he sat. He waited. For what, he wasn’t sure.

…

And then.

And then one day.

One day, something new. The feeling of something stirring against his chest awoke him from a multi-decade slumber. It took minutes, maybe hours, for all of his systems to come back online. The ones remaining, anyway. Everything hit him like bullets— two lifeforms detected, tactile input detected, loss of ammunition, left shoulder joint disconnected, motor functions offline…

Everything buzzed faintly.

Finally, he could see again.

He shifted his cameras down to see…

“CHILD.”

The kid’s eyes flew open as he stumbled backwards from being curled up against his side. A scream erupted from the child’s body. Analysis showed he was a hedgehog, about six, not matching anyone stored within his database.

Though, there weren’t many people around who did, anymore.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?” Omega questioned, voice echoing unpleasantly against the cavern’s walls.

The child didn’t answer, his breathing picking up speed as his hands started to tremble. He fell to his knees, eyes wide and unblinkingly staring at Omega.

“I BELIEVE I MAY HAVE FRIGHTENED YOU. THIS WAS NOT MY INTENTION.”

It looked like the child couldn’t breathe, now, as if he was being strangled by an invisible force. He grasped a hand around his neck while tears rolled down his cheeks.

Somewhere in his data storage, something like a memory surfaced. It was an unfamiliar feeling.

At some point, someone he knew had something like this happen to them.

“INITIATING ‘COMFORT’ PROTOCOL.”

Through old, crackling speakers, a song started to play. Even with the terrible audio crunching, the piano still rang out as soft as ever. Slow notes drawled on. The lifeform behind him shifted. The child took about 3.49 seconds to visually indicate he had heard the music. His ears perked up and his terrified eyes softened. Over the course of six minutes and twenty-three seconds, the child’s heart rate decreased from 110 beats per minute to 100.

The first thing that tiny child squeaked out was, “Can you move?”

Omega responded after a moment to check. “NO.”

The child then slowly stood, inching forward on trembling legs to sit closer to the music. He leaned an ear to Omega’s chest where the sound crackled out from. He was way too warm for a tiny child, and if he wasn’t showing no other symptoms, Omega would have thought he was sick.

As the song steadily reached its conclusion, the child seemed about as relaxed as he was going to get.

“What is this?” he asked.

“GYMNOPEDIE NO. 1.”

The child looked up and squinted his eyes, confused. “I don’t understand.”

“IT’S A VERY OLD SONG FROM AN ESTIMATED 400 YEARS AGO.”

“A song? What’s a song?”

Omega was never very good at explaining the more… human aspects of life. The alive parts.

Others would be better suited to explain this.

He knew many that could’ve.

“A SONG IS TYPICALLY A COLLECTION OF NOTES PLAYED IN SUCCESSION TO CREATE A MELODY. WHY WERE YOU SLEEPING ON ME, CHILD?”

“I’m sorry.”

“I DO NOT CARE. YOU HAVE NOT ANSWERED MY QUESTION.”

The child’s grey quills flared out even more than they already had, and he fidgeted with the bandages around his wrists. “Your body is cold. It’s very warm here. I was just trying to cool off…”

“WHAT IS YOUR NAME?”

“I think it’s Silver.”

“YOU ARE NOT SURE?”

“No.”

“WHY ARE YOU HERE?”

“I’m trying to get to Crisis City.”

That was an unfamiliar location. Omega checked his residual memory, and cross referenced it with previous data he had archived. “THE RUINS OF SOLEANNA.”

“Um. Maybe?”

“THE HEART OF IBLIS. INQUIRY: WHY IS A TINY MEATBAG LIKE YOU MARCHING TO YOUR CERTAIN DEATH?”

Silver sat down in the place where his left arm should have been, under exposed wires sparking threateningly. This close, Omega could see the scabs on his knees, the blood soaking through the messily-wrapped bandages, the cuts littering his arms and legs, his calloused hands and feet— he could see the determination in his eyes as he folded his hands in his lap and furrowed his brows. “I'm going to defeat Iblis.”

If Omega could laugh, he would. “DOES NOT COMPUTE. SILVER THE HEDGEHOG: SMALL, MORTAL, POWERLESS. IBLIS: GIANT, IMMORTAL, POWERFUL. I ASK AGAIN; WHY IS A TINY MEATBAG LIKE YOU MARCHING TO YOUR DEATH?”

“Because I have to! I have powers no one else has, if there's something I can do, then I wanna help!”

“FURTHER DATA NEEDED. WHAT POWERS DO YOU POSSESS, CHILD?”

“Um, someone told me its called psy– psycho— um—”

“PSYCHOKINESIS.”

“Yes! Psychokinesis!”

There was no telling how powerful the child actually was. Omega knew better than to underestimate children at this point, when three had accompanied him on adventure after adventure before the flames had consumed the world.

They were children. Most of his companions were. 

His chest suddenly felt strange. Felt. He tried to run a diagnosis on his power core, only to find that it was still destroyed. Nothing had changed about his state. What made that feeling?

“Excuse me, uh… sir?”

“OMEGA.”

“Huh?”

“THAT IS MY NAME. E-123 OMEGA.”

“Oh. Well, your eyes are glowing.”

Strange. Someone once said that he was very expressive— he thought it was what she called “sarcasm”, but then went on to explain all the little things she noticed about him, and how he reacts to things. It seemed that, even with almost all of his functions offline, he was still finding ways to express himself.

“Omega?”

“WHAT.”

Silver looked up at him shyly. “Can I lean on you again? It’s very hot in here, and you’re very cool…”

“I LACK THE PROPER MOTOR FUNCTION TO STOP YOU.”

“That’s why I asked.”

A memory surfaced. Covered in rust and cobwebs and ash.

A very long time ago, he was carrying someone gently, as gently as he could. This person was tired— he had been through a lot that week. He could barely stand. So he carried him to his room quietly, trying his best not to tear the blankets he used to tuck him in. He must not have done a very good job at being quiet, because he woke up to a degree.

“Omega,” he mumbled, eyes still half-closed. “Don’t… don’t let anyone do anything to you. Even though you’re… you’re a robot… you should get to be your own person…”

He quietly took a step back. 

“YOUR MUMBLING IS INCOHERENT,” Omega replied. “TELL ME TOMORROW; I WILL STILL BE HERE.”

And he turned.

And left.

Silver, for one reason or another, was dragging up memories that he thought had been trapped in old storage. Maybe it was the fact that he hadn’t had a conversation with another person in over a hundred years. Maybe the long stretches of silence had a way of turning one into a poet.

“YES,” Omega finally replied, “YOU MAY LEAN ON ME.”

Silver crawled over his lap, smushing himself in between Omega’s in-tact arm and torso, forehead leaning against his upper arm. If Omega thought the child would listen, he would warn him about getting tetanus from his rusted fingers.

“I have a question now. Is that okay?”

“YES.”

“How old are you?”

“73,784.8 DAYS HAVE PASSED SINCE MY CREATION.”

“Uhhh… that’s a lot…”

Eggman didn’t program conversion to weeks, months, and years into his internal clock. Eventually it would stop counting up when it hit 999,999.999 days. It also meant that he had to mentally convert it himself. “APPROXIMATELY 200 YEARS.”

“Oh.”

…

The child looked up at him with impossibly large eyes.

“Oh! Were you around before Iblis was, Omega?!”

“YES—”

“Can you tell me about it?! Please! I’ve heard stories but— but not from someone who was there! You gotta tell me!”

Much to his dismay, Omega was finding this child amusing. And familiar. “WHAT WOULD YOU LIKE TO KNOW?”

“Um, um…” When he was in thought, Silver fidgeted with his poncho’s hem. “Tell me about the sky!”

“...THE SKY?”

“Yes!”

Omega hadn’t been outside for most of his lifespan— he had spent it in the Flame Core. But he did remember that— “IT WAS GIANT.”

A massive expanse that blanketed the entire earth. A constant in a chaotic life. No matter where you went, the sky followed.

“IT WOULD CHANGE COLOR. MANY COMPARED IT TO A PAINTING.”

The child looked up at him with wonder in his eyes, absorbing every syllable.

“IT WAS THE ONE THING IN LIFE THAT REMAINED.”

Absolute awe was written on Silver’s face. 

Omega could make a well-informed guess of what awaited him outside the cavern if he was ever fixed.

“Can you tell me about the people?”

“YOU ASK MANY QUESTIONS.”

“I haven’t gotten this many answers before.”

They were his companions. Teammates. Friends, though, that was pushing it a little, as one of them would say. After so long to think about it, to put his feelings into words, he came to the conclusion that he must have cared about them. They were almost all gone, now. Almost. But he could remember watching them from afar, completely captivated by how they moved. It was all just play to most of them. They would train against each other, race across continents, get takeout in the middle of a mission… Everything was just another day. They laughed in the face of danger. They stood tall. They cared.

Oh, how they cared.

“I BELIEVE THEY WERE NOT VERY DIFFERENT FROM THE PEOPLE OF THIS TIME.”

“No?”

“NO. THEY WERE ALL JUST PEOPLE. MUNDANE.”

Silver knitted his brows together in thought, then pointed past where Omega’s cameras could reach, behind the two of them. “Was he there?”

But he knew.

He knew.

Knew who he was pointing to.

“YES.”

“What’s his name?”

“SHADOW.”

“Why is he trapped in there?”

While Omega couldn’t see him in his position, he knew exactly how Shadow looked. Arms up and cuffed with giant metal rings, attached to a hexagonal cage that stretched over him in a diamond shape, glowing pink and white. The image was committed to his long-term memory.

Perhaps it was better he couldn’t turn to see.

“HUMANITY THOUGHT HE WAS THE CAUSE OF THE FLAMES OF DISASTER.”

Silver stood and walked behind him. The tingle of apprehensiveness of having his back turned to a sentient being was duller than he remembered. “Was he?”

“NO,” he could say for certain. “NO, HE WASN’T.”

“Then why did they do this to him?”

He could remember his claw gripping Shadow’s neck as he begged and pleaded for mercy. He remembered his body acting without his command as he unfeelingly attacked him. He remembered Shadow going limp on the floor, almost dead. He remembered watching as people crowded around him and quickly put him into stasis.

He remembered standing with him,

for centuries.

Maybe as an apology. Maybe because it was what he was built to do.

He remembered.

“HUMANITY FEARS WHAT THEY DON'T UNDERSTAND, CHILD.”

Quietly, Silver walked back to Omega’s side, leaning on him once again, and a little more curled up in his lap than he was before. “I know,” he said. “I know that.” 

Of course he did. Omega could have guessed that, especially in this world; this world that was dominated by terror. After all, Silver was here, alone, at six years old. Whatever reason he had for that couldn't be a pleasant one.

“YOU REMIND ME OF THE PEOPLE I FOUGHT ALONGSIDE BACK THEN.”

“Before Iblis?”

“YES.”

“I do?”

“YOU ARE MARCHING TO FACE IMPOSSIBLE ODDS. YET YOU REMAIN OPTIMISTIC. YOU STRIVE TO PROTECT A BROKEN WORLD THAT HURT YOU.”

Silver fidgeted with the hem of his poncho. His markings pulsed with light. “Even if the whole world was against me,” he whispered, “I'd still protect it.”

“I SEE. INQUIRY;”

“Mhm?”

“HOW CAN YOU FIGHT WHEN YOU KNOW YOU CAN'T WIN?”

For a long time, Silver stayed quiet.

He spoke slowly. “As long as I don't give up… there's hope.”

How optimistic. How cruel, for a child to say those words with a trembling voice. If Omega could, he'd weep. 

Then, he returned to his excited demeanor. “Hey, you know what? I could probably get Shadow out of there!”

“YOU COULD NOT.”

“I could try! If I could wake your friend up, then maybe—”

“CHILD.”

He stayed quiet.

“I MADE A VOW TO PROTECT THOSE I HELD DEAR.” He flickered some of the lights on his body on and off. “I BROKE THAT VOW ONCE. NOW, I WILL REMAIN HERE, BY HIS SIDE, UNTIL I AM GONE.”

Silver was practically curled up in his lap, forehead rested on his chest. His body temperature had dropped significantly since he had woken up. “Okay, then. Hey, I have another question.”

“ASK IT.”

“Can you make that ‘song’ again?”

How optimistic.

How cruel.

“YES. I CAN.”

The piano hummed through his broken speakers. It made ear-splitting popping noises occasionally, but Silver didn't seem to mind. He shifted so his ear was right above Omega’s internal speaker.

His companions would have liked Silver. It was obvious— maybe even Shadow would have. But they were separated by eons.

Omega only hoped the next time they met, it was for a kinder reason.

‘Hoped’...

Silver must have been rubbing off on him. 

[snowmoonwrites]

Virus: Chibify! Chapter1

Tokyo Debunker fic. General audience, Full Fluffy crack. Let's put the ghouls into onesies! First victim? Lyca!

A new Curse have been going rampant in the Academy. No one knew how it started, who was the perpetrator, or what was the reason for it all. What everyone knew is that it left people as toddlers for 24 hours. Not more, not less. Given that it was not malicious in nature, at least it didn’t seem to be so, the Academy said it is an anomaly virus that will have to run its course.

That is what you all have been told, at least. You thought that the ghouls, just like usual, will be immune to this as well. At least, that was what you thought. Until you stepped into Obscuary’s dorm to get a signature from Lyca on one of the forms. When asked, Rui told you Lyca hadn’t left his room that day left, and feel free to barge in. While uncomfortable with the idea, after several minutes of futile knocking you opened the door. And what welcomed you was a sight you weren’t ready for. Instead of the grown-up Lyca, in the bed was a small child, curled up into a ball.

As you went closer, the boy’s eyes snapped open, turning to face you. A growl left his throat, but it immediately died out when he saw you. He probably retained at least some part of his memories if he recognized you. Or maybe your scent was familiar. Either way, he tilted his head to the side, looking positively like a puppy. Oh, my! That is exactly what he was after all! OH NO! You shook yourself, this is not the time for this! You lifted him up, bundling him into too-big clothes, and ran out. 

“Rui!” When his head appeared at the other end of the stairs you showed him Lyca in your arms. “I don’t think you all are immune to the virus.”

“Clearly not,” he replied letting you pass by. “I don’t think we have anything that would fit him.”

Oh, yeah, you can’t make Lyca go through the day butt naked. Clearly, that would not be wise. But you also couldn’t let him bi in his oversized clothes either. You knew from experience that asking the Academy will do you no good.

“I’ll manage it somehow. I’ll bring him back when he is back to a reasonable age.” You nodded to Rui while walking out of the dorm. While walking through the garden you opened your phone and called the one person you knew will be able to get you onesies in less than an hour. 

“Yes”

“Umm… Not to sound strange… But would you be able to get me onesies for children around…” You looked at Lyca in your arms. “How old are you now?” When the answer was a confused face you let it go. “Two? Maybe three years old of age?”

“The virus?”

“The virus. It turns out you ghouls are not at all immune to it either.” Maybe your voice showed a bit too much of glee as you could hear a long-suffering sigh on the other end of the line.

“How many do you need?”

“Around 21?” 

“Got it. Come pick it up in an hour.”

The phone call ended without any more words exchanged. It was typical, you just shrugged and made your way towards Frostheim. You looked down at Lyca, bouncing him a bit in your arms.

“How about we go see Subaru-kun after we get you some new clothes?”

Lyca’s ears perked up, it seemed like he wasn’t fully able to control his transformation. Whether it was an age thing or the Cursevirus, you didn’t know. He looked up at you, very excited as his tail wagged in a furious rhythm. You would have bet your entire life that Lyca knew who you were talking about.

When you stepped into Frostheim you were greeted by several students tending to small toddlers. They sent you sympathetic looks. At least theirs aren’t ghouls. You are still afraid what will happen with some of the others when they get turned into toddlers. Will Ed become a human again? The virus was too confusing for you, and even Yuri said he knows next to nothing about it. Which clearly hurt his pride to admit.

Well, given the situation, you decided to focus on the task at hand. You walked up to Jin’s room and knocked 5 times as usual. When your phone vibrated, you walked right in, knowing you got permission to enter. Or at least you thought that was what it meant! But clearly not! Jin was half naked, pulling up his shirt. You squeaked and put a hand before the small Lyca’s eyes.

“You should read the message.” Jin drawled, not in a hurry to hide his naked torso. And you felt no shame at looking. Well, one of your arms was holding Lyca, the other covering his eyes. You had no free hand. What were you supposed to do? Turn around? Maybe? Walk out? Possibly. But you didn’t care at all. 

“Where are the onesies?” You looked over the room, looking for a big pile of children’s clothing. You spotted a box next to the bed, nodded towards it. “Is that it?” 

Jin grunted in an affirmative. Finally finishing buttoning up his shirt. “I did not choose them. I take no criticism for them.”

“Got it.” You set down Lyca on the bed and opened up the box, lifting out the nicely folded onesies. They were all animal themed… Hmmm… You looked through them. Some of them, you instantly knew which ghoul should wear when they get infected. Some, you were hesitant about. You fished out the wolf one and helped Lyca into it. A cheesy choice. But he looked so cute! 

Your phone’s folder will be full of cute ghouls! You snapped a quick photo before helping Lyca down from the bed.

“Let’s go surprise Subaru-kun, hmm?” You reached out, and Lyca grabbed onto your hand, pulling you towards the door.

“Go! Let’ go! Let’s go to Suba-kun!”

“I’ll pick up the clothes on my way home.” You called out to Jin as you let Lyca pull you towards the door. He stepped in front of you two, eliciting a growl from Lyca’s throat. 

“I’ll make one of the brats bring it to your dorm. The child might not turn back till much later.” He patted your head then stole a kiss onto your forehead before moving out of the way and letting the kiddified Lyca pull you towards Hotarubi. Clearly following his nose rather than basing anything on his knowledge. Thankfully the onesies came with protective shoes, so you won’t have to carry all the boys around all day.

During your walk you wrote to Subaru to let him know that you are bringing a virus affected Lyca. He wrote back about his willingness to host you both till Lyca got better. You thanked him, telling him you two are on your way. 

When you arrived at the edge of the dorm, where sunny weather turned into everlasting rain, Subaru stood there waiting for you with a spare umbrella. Lyca made uppie hands towards him. Subaru instantly took him into his hands.

“Ah, let me hold the umbrella so you won’t get wet.” You took the umbrella and put it over them. While you got a little wet, at least the small Lyca got through the rain without a speck of raindrop. All the while he was talking off Subaru’s ear about all the things with the enthusiasm only small children have.

As you walked into the room, Haku threw a towel on your shoulder, scolding you for not taking care of yourself better. You let him and Zenji fuss over you, keeping an eye on Lyca, who seemed to be an energetic child, who liked to talk off Subaru’s ear. He totally had favourite persons. He didn’t even spare a glance at Haku, but pulled you closer so you all could listen to his tales about chasing squirrels in the forest. Whether these were such fond memories that they stayed with him, or if they got clearer due to the virus, you didn’t know. It was certainly cute.

What made your day perhaps was the way Haku got a carton box out of nowhere, and put the small Lyca into it, who immediately claimed it as his new den. And if Haku tried to go even an inch closer that Lyca deemed safe, his ears would perk up, a growl leaving him. But then he would look at Subaru, waiting to be chastised and he would take out his best puppy eyes to look pitiful.

Your phone’s gallery held new pictures, a folder dedicated to smol ghouls now. You were looking forward to gathering more.

ALSO Guys. I made a Kofi. So feel free to send me your love over there too <3

[southparkthetwosidesofacard]

I am listening! I am invested! Please yap about your au idea!!

AHHHHHHHHHIIWJHDIEHDIANRRUFIFBFIEBF HFHDB I GET TO YAP ABOUT THIS YAYYYYYY

ok so, I honestly don’t have much of an idea as to where exactly this would go, but just for the basics (which I’m mostly coming up with on the fly, I’ll be honest) here we go:

(this ended up being quite long so everything else is under the break, sorry!)

obviously, ford and bill were not always… separated, as it were. growing up and into his teens and early twenties it was just stanford pines, no “alter egos” or masks or anything of the sort (much as he would’ve loved to be able to hide who he was).

then, when he moved up to gravity falls and began his research, he began to realize that there were so many things that he wanted to do, couldn’t do, because of his reputation. he needed to keep his record clean because if he didn’t, he could easily have his grant money revoked, and any future opportunities in the pursuit of science dashed due to one small slip up. so, he began to look into, well, changing who he was, splitting himself, so to speak, as to be not one but two at the same time.

eventually, it worked somehow (probably through a potion, as jekyll uses in the original book), and he found himself as not just one, but seemingly two people in one body. there was the stanford pines most people knew, the eccentric, odd mad scientist that lived in the woods at the edge of town, and then there was another, completely new facade. bill cipher, named for his often frustratingly vague double speak and extreme use of overly complicated metaphors (yes I’m giving bill’s name a reason, it sort of annoys me that theres no reasoning for hyde’s name in the book but thats a rant for another day).

to begin with, bill seems content with simply switching back and forth at ford’s will, being the way for ford to kick back and let loose with no fear of the repercussions. at least, until ford begins to have trouble getting back to himself. thats when he begins to doubt the true intent of his other self, of bill. its around this time he calls fiddleford. the man may have studied engineering, but in this world he also knows a little something about psychology, and paired with his brilliant mind, ford’s very precise notes of the situation (ahem the journals ahem), and the fact that hes basically ford’s only friend, it felt like the best course of action.

of course, in actual gravity falls, ford does his best to hide bill from fidds but here bill is exactly why ford called him. anyone else would’ve called him crazy, tried to experiment on him or worse, but fiddeford would never do any of that and ford knows it (just to be clear, I do think that if I ever wrote anything for this au college fiddauthor would be heavily implied here).

fidds does his best to help but when bill goes on a rampage one night, going so far as to kill the heir to the northwest family, preston northwest, he knows ford is beyond fucked (just a heads up, the person bill kills being preston may change but idk, we’ll see if I ever actually come back to this au haha). the reason fiddleford originally makes the memory gun in this au isnt for himself, its actually to try and erase the memories of what bill has down from the townspeople’s minds. the only problem is that the next time they see bill all of the memories return and everyone is back at square one. its just too much for fidds, and he begins to turn the memory gun on himself in an attempt to get rid of the fear, pain, failure, and regret that helping his friend brought him.

ford on the hand is mortified by what hes done. I highly doubt that there would be a confrontation type scene, it would be closer to how the book goes, where ford quickly begins to be unable to switch between stanford pines and bill cipher. the au would probably “end” (as in if I turned this into a fanfic/comic/whatever the story would end there) with ford figuring out where stan is, calling and begging him to come up to gravity falls and help him, before ultimately turning the memory gun on himself and ridding himself of “bill” once and for all.

the only problem is that in order to remove bill, he has to remove stanford pines and all that he is as well. now, we all know how this goes in both the show and most aus; stan or ford or whoever it is that is possessed by bill erases themselves/has someone erase them, is weirdly blank for a bit but ultimately regains their memories. well here it… wouldnt work like that. bill(/hyde) is an integral part of ford(/jekyll), to remove bill(hyde) is to remove stanford pines (jekyll), theres no way around that. so, ford sort of ends up in that “blank slate” state for the rest of his life. he called stan prior to erasing himself because he knew stan would take care of him no matter what, and he was right. for the rest of their lives, stan takes care of his brother to the best of his abilities, and while they never get to sail the seas together, and some nights bring unimaginable sorrow for stan, knowing he’ll never speak to his brother again, despite the fact that very man sleeps just a few doors down the hall, they make it work. ford (or, well, whats left behind when you remove everything that makes a person who they are) sees that his blankness hurt stan but he cant do anything about it, and to begin with almost avoids stan, at least before they finally have a talk in which stan reassures “ford” that he’s sure whatever reason ford may have had for erasing himself, it was worth it.

as for fidds, well it mostly works out in a similar way to canon, he does eventually regain most memories but of course some bits are still fuzzy. the fuzzy bits are never fully recovered, as the one person who may have been able to fill in the blanks no longer exists, but fidds is still mostly alright.

the journals… sort of exist? but not in the way that they do in the show, and what does exist stan had from the very beginning. ofc the twins still have to deal with monsters and spooks and whatnot in gravity falls, just not anything that has to do with bill (which means that, of course, weirdmageddon physically cannot happen). at some point, dipper begins to insinuate that the weirdness of gravity falls might have something to do with “ford’s”… situation, which is when stan finally fully comes clean with all he knows about the situation. its not until fiddleford begins to regain his memory, however, that any of them learn the truth of what was going on.

oh yikes, I wrote a lot more for this than I meant to, whoops!

oh yeah, I’m naming this au the “Dr. Pines/Mr. Cipher” au for now, but if anyone has any better ideas or if thats already been used for something else, please let me know!

also, @aaabatteryy I LOVE MARINEFLAMES’ CONFRONTATION ANIMATIC, THAT WAS ACTUALLY WHAT I WAS REFERENCING WHEN I MENTIONED OTHER ANIMATIONS USING A SIMILAR CONCEPT TO THIS AU

oh, and I just want to say that I’ve never watched the musical so thats why this doesnt (intentionally) incorporate any elements of that.

[amaryllis-sagitta]

Final thoughts on Solas after DATV 100%

So, after beating 100% I think it kinda gets better in the 2nd half of the game, but there's some moments where the Solas Experience feels just a little off... though it might sound nitpicky to those who enjoyed their time.

For the entire Act 1 and half of Act 2 I felt railroaded into hating Solas. Full on. The first 2 memories gave us an idealized picture of the rebel leader who's ready for sacrifices. Then the third memory destroyed that picture by showing how far Solas had gone in his sacrifices. That moment imo felt a little off because when Felassan pleaded to Solas, he looked so... smug. Then, midway through Act 2, it got a little better. After killing the first Archdemon, my Rook "earned Solas's respect" and their conversation felt sincere and much more on an equal footing. Then, the dinner with my Solavellan Inky who swore to save Solas shed some light on his motives. This section felt better because it didn't feel railroaded anymore, but more like a true exchange of perspectives, and there I felt I can change my mind, and even change Inquisitor's mind. That dinner with Inky gave me all I was missing - a chance to confront someone who had good information. Because Varric's advice has been trite and useless, and for a very good reason. So we were going off the opinions of people who only knew Fen'Harel The Warning.

All of this said, I feel like the reveal of Varric's death jumped the guns justt a little bit in bringing out Solas's trickster nature. I would have preferred if my Rook was given a chance to fail in that moment - to have a breakdown after they lose their first/ mandatory companion, for Solas to intervene then and do his thing. Then he could've come in with the same cold assessment that Rook can't make it. It wouldn't have hurt his treacherous characterization imo, because he still hid from us that killing Elgar'nan just like this would also tear down the Veil.

What puts me off just a little bit in that moment was how Solas is completely torn about some regrets and mentions others almost off-handedly, like tricking Rook is hardly a regret for him. I sincerely wanted to tell him to shove it when Rook got the dagger back in Minrathous.

Then, when we have made it after all and escaped the Fade prison with the power of Friendship, he wants to butter us up again and we are suddenly the best person to wield the dagger? I admit, I didn't suspect to see a moment when Solas would be... cowardly in such an unelegant way. But maybe that's how it's supposed to be? Maybe that's how much he feared Elgar'nan at the end of it all?

What follows re: Fen'harel's fight with Lusacan the Archdemon was 11/10. Sexy Dread Wolf form taking blows for us, almost dying several times and needing help? I LOVED the constant red herrings in Veilguard's "suicide mission" that kept me on the seat's edge about blorbos!

About Solas/ Mythal... I am still a little mad that an emotionally tethered, terrified victim is forced to face his abuser and be released by her to get his closure, that he needs to be told that HE IS FORGIVEN. BY HIS ABUSER. FOR THE CONSEQUENCES OF ACTIONS CARRIED OUT FOR HER SAKE... But on the other hand, no-one else indeed could have reached him and ridden him of the guilt about Mythal. He was too stubborn to let go by himself.

Many of us wanted a scene of Solas ugly sobbing as he experiences release from at least a part of his burden, and we got it.

So all in all, I feel the experience is a little bumpy in some moments but overally... more or less adequate?

[eirakairos]

Rendezvous Chapter 2

You were supposed to have a rendezvous with him away from the shackles of the city. You were supposed to tell him great news. He was supposed to have a rendezvous with you and be away from the shackles of reality. He was supposed to tell you great news.

A/N: I continued writing after but I liked the end part. I often think Sylus doesn't fully cry, but for the first time, he was a bit emotional from the dream, especially after what happened.

It took a while because I was busy with work and family but I'm working on the next one!

Words: 3,004

Chapter 1

Tags: Hurt/comfort, minor violence, and injury, character death implied!, pregnancy and childbirth, don't worry this is angst but with happy ending

You inhaled sharply with a groan when you reached consciousness. Everything in your body is screaming in dull pain. You were supposed to be out of the office to meet with Sylus then BAM! You heard a pitched noise piercing your eardrums as everything pristine suddenly turned into rubble. You tried to fight your consciousness as everyone was screaming for help, you knew Sylus would be there for you. But before you can move further, a pair of arms carries you and before slipping further, you hear their rough voices.

“Give her first aid! She has to be alive enough for the transport!”

“Finally! After so many weeks! We can use it to take over the grasslands into our empire!”

You hear the humming sounds of the engine and speeding. You glance at a nearby window and assume you are in a plane, as there is nothing but the night sky, the moon illuminating, and a few clouds. You are still in your hunter clothes but without your weapons. You think that maybe the people who brought you here were the ones who took them.

‘This chamber, I felt I was here before…’ you thought. You looked around the dark confinement around you. A memory started to resurface.

“This was one of the Onychinus ships we use for the transportation of goods,” Sylus said as they were walking in the ship. “It is an old model, but still useful,” he followed. You were looking around in wonder as you were there with him for an errand.

“What are you going to do with it?” you asked. “A faction under Onychinus was needing one,” he replied. “This ship has a lot of issues since I used to use it a lot.”

“Like what for?”

“I… Modified some things so I can deal with things easier,” Sylus grinned. Your eyes squinted. He pointed at an enclosed room, similar to where you’re now. “Like in this one, I made a pathway to get out of the halls.” He walked to the room and removed a panel, showing a form of door access. “It's not detected easily unless you know it's there,” Sylus went in the pathway.

“So a sort of escape plan, it seems. I feel you’ve been in a situation where you get jailed in your ship,”

“Well, there are such circumstances that happened,” he smirked and went closer to you. “If things fail, this would be handy.” He tapped on the crow brooch you won against him after he challenged you.

“Huh? I thought this was just a decoration?” You said.

“It's not just access to N109 Zone safely, Kitten,” he smirked.

You quickly went to the back of the room and gently touched the panels installed.

And indeed it was removable. You placed the panels on the side and went in before putting them back on again.

You are in no condition to fight as you meticulously try to sneak out of the halls. You hear murmurs in the far end going closer and making you panic, looking for any place to hide.

“Onychinus is making moves far more aggressively than expected,”

“Who knew that the leader’s weakness… is a woman?”

You quickly went to the metal cabinets where they would put clothes as their steps got louder.

You clenched your fists, they probably had heard of the Aether Core in your heart and wanted to take advantage of it. Sylus has one too, but they won’t dare to face him. You can fight them because of their comments but you’re on the shit end of the stick at the moment.

“We are almost there after two days of traveling in the skies. I’m so beat,”

“When we arrive, we are going to put that girl in the operation to extract the Aether Core if Sylus didn’t go to our demands,”

‘As if, even without Sylus, I will bring you all down,’ you thought. You peeked through the small slits of the cabinet to see them walk away and turn to the next hallway. You slowly went outside and walked to the other side of the hallway. You are trying to remember the map of this ship as you sift it in your memories.

“Does this ship have any last defense?” You asked. You are walking in the same halls as him. He was checking to decide if the ship was good enough to be given.

“Well… If exploding itself is what you call a last defense… Then yes,” He replied. You were surprised. “There are bombs in this ship?!” You exclaimed. Sylus grins as he goes to a security panel…

And you punched the code, it was your anniversary date with him. It opened a slot, it looks like a circular item should be placed in. You shuffled around your body to find the crow brooch he gave you in your secret pocket. You inserted it in the slot and it shines red, accepting the brooch. “Self-destruct will start in thirty seconds…” a robotic voice confirmed. Alarms are heard as you panicked again, running through the exit.

“High-security alert! The subject has escaped! High alert to all personnel!”

“It is not just a crow brooch…” You said. Sylus smirked as he closed the panel after showing it to you. “The brooch is… for really special guests,” he continued. In nearing the wide exit, he went to open the hatch. Gusts of wind suddenly burst inside, almost swaying your body away.

“What- What are you doing?!” you yelled.

You open the hatch as the footsteps are getting frantic.

“Well, we are going on to the errand a bit different this time,” he said as he tossed over a parachute backpack to you. “Huh?!” you yelled as Sylus carried his on his back. He went on you to adjust the backpack and grabbed you by the waist.

“Ready to escape this hellhole?” Sylus asked as you got dragged to the edge of the hatch.

“Six… Five… Four…”

You ran to the hatch as the men saw you and started to shoot.

“Remember we need her alive!”

You were afraid because the drop was so high. “Well, I have no choice, aren’t I?” you said, nervously smiling at him. “You are stuck with me after all… Don’t worry, I’m with you,” he reassured. “If you get lost, I will find you,” he continued. You held onto him tighter as you two jumped together.

You suddenly feel the weightlessness of the sky as you jump. BAM! You shielded yourself from the debris as you saw the ship go into flames. At the appropriate height, you activate the parachute as you gently glide down, you see neverending grasslands below you. Your adrenaline is starting to go lower, and the pain is starting to be more felt, especially since you just saw a gunshot wound on your side. Exhaustion is starting to take over you as you unlatched yourself from the parachute and looking around, realized you are in the middle of nowhere. Everything is overwhelming, even though on the good side you escaped but otherwise, you have no idea what was happening, only to put pieces together.

Before you can react, your body was unable to keep active any longer. You wish your love was here with you, he would know what to do.

“Sylus…” you murmured as your vision got blurry and completely went dark.

You stir and see yourself inside a hut. You do feel tired, but the pain is survivable.

“Good day, finally you gained consciousness,” You looked at who was speaking, who was an old woman, cooking in the makeshift kitchen. “How are you doing, dear?” she asked after placing a bowl of soup beside you.

“Where am I?” You asked. You’re still a bit disoriented. “Who are you?”

“You are in the grasslands,” she answered. “The warriors had found you collapsed while they were hunting. They brought you here for healing. I am the healer and advisor in my tribe,” she said. You looked at the bowl and scooped it with a spoon. You are starting to wolf it down, making the old woman amused. “My assumption is right, you were famished.” she smiled. “Based on the peculiar clothes, you came from a far place, didn’t you?” she asked. You stopped and nodded. “Yes, it was a long story,” you said. You did retell the tale from your point of view. The old woman listened eagerly. “It seemed you have endured so much, dear,” she spoke.

“How… How would I get out of here to return?”

The old woman sighed as she went to the cabinet. “Well you have to travel for five days to get to a nearby village, then traverse further around two days more to get to the main city,” she said. “But we are nearing the hibernating season, where we don’t travel because the journey are being perilous,” she continued. “You needed a longer recovery time. In the meantime, do stay and rest.”  You were disappointed, the travel is going to be long. But you have to return… Back to him. She gave you fresh clothing, which is simpler than your tattered uniform. You noticed the robes and the accessories were very familiar. You suddenly remember you are in the grasslands. The hut looks different, much modern but familiar.

The old woman is working on her table, with her herbs, roots and stones ready. “Also, Miss, I would like to ask something,” she spoke. You hummed and looked at her.

“You’re pregnant, aren’t you?”

In the following weeks, your wounds were healing well but you have gone sicker occasionally. You slowly acquainted the women in the village and do help with menial, lighter tasks since you are carrying a baby… Sylus and your baby. It just sunk to you. You were in the office many weeks ago, getting your things ready to go on a special date with him. You were exiting the floor when you just felt being blasted away. You were excited to go with him and tell the good news. After grueling weeks, you were looking forward to being with him again. You are having this indescribable feeling, that it is probably better that when you can return, you won’t come back as a hunter again. So much time was wasted, even just spending time with Sylus. You missed him so much, you wanted to return but your pregnancy was very delicate, especially after your body went to the limit because of the explosion and the kidnapping. You wish he would find you again soon.

“Miss, are you alright? Why are you crying?”

You stopped your thoughts. You just saw your hands on your tummy and felt tears rolling down your cheeks. You quickly wiped it away. “Sorry, it's probably the pregnancy,” you chuckled.

The ladies were calmed and continued weaving robes. You are trying your best to gain weaving skills, but it was a bit more complicated than you expected. You were amazed the ladies were doing it very well and fast. 

You are almost on your way to your pregnancy several months later. Your belly is very obvious now and nearing its due. “I’m glad to see the baby is strong,” the old woman said. “It shows that she is a fighter like her mother,”

“Wait… She?” you said, astonished.

“Well, that is my assumption, based on your appearance, the shape of the belly, and what I see in the stars,” She hummed. You are half believing and not in the other. You imagined a baby girl in your arms but has Sylus’ hair color and eyes or your colors to a baby boy. You smiled at the thought, you would love them anyway, as they are half Sylus.

“What about the father of the baby?” the old woman asked. I won’t be surprised if it takes long to find you if he does,” she continued. We are really in a remote place, and people who come by to the tribe either have a purpose or a fated coincidence.” There was silence for a bit. What is he like?” the old woman curiously asked.

You believed in Sylus, he would find you wherever you go. He has always done that since you’ve met him. “He is a formidable warrior. A… Leader in his tribe,” You answered. He is despite the environment of his place is the opposite of the grasslands. “Despite the comfortable life, he did… Has his bargains and sacrifices, especially whenever I’m involved,” you followed. In peaceful times like this, you did wonder if abandoning everything with him would be worth it. “I hope he would find you sooner, dear… Does he know? It would be quite a surprise if he didn’t,” she smiled. You looked down on your belly. You were going to, as you got a confirmation hours before the meeting. You were excited to welcome a little being, half you and half him.

You were resting beside the hut as you saw young ladies making little pouches. You remembered the dagger and when you were transported to the grasslands with Sylus. You remembered the tribe’s culture of a girl giving a pouch they made to the man they liked. You gave one to Sylus, which you hope he still keeps it. You suddenly felt this longing for him, questioning why is he not here with you, anxiety sets in that probably he had forgotten about you and moved on. It’s been a few months, if his stalking skills were good, he should’ve been here by now. Are the grasslands that remote? If he were here, he would know what to do, much better than yourself. You wanted him here beside you, being happy and ecstatic to meet his little one soon. You miss his company, his eyes glaring at you, his protectiveness wherever you go, you feel… Much helpless and lonely here.

Sylus sees himself in the endless field of grass as he wonders where his dream is taking him this time. He had been having nightmares since you were gone from the explosion in the Hunter’s Association months ago. The investigations had been slowed and people had moved on, but not him. He searched the nearby cities everywhere and took revenge against any people connected to the tragedy. The job was far from being done, they took you away, and he will take away the world from them.

Sylus kept on walking until his eyes widened, he saw you sitting under a tree. You are in a tribe as you are wearing similar clothes like them. He runs as fast as he can, he didn’t have such dreams as this, as seeing you alive and… Pregnant? This is definitely a dream, his dream of just wanting a family with you, you carrying his child, making the limited time witness of your love together. He was going to but it seemed a far-fetched wish now. You looked so beautiful as always but much more in reaching motherhood.

You didn’t have any reaction when he was already in front of you. Your eyes were looking at the distance, almost teary. “Sylus…” He heard you whisper. He called you but you seemed to not be hearing him.

Suddenly your face contorts in pain. “What’s wrong?” he asked but you screamed more, alerting the tribe members. He wanted to comfort you and give aid but whenever he tried to touch you, his hand goes through. He realized that you were going to give birth, and he followed you as the people helped you to get back to the hut. The healer prepared the childbirth as you were huffing and started to push. Sylus felt helpless, he wanted to reassure you and be at the most comfort despite the situation. “My beloved, you’re doing good, don’t worry…” Sylus whispered beside you. He wished he can hold your hand, to somehow deal with the minuscule of pain of your grip. He whispered support and reassurances to you, even if this is a dream, he is angry at himself for not being with you. In real life, he still tries to find answers, even though in logical circumstances, you are not alive anymore. His heart beats in happiness seeing you here, despite it is only an illusion.

A cry stopped his long mile of thoughts as it felt it was hours. You are a fighter indeed in his eyes. “It is indeed a girl!”

You are exhausted, far, far much worse than dealing with a horde of wanderers. You heard stories about childbirth and it is scary and painful as they said. You heard the cry of your baby, she is alive and finally arrived here in this land. You cried as you saw the baby girl and held onto your arms. You also heard that childbirth is a rewarding, unexplainable blissful feeling of seeing a piece of you and Sylus merged into a tiny human. You are a family, despite him being away. You know deep down he would be here if he knew.

There is this protective and proud feeling to Sylus in seeing you and your child together. A little family of his own, and he is now a father, even if it's only in dreams. He went to kiss your cheek, he wished you would feel it. But you are crying in happiness looking at his daughter. He smiled more at seeing his daughter, she had tiny white strands of hair. He would give everything for this to be a reality. He would give the world to his beloved partner and daughter.

His eyes opened and blinked a couple of times, realizing he was looking at this high ceiling, being back to his darkened room as he roused. In the blink of an eye, he lost you two again. He looked at the ring box on his side table, then at the dark red sky in his window, the slimmer of light illuminating tears forming to the edges of his eyes.

[painted--constellations]

woke up from an awful dream and i don’t even understand what it was all about

[sysig]

I think the world is so wonderful... (Patreon)