#second of all i think it's important that the 2 blur. 'you are the man in me' lestat is an extra appendage to gabi

[feedingicetothedog]

if that is gabrielle in those storyboards and she's a brunette i will be a bit disappointed tbh. like i think it's important that her and lestat look a lot alike to the point where he becomes her male avatar to go out in the world and do the things she wants to do (before he makes her into a vampire and then she can do it all herself w/o him)

[biahouse]

Important, Gregory House x Reader

(This is my first story on Tumblr, and also my first Gregory House story. English is not my language, technically all of this is Google translate, so I apologize for any mistakes. But I hope you like it, I have a lot of ideas about our crazy doctor)

You love House. He doesn't care about anyone, but he cares about you. That's something, right?

The first time you met Gregory House was at your job interview.

You knew House's fame in the medical field, so your dream was to work with him and learn about his somewhat orthodox methods.

What you didn't expect was to be completely enchanted by the man 15 years older than you. House was moody, irritating, stupid, arrogant. A card-carrying asshole.

But there was something that made you suspicious every time he entered the diagnostic room. However, you weren't the only one.

You were good at hiding your crush on House, but Cameron always let it be known how much he liked his boss and what deeply upset you.

You were nothing compared to Alisson Cameron. Cameron was beautiful, kind, hardworking, confident. Everything you could never be, even if you tried hard.

That's why you shelved your feelings, buried them at the bottom of your chest and tried to hide as much as you could.

3 years have passed since you joined the team, and now with the departure of Chase, Cameron and Foreman, you were the only original member and House became more and more dependent on you. You have now done the work of four people.

And like a good doctor, you did your best to treat every patient who arrived at the department in the best way possible. But it was exhausting you.

The dark circles became increasingly prominent. You were sure you had lost 2kg in that week alone, since you didn't have time to eat and your hair fell out more and more every time you combed your hair.

But it was three weeks after you were working almost alone in the diagnostics department that your body reached its limit.

House and you were discussing what could be ailing an elderly man when he came up with a really interesting theory.

As always, you were sent to do tons of tests, but the moment you got up from the chair, your entire body lost consciousness.

“House” you mumbled the man’s name as you felt your entire vision blur.

"Yes?" The man responded, distractedly analyzing the symptoms chart.

"I think I'm going to pass out" was the last thing that came out of his mouth before the world went black.

•••

You heard the machine beep before your eyes could discover the place around you. It was hard to open your eyes, the bright lights of the hospital room shining brightly into your eyes.

You could feel your throat dry, and the various threads clinging to your body. It was uncomfortable and you tried to adjust yourself on the hard bed.

"I wouldn't move if I were you" House's unmistakable voice sounded in the room and his gaze shifted to the man lying on the bedroom sofa. "Welcome to the world of the living"

“Hi,” your voice sounded hoarse and you coughed, feeling your throat raw.

"Here" House stood up at an impressive speed and handed him a glass of water with a straw. You sipped the liquid with relief, your throat feeling better within seconds.

"How long was I gone?"

"2 days" House limped so he could check his devices. "You were exhausted, dehydrated and malnourished. New diet?" The man joked.

"The patient..." You started to get worried about the man they were treating.

"You're impressive" House looked at you curiously. "I tell you she's a living dead woman and you care about the patient."

“I’m fine” You waved your hand at him.

"It's not what your scans say" He shook the folder in his possession. "Why didn't you tell me that you couldn't do everything alone?"

“Because I can do it” You insisted.

"You're going to have a week off, until you can recover. In that time, I'm going to review some resumes, you need help" House said once again looking deeply at you.

"Why? You don't want new people on the team, you hate change" you tried to argue, knowing what the man was like.

"But I care about you. I think that's more important than my distaste for people" His admission scared both of you, but neither would admit it."Rest, I'll be back in a bit, with something called food"

And with that he left the room. Leaving behind your flushed face and your racing heart.

[vasito-de-leche]

;R1999 JOE - "highest of highs, lowest of lows" (1/2)

Joe x Reader 3.6k words hurt/comfort Being part of Joe's gang has its ups and downs, chaos being the closest thing you have to a stable routine, every single day full of adventures. Your friends pulled you from the rubble and into the light, you've been with them through thick and thin─and yet, as the years pass, it all grows stale. Repetitive, even. Tiring. A new era approaches. You're not strong enough to hold on and withstand the whirlwind of change, and neither is he. Even so, your faith in the dream Joe has given to all of Haight Street never wavers. You'll find a way out, together. But only if he's willing to move on.

long time no see! I've been struggling with writing and got very busy, but I also missed writing reader inserts sooooo much and got a little carried away with this one, hehehoho

it's the first half of joe's sleepy time fic, since I'm still editing the second half o7 I'll post that one as soon as I'm done with it. this also means that the comfort part isn't quite here yet LMFAO

as usual, this is written to be read as platonic or romantic, whatever floats your boat!

Just one more revision, and then I’ll take a break … 

The words repeat in your mind like a mantra. This is your only way to keep your eyelids from closing shut, so heavy with sleep and exhaustion. 

Numbers and letters blur together as you scan through the documents laid in front of you; there are bills and more bills, everything necessary to keep supplies coming and utilities working. It’s gotten harder to manage the business lately with the influence of the Chamber of Commerce still lingering over the neighbourhood, and every time you go outside, you notice all the stores that were forced to close, either bought or chased out of town. You think of all the people you used to know and who watched you and the rest of your friends grow up, now lost somewhere in the country, with no means to reach out to them. 

Your entire life reduced to nothing but empty streets and dusty displays. 

But the world keeps on moving, not waiting for you to catch up. And the atmosphere at Tang’s is the same as always─even at this hour, there are people walking in and out, with small groups scattered about in the booths, but also outside, standing under the neon lights, as if this humble diner were the hottest disco in the entirety of San Francisco. Only a small portion were paying customers, but each and every one of them was a familiar face, the friend of a friend, a soon-to-be-acquaintance. 

You have your boss to thank for this sense of community, the man who united all of Haight Street under the hopeful glimmer of his metal badges, a symbol of his friendship and protection. Of course, you also have him to blame for your current situation, forced to crunch numbers and make ends meet out in the open by the bar. 

Tang’s restaurant is an ancient relic with only a single office where the walls are thick and study enough to pass for an office. That is where you usually fill in all the paperwork and where Becket often goes to take a nap, it’s the perfect place to hide for a much needed break and to hold important meetings─today, similar to last week, it is being used for the latter, with Joe stepping up to the plate and dealing with every single investor interested in “supporting the local businesses.” You can’t be mad at him, even with this subtle sense of urgency and nervousness lingering in the back of your mind, you trust in the dream Joe has given to all of you. If there is a way forward, he would be the one to find it after weeding out all potential dangers.

The sudden, pulsating pain of an incoming headache makes itself known right behind your eyeballs, causing you to cover your eyes. As you apply a gentle pressure and rub soothing circles in slow motions, you allow your mind to rest from the constant stream of red on the documents. You trust Joe, you believe in him. You have to, even if reality continues to knock on your door in an attempt to wake you up from this fleeting dream. 

But how long can this dream last? You all need the sort of help that cannot be gained through camaraderie: money, an investor to keep things afloat, a stable income. 

Everyone knows better than to approach you tonight. That little corner by the bar is your territory, your own personal battlefield; with your disheveled and exhausted appearance, nothing but an empty cup and those piles of documents to keep you company, they all know better than to interrupt. Even so, you still manage to give a friendly wave or a nod whenever someone new calls out your name in greeting. The sound of someone pouring you a drink pulls you away from the chaos of your mind; Sputnik refills your cup with a batch of hot, fresh coffee─the scent reaches you and you thank her with a smile, one she timidly brushes off before delighting you with one of her signature, happy, little spins. And just like that, she floats away to attend the other customers. Of course, her presence doesn’t go unnoticed. Her shift ended hours ago, with no way to pay her for the extra hours or longer shifts, and yet, she remains by her own volition. 

Your eyes drift to the documents and the ocean of red greets you. You wish you could offer her more than a misery of a salary. While you have friends like Pioneer who can offer good insight every once in a while, he is much too idealistic. And the rest are doers, not thinkers. The only other person who would’ve easily tackled the issue from the root … 

Paulina, the little genius of Haight Street. She would’ve known what to do if she were here. 

But she isn’t here anymore, and this isn’t the right way to miss someone. You need to get her out of your head. 

The pleasant heat of your coffee helps drown any unwanted feelings, it burns your insides with a rejuvenating spark, the warm hits your nose and cheeks. Things might be bad now, but you are currently surrounded by the constant sound of lively chatter and the occasional round of laughter. In the crowd, you spot all of your friends; Becket and Hollick, Mercuria and Pioneer. Maich the Peddler catches your eye and raises her glass, a toast in the name of this small community and a small gesture to cheer you on. Bianca sits nearby too, perched on one of the many stools. 

Seeing everyone like this is enough to set your heart at ease from these anxieties. You have all made it this far, supporting everyone in need and feeding as many hungry mouths as possible and if things go well, you won’t have to worry about living paycheck to paycheck.

What follows, however, is not a relaxing night but a series of interruptions, each worse than the last. 

Just as you’re about to take another sip, the office door slams open and you feel someone rushing past the diner and towards the door. Turning around, you recognize that sharply dressed man struggling with the broken door handle as the latest investor Joe promised to take care of, the one he was supposed to make a deal with. He promised. He promised you that this man would walk out of here with a smile on his face and one less suitcase full of money in his possession, but your eyes lock onto it, that hefty suitcase dangling around in his grip as he fumbles about. In your impulsive attempt to stop him and mediate, all you manage to do is get into Joe’s way; he blazes past as well, oblivious to your presence, and knocks over the cup in your hands. 

It falls unceremoniously on the bar, spilling its contents all over your clothes and, most importantly, your hard work. The papers quickly turn an ugly shade of brown, soaking in the warm drink dripping from the counter. And this goes unnoticed in favour of the screaming match between your boss and the business partner that never was, the people in the diner joining the commotion in support of their leader. You don’t even process Sputnik’s attempts at salvaging the documents, eyes glued on your best friend’s back. 

“─And you know where you can shove all those fat stacks of money?!” Joe barks out, that typical and endearing cockiness turning into the bane of your existence as he severs that last thread of hope for the diner. He doesn’t need to finish, of course, the investor has left─you can hear the roaring engine of his car outside, speeding away.  Your heart drops at this.

“Tch, serves ‘em right!” Someone comments, you don’t care to know who. A different person adds, “Hey, boss! You’re slacking off, took you 2 hours to scare off this one. That’s 20 minutes more than the last one.” 

“... J, Is that what you’ve been doing all this time?” Even though your avoid raising your voice, shaking with something you can’t quite place amidst the tight, claustrophobic pressure in your chest, everyone hears this and the diner grows quiet.

“Hey, gimme some credit, would you? These damn suits keep gettin’ more and more annoying, this one wouldn’t shut up about─” Joe stops as soon as he takes in your sorry state. His expression softens, hands hovering over your coffee-stained clothes. “Shit. That was you I hit on the way out? … Here, let me help.” 

Out of the corner of your eye, you spot movement; Pioneer and Mercuria have stood up, intent on helping you out of this sticky mess. But you gently shake your head at them, fearing that more people in your personal space would only serve in pushing you further to the edge. It is already overwhelming enough to have Joe pat awkwardly ─uselessly, even─at your shirt with a napkin, it is hard enough to keep yourself from lashing out at him after such careless display. Still, you manage to rest your shaking hands over his own, gripping onto the leather of his gloves like a plea for help. 

“You promised me the deal would go smoothly.” Voice dropping to a whisper, you force this out without choking in your own grief. It feels silly to feel like this when Joe is looking at you like nothing is wrong. “You─You should’ve taken the deal, J.” 

“We’re not charity cases, we can manage without them, just like we’ve always done, yeah? It ain’t nothing new.” The reply is firm, and yet you can tell he’s trying to find a middle ground with you, anything to keep this from escalating. 

At least he knows he’s in trouble with you. Thus begins the same old song and dance. 

“Maybe improvising worked the first few times, but it’s not going to work forever.” You push forward, still attempting to regulate your breathe. Joe pulls his hand away from yours and continues to dutifully rub the stains of coffee away, a feat both of you know is futile. “We need the plan B before shit hits the fan, not after.” 

He pushes forward as well, brows furrowing and avoiding your gaze. “C’mon, and let those rich suits look into our lives so they can feel better about themselves? To brag about how they help the poor and needy? Let them try to change the way we’ve always done things?” A scoff. “As if. Tsk. This damn stain won’t go away─!” 

“They can pretend to be Mother Teresa for all I care, as long as we get to keep the diner and pay the bills.We’re not doing well, it can’t be any worse than what will happen if we keep things as they are, Joe.” 

Joe, not J. This detail causes him to momentarily flinch, and he finally gives up on this useless task of cleaning you up. It’s only when he slams that used napkin on the counter that he notices the rest of the mess. Joe searches for something in your eyes, he doesn’t find it─or you won’t allow him to─and only then you gain the upper and the right to truly escalate the fight. Unbeknownst to you,  the rest of your friends have begun to clear out of the building─they know better than to get involved. One had to match Joe’s own temper if they wanted to be truly acknowledged by the blacksmith. He might’ve learned how to bend the metals to his will but those close to him learned how to fight fire with fire rather than walk around eggshells around him. 

“You’ve rejected every single person who offered to help. Sooner or later, there’s gonna be no one left to give a shit about us, and we’re already in the negatives!”

“If shit hits the fan, we ask help from others.” Before you can deliver the perfect rebuttal at his hypocrisy, he interrupts as if seeing your intentions from a mile away. “Help from our friends─not the government, those gangs, those rich assholes or the Foundation. People we know we can trust.” 

“Fine. Then what happens when no one else can spare a single bag of groceries or a single dollar for us? What happens when none of them can put their livelihoods on the line anymore because we all have damn bills to pay?” You extend a hand towards the papers, already dissipating. “How many more favors can you cash in before we run out of changes? We’re not getting by just for us five or six anymore, there’s a whole damn group that depends on us now! You heard the sheriff! Everyone carrying these little things? The people they don’t like seeing out in broad daylight? They’re our responsibility now, you’re not a rebellious kid playing around in the streets anymore!” 

You tap on the metal badge pinned to his chest with a little more strength that you intended, this small act gets under his skin because the next time he speaks, he’s screaming. “You think I don’t know that? That I need you to remind me?!” 

“Someone has to with the way you’re acting.” 

“Look, I’m sorry that I bumped into you and ruined the whole thing, but if you’re mad about that, then just say it. Don’t bring up other shit just to pick a fight with me.” 

“You’re trying to pick a fight to get out of the fight I’m trying to have with you right now, what are you, five?!” 

“Funny you say that! ‘Cause I sure wasn’t the one who decided to have this argument out in the open!” 

“You’re being stupidly stubborn.” 

“And you’re being stupidly paranoid. When have I ever failed us, huh? Name one time.” 

One? You can name more than one, you could name as many as the wounds and bruises he’s earned in the name of protecting this community. All the days he’s spent in jail, all the beatings he’s taken, all the meals he skipped so that someone else could eat, all the dangerous stunts done in the name of pride─to you, someone forced to look on as the entire weight of the world is placed on his shoulders, these are all shortcomings. Things that could’ve been easily avoided if he simply listened. But here he is, looking down on you, playing the role of hero because it’s all he’s ever known. But he can’t keep doing this, not to himself, not to you or the rest. 

If she’s not here to stop him, then you will. 

“The day you let Paulina go.” 

It takes everything in your body not to cry the moment those words leave your mouth, hitting their target with a hint of resentment you didn’t think you had in you. 

Joe staggers backwards, his expression shifts; he’s no longer the savior of Haight Street, but your bright-eyed and impulsive neighbour, the tallest kid in the block bragging about his latest feats, the kid in trouble failing to jump over the tall, metal fences, the nosy teenager getting involved with the wrong crowds. An arcanist born in the wrong place at the wrong time. Vulnerability paints his features in a way you recognize, the same pain you’ve experienced throughout your life. The subtle quiver of his bottom lip, although imperceptible to the rest of the world, claws at your chest and knocks the air out of you. 

It hurts more than any punch, any insult, any slice of the knife. It feels cruel to steel your gaze after dropping something like this out of the blue, with Paulina’s departure still fresh in everyone’s minds. But you tell yourself that you have to, if only to prevent anyone else from disappearing on you like that. You can’t handle it, not knowing when will be next. One more business closed, one more child abandoned, one more friend missing. Doesn’t he get tired, too? Isn’t he tired of this happening over and over? 

“That’s unfair. No, that’s … that’s messed up. What is wrong with you tonight?!”

“Did you even listen to her? Or did you just decide that she was wrong from the beginning and ignored everything she had to say? Isn’t that why she refuses to even pick up the phone? Or even answer any of our letters?”  

 “She has nothing to do with us anymore, there’s no damn point in bringing her up when she’s left us for a bunch of stuck up─”

“This isn’t about how you feel about her new life.” When you stand your ground, taking a step forward towards him, he does the same. 

“Then what the hell is it?! Why would you even bring her up in the first place?!” When he pounds his fist on the counter, you do the same.

“Because it’s the only way to get you to fucking listen, J. It’s about the way you act, how you keep throwing away every chance we get at making things better because it always has to be your way! You go on and on about asking each other for help, but when was the last time you actually listened to me, to Hollick, to Pioneer, to any of us?! If we can’t even feed ourselves, then how the hell are we going to feed everyone else? You told me to run the numbers, I ran the damn numbers and this is the shitty hand we’ve been dealt.” 

Suddenly, Joe’s shoulders begin to shake as half a smile, half a grimace settles on his face. He laughs at you, bitterly, mockingly. The type of laugh that can only carry a single message─I know better than you. 

“Those investors, they’re only here because they smell the blood in the water! Can you guarantee that they won’t pull the plug once they see an opening to take everything from us? When you sign those damn contracts, it’s over. That’s how they get trap you. That’s how they take advantage of good people like us. I’ve spent the past few weeks doing nothing but talk to these assholes, and not a single one of them gives a shit about this restaurant or the people here. Wanna know what they all wanted to talk about? Bulldozing the entire thing down. Getting me to convince all our friends to give up their homes and businesses, just so these fancy jerks have all the space in the world to play with.”

You know he’s right, it’s an awful truth you have to acknowledge in the midst of the argument─the Tung Ch’ing Chamber of Commerce did the exact same before, it’s stupid to think that others wouldn’t follow the same pattern as well. And yet… 

“Then throw Pioneer into the damn room when someone else comes to do business with us! Let me, Becket and Hollick be there with you too, damnit J! You have the entire fucking street cheering for you and all you want to do is fix everything on your own! If you weren’t so stubborn, maybe we could even call Paulina and ask her for help, but you’d rather sit here and argue with us about the same damn issue! You’d rather look at us in the face and say that Paulina looks down on us, when you don’t even have the balls to call her! Is that how you want things to be? When I can’t keep paying rent, when I have to hop on a bus and end up who fucking knows where, is that all you will say about me?” 

Silence settles. The hesitation lingering in the air hurts more than anything he could’ve said to you. 

Is that all you are to him? Another naive mind, a nagging voice devoid of any worth? He would rather say goodbye to you and allow the distance to slowly chip away at your friendship, than listen or consider any of your suggestions and ideas. Your arms drop to your sides, suddenly losing every ounce of strength in your body at this sudden realization. The shock on your face must’ve been something if it causes Joe to flinch in surprise. 

You’re tired, so very tired of living in uncertainty; never knowing when you will have the chance to eat, never knowing when your friends will disappear off to greener pastures or silently deported. So tired of fighting for scraps, of living in shadows, of being so close to making a change for the better but having it all ripped out of your hands by a government that doesn’t care. You’re tired of fighting the world and your friends. 

You’re so very tired of being so insignificant in a world that refuses to make space for you, no matter how hard you try to claw your way out of the rubble and poverty. 

And so, you retreat. 

Maybe it’s the last remnants of pride keeping you together, maybe it’s the debilitating exhaustion permeating your bones, but you manage not to stumble and fall over as you brush past him and make your way outside. 

The pair of siblings which you had grown to love so much used to share a dingy room within the diner as children, back when Tang ran the place. And then, one day, you moved right across the street. Throughout all of your childhood, you believed this to be a gift, being able to rush over to play with them as soon as you woke up, and to wave at them from the balcony of your apartment at night. Your best friends, your new family, your new home, all within reach. 

Now, you cross the street knowing very well that there is no place for you to hide from those piercing blue eyes of his. You don’t want him to look at you, not like this. Not as an obstacle and a burden. 

If only you could run far, far away. Just like Paulina did.

[s-sturn]

𖥔 OPEN ARMS!

part 2

summary: where Chris begins to keep Y/N away from his life after thinking he no longer wanted Y/N, then the girl decides to leave him after getting so tired of the relationship, making Chris realize that he was totally wrong.

warnings: angst, little fight, SADDDDD!!, swearing, regret, crying!!

masterlist!

Y/N’s POV

Chris was going to go out once again with his friends, leaving me aside as he has been doing these last few weeks.

He has been taking me away from his life for days, sometimes messing with his phone while telling something interesting about my day, he seemed much more interested in sending torpedoes to his friends than in hearing me speak.

All that was tiring, I see Chris finishing fixing his hair and sending a message to a friend of his who would be with him at this party, he left the room not even making a point of saying goodbye.

My mind was surrounded by thoughts, I felt that it was no longer important in the brunette's life, and that he didn't love me anymore and that he could even be with another girl.

Tears began to wet my pink cheeks, while I felt empty and alone, thinking that I lost the love of my life, and that now I would have to leave it.

I fell asleep in the middle of my thoughts, waking up the next day without feeling the presence of Chris by my side, leaving me so hurt.

I got up from the boy's bed, sitting on the edge, taking a deep breath and cleaning my face as I always did.

I leave my boyfriend's room going up the stairs of the house, reaching the kitchen, meeting the triplets.

I give a kind smile when I see Nick and Matt saying good morning, I would expect something from Chris, but he is as usual, on his phone.

━━━ How about we go out to eat? After all, none of us have anything to do. ━━━ Nick asked everyone at the table, while Matt and I agreed with our heads and I soon turn to Chris

━━━ I have things to do today, Nate invited me to another party and I'll go. ━━━ The brunette said arrogant getting up from the table and leaving for his room, where he would stay there, for a long time.

I get upset and irritated, making me get up from the table and go down the stairs to the door of Chris' room, I hit that piece of wood several times, soon coming away with Chris' angry expression.

━━━ Stop! That's fucking annoying! What do you want? ━━━ He said angry and rude, making me incredulous about the way he talked to me.

━━━ What the fuck is that, Chris?! You keep going out to parties, ignoring your brothers and me, who am your girlfriend! ━━━ My tone was angry, very angry.

━━━ What a drama, Y/N! I'm just having fun! ━━━ He rolled his eyes slightly as he crossed his arms

━━━ But to have fun, you need to kick me out of your life so much?! ━━━ After my question he was quiet for a few seconds, thinking about what to say.

━━━ Maybe. ━━━ My mouth fell, I couldn't speak or say anything, tears threaten to fall, but I didn't let them fall. ━━━ Maybe I don't even love you anymore. ━━━ His tone was arrogant and cold, I didn't recognize him anymore, the tears that threatened to fall finally wet my face, flashbacks come to my mind, reminding me of my first date with Chris, our first kiss, our first "I love you", our first look.

I didn't believe that the man who said he loved me so much, gave up the love he had on me, I sighed closing my eyes, while he took his attention to my person and returned to the phone.

━━━ So, I'll let you go, we're done. ━━━ My tone was crying, I left the bedroom door going up the stairs without looking back, my vision was blurred by so many tears accumulated on my face.

Nick and Matt asked what happened and I just replied that we had finished what made the two brothers go into shock.

They knew that Chris was the love of my life, that I wanted to marry him, have children.

I quickly said goodbye to the two of them leaving the house quickly, getting into my car and going back to my apartment.

I felt an inexplicable emptiness in my chest, an emptiness that Chris filled, my heart was broken, I didn't feel like doing anything else, just lying in my bed and sleeping for days and days, and when I woke up all this was just a horrible nightmare.

I thought at what moment he stopped loving me, at what moment I stopped being his girl, my head exploded, while my eyes looked like a waterfall.

CHRIS’ POV

It's been exactly 2 months since I last saw Y/N.

She cried so much, and I didn't comfort her as I always did, I caused her the pain and I never noticed it.

As soon as I heard the words she had left me, I bitterly regretted what I had said, I just wanted to run after her, hug her, kiss her, and beg for her forgiveness while saying how much I loved her, even if for a stupid reason I had hidden and denied these feelings.

For some point in my life, I felt that my relationship with Y/N was too good, which made me scared of everything ending and I ended up hurting myself again, so I pushed her away and denied my feelings, causing an inexplicable pain in both of us, which for some reason I had never noticed, I went out to parties and came back a lot in the afternoon, I always saw her lying on my bed, sleeping peacefully, it made me feel so guilty, for thinking that I really didn't have any feelings for her anymore, and that morning when I said those words I regretted it in the same second.

I felt so much guilt to the point that I didn't feel like doing anything else, I didn't want to eat or talk, I just grabbed the only blouse there was of Y/N in which there was her smell, I slept calmly, thinking she was there, and when I woke up and returned to my reality, I cried like a baby.

I can't stand the way she is missed anymore, her touch, her smell, her kiss, I miss everything about her.

I regret so much that I let her go.

I hated this thing sm, omfg 😭😭😭 And i’m so sorry if this post has spelling mistakes!

taglist.

answer this post if u want to be in my taglist!

[popcornforone]

I’ll Make An Exception

A Frankie (Catfish) Morales Fic

Day 20 of Pedrotober

Masterlist

Ooooh so you all liked soft Frankie reading Fink did you (im publishing this now I’m home from my second viewing of The Wild Robot in 48hs) well today you get a bit more of the menace that we all fantasise about. God he’s talented.

Synopsis:- it’s the morning after you met a hot stranger at the bar.

Word count:-1100

Warnings over & above:- most of this is done by messages to each other, masturbation,naughty photos suggesting activities, sexual tension, swearing, alcohol, hook up friends with benefits.

Thanks for giving this a read my loves. As always please thank @alyssamariag & @norththelemon for setting this up.

Had the night before been a blur, or did it happen? You weren’t sure. You knew you were overly tired on this Sunday morning. Not actual hangover that made you dash to the bathroom to be sick but you did have a small headache. Past you knew this would be the case for Louisa birthday & you had a bottle of water & some painkillers by the bed, past you knew future you would need them. You’d also clearly had not been that tipsy as you had got home, locked the house up, taken your make up off & changed into your sleep shirt. That blue & white stripy one. Yet as you laid there thinking about if you should get brunch, you also felt happy. Like something had happened the night before.

That’s when your 11:30 emergency alarm went off. You knew you didn’t want to sleep in & not get any sleep before work on Monday on Sunday night. You’d learnt from past mistakes. As your hand reached to turn it off it stopped. This made you sit up in bed & reach for the phone.

Unknown number

1 message

You swiped & clicked & your eyes widened.

Morning beautiful, hope you got in okay last night 😘

It floods back. The handsome man at the bar. The one with the dirty cap that looked older than him. The stray locks & curls trying to escape it. Big brown eyes. Soft large hands. A grey shirt & jeans which well showed him off in all his glory.

You lie in bed & smile. Your friends know you often don’t like guys to flirt with you at bars, but you signaled to them that this one was fine. He had started out nervous, but from your memory you remember a gently kiss on the back of your hand, you kissing his beard patch, & vaguely remember grabbing his phone to put his number in, before your girls dragged you to the next bar for their happy hour. Your eyes lingering on him for as long as you could. Your blushing right now thinking about him, when the next message pings through.

If you don’t remember me that’s fine, but I just want to check your okay.

You smile & reply to him.

Morning, I’m alive not hungover how are you… frankie?

Your being honest when you ask that, something in the back of you mind just clicked that this was his name.

Ahhh I’m so glad you’re alright, & yes I am Frankie… how many guys did you give your number to last night? You know he’s starting off soft but you can tell from the messages & how you body feels as you think of him, that he could be the right kind of trouble for you.

Just the one, he was kinda cute & shy, I liked him. You can’t see frankie blush as he reads that message.

Lucky him, so I didn’t scare you off?

No 2 for 1 cocktails are clearly more important to my friends than my dating life

Which is?

Until last night none exisitant

& now?

Possible

So you think I’m a good dancing partner?

Whoever said we’d go dancing?

I mean in bed?

You almost choke on your bottle of water at his reply, he’s being forward now he’s realised you’re up for it. It’s not usually what you go for but you are enjoying this. Your arousal growing, tempted to get out your vibrator as you message this handsome stranger from the night before.

Well that all depends, I like whoever I bed to take me on a date first

Ooooh so dinner before desert

Yes

Hmmmm & what would I wake up to each morning if I decided to peruse this. You then quickly snap a selfie not caring how bad your hair is & send it to him so he can see you sleeping in the sleep shirt. Frankie has to palm his cock instantly once he receives the photos.

Any panties under that?

Yes, a small red thong

Damn it baby

& you frankie? What does a smoking hot pilot wear to bed. Your turn to receive a topless selfie, you lick your lips looking at his good body, his chest you want to bury your head in as you bounce up & down on his cock moaning his name as he grabs your arse & he tells you to be a good girl. Your own hand goes to your clit.

Hmmm nice view

I think mine would be better. You then do the ultimate power move & take your thong off & send him a photo of it on the bedroom floor.

Well I’m sure that’s a view you’d like to see.

You fucking tease

You started it

Did not

Did too 🤪

You go back & forth with this. Your pace picking up. He’s asked you if you like someone in control, if you shut your eyes when you cum. The friction unbearable & you moan in a voice note going fuck yes. You have know I dear that this send him over the edge too. Frankie cums all over his hand. A waste he says to himself. After all the self pleasure he then send you one final message.

What if you turned your location on right now to your phone? What would happen?

I dunno come round & find out. You turn on your location & then hear nothing at all for 15mins. You lie there damp & ready to be ravaged by a man who you know nothing about other than he likes to pull a girls hair as she sits as his reverse cow girl.

Then the door bell goes off & you walk downstairs to open it. There in the midday sun stand frankie, he’d clearly thrown on what was near him, long shorts with paint stains on them a grey tshirt & that cap. you stand there still in just your night shirt & look at him.

“Hello handsome”

“Hi does this count as a date?” He asks as he clicks his keys to make sure his truck is locked & you can see his other hand is over his manhood trying to not cum at the state of you in a bed shirt that just about covers your bum.

“No but for you sexy”You wink & grab his hand”I’ll make an exception”

You drag him into your house & lock the door & he pushes you up against it. Clothes fly off everywhere as what was going to be your lazy Sundays for recovery becomes one of the most passionate afternoons of love making in your life.

[drewsbuzzcut]

Forever Doesn’t Measure

mat barzal x model!fem!reader

a visceral in doses fic

Part 3 here

warnings: angst, crying, pregnancy, small argument, and I think that’s all

You sit at the island bar, basking in the sweet sounds of Nolan laughing along with Mat. He’s laid out on the rug, the boy playing with cars and using Mat as a racing track. All while AJ is sleeping peacefully in the pack and play. It transports you back to certain moments of happiness, moments you wish you could always live in.

You make eye contact with Mat and it’s like he takes a skinny dip inside your mind, because he gives you a longing smile. You can see it in his eyes that he knows what you’re thinking about.

The peace doesn’t last too long when AJ wakes up in tears; it’s his feeding time. You’re quick to settle on the couch, your baby boy nestled in your arms under a blanket, happily sucking away. It’s your last month of breastfeeding before weaning him off, knowing that he can’t just not visit with Mat during his allotted time.

You focus on Angel’s blond hair and soft cheeks, distracting yourself from thinking about how you were once a married mom, but now a single one.

Mat’s body sitting beside you on the couch makes you look away from the baby. He peers at you with a softness that you’ve almost forgotten.

“Hey, thanks for inviting me. It really means a lot to be here with the boys and you,” he says, knowing that spending the Christmas holiday together is important.

You honestly didn’t want to because almost 2 weeks ago you were tagged in pictures of him and a girl together, who you assumed was his friend from home. However, the thought of your boys not seeing their father took away all your anger. You didn’t need to ruin their lives even more.

“The boys miss you a lot, and it isn’t fair to them for you not to be here.”

“I miss them, too, everyday. I miss being on morning duty. Believe it or not, it’s one of my favorite parts of being a parent,” he admits. You faintly smile, thinking about all the times Mat would come back to bed with either one of his twins or both.

“You still have morning duty,” you point out, your free hands brushing AJ’s hair to avoid reaching out for Mat.

“Yeah, for like every other week. It’s not the same. Especially because you’re not there with me,” your heart hurts at his words.

“Is this your way of saying you miss me?” You tease, desire taking over when your hand reaches out to brush his hair away from his forehead.

“Of course I miss you,” he says simply, holding your hand in his. The way his thumb sweeps over your knuckles is pure bliss.

You tilt your head towards him while letting it rest back against the couch, eyelashes fluttering and eyes glued on him. Your innocent looks breaks him down into mush.

“I miss you, too,” you say, growing shy and looking down to avoid his stare. He only guides your face to his, lips connecting in a blurring passion. You try to lean into him, but with your baby pressed to your chest, it’s kind of hard. Mat does the job, though, scooting close to you to the point you’re practically wrapped in his arms.

Your tongue seeks entrance to his mouth, prodding the seam of his lips to make its way to dance with his tongue. You have the innate need to explore his mouth as you haven’t done so in a while. He feels the same way.

“Daddy! Daddy, look!” Nolan’s shouts make the both of you jump away from each other, in a state of shock at what just happened.

“Wow, little man! That’s so cool,” Mat clears his throat before complimenting Nolan’s favorite toy that he’s showing off.

“Um… I need to burp Angel and put him down for a nap. I’ll be back,” you mutter before scurrying upstairs.

The second you’re gone, Mat notices your phone going off, and without thinking about it, he picks it up to see who messaged you.

Tito: Happy holidays! I’m so glad we finally got to see you and the boys. Angel is perfect. I miss you guys. Hopefully we can have another visit soon.

Mat frowns at the message, not aware that you flew to Vancouver to visit Anthony.

“AJ went to sleep right away. I swear I can just watch him sleep all the time,” you gush, not knowing what you’re walking into.

“You went to Vancouver?” He asks immediately, catching you off guard.

Your mouth opens and closes, truly not knowing what to say.

“Um… yeah. I took the boys to go visit Tito and Emma. It was only for a few days,” you say softly.

“How could you?” Mat asks incredulously.

“What’s the big deal?”

“We were supposed to introduce Angel to them together,” he reminds you of the detail you stupidly ignored.

“Well, we aren’t together anymore, so it shouldn’t matter,” your voice is in a whisper, hoping that Mat will get the hint to not yell.

“It does matter. He’s my best friend, not yours,” he spits out.

You fight the tears willing to slip down your cheeks.

“I’m tired of you saying hurtful things to me! I’m tired of you breaking my heart,” he tells you.

“Breaking your heart? What about the girl you went on a date with? Huh? That friend from home? Yeah, I saw those pictures of you two together,” you inform him.

“It wasn’t a date! She is a friend from home, one that has a girlfriend, but I guess you didn’t see her in those pictures. And what does it matter if I was on a date, we’re not together anymore,” he throws your words in your face.

Your hands gravitate to your stomach out of instinct, holding on to the soon to be last piece of Mat that you’ll ever have. You can feel your heart cracking, knowing that most of this is your fault. You’re the one to blame.

“You’re right. It doesn’t matter. You’re free to date whoever you want. I’m sorry for saying hurtful things to you. I don’t hate you, I hate myself. Excuse me, but I think I’m going to take a nap. I’ll be down in time for dinner, just please watch Nols and keep an ear out for Angel,” you whisper, voice hoarse and ego crumbled.

You drag yourself upstairs, heading to your closet to pull on a large hoodie that you sneakily took from Mat before you moved out. Undressing out of your outfit, you put your hair up in a messy bun, and cuddle into your bed. Sleep takes over your body in less than a second. You hope you have dreams of your family being all together again.

Mat’s upset with himself for making you cry. To keep the picture of you heartbroken out of his mind, he starts completing miscellaneous tasks around the house, something he knows you’d appreciate. He’s lucky to get Nolan down for a nap even if it’s for 20 minutes. He takes a load of laundry upstairs to fold and put away. As he’s putting some of your clothes in your drawer he finds your paperwork confirming your pregnancy. To say he’s shocked is an understatement. A flurry of thoughts rush through his mind, tears starting to cloud his eyes at the secret you’ve been keeping. He’s not upset with you for not telling him, but at the fact that he has been missing out on the journey so far.

He exits your walk-in closet, coming face to face with your sleeping form. No one can stop him as he strides over to what would be your side of the bed- you’re asleep on his side -and lets his body sink next to yours. You’re on your side, facing away from him, so once he settles he nudges your body to turn into his hold. Your face connects with his chest, an arm holding onto him while one of your legs tangles with his. Eventually you end up on top of him, the natural instinct taking over. Besides, his warmth is to die for.

He allows his fingers to card through your mess bun; the urge to comfort you, strong. He watches your features as they are contorted into something resembling peace. You never see it, but Angel and Nolan look like you when you’re asleep. Both boys share that same blissful smile with you when sleep takes over. Mat first noticed it when Nolan was around one year old, and now he sees it all the time.

Light, pounding footsteps alert Mat, Nolan is making his way to the room.

“Mommy?”

“Mommy is sleeping, buddy. What’s up?”

“I hungry!”

“I know. We’ll start dinner in a little bit. Why don’t you lay with me for a bit,” Mat makes enough room for Nolan to cuddle with you both, you ending back on Mat’s side, facing him while your arms are still around him.

His eyes start to sting, thinking about another baby with you. He is so excited. His hand travels to your stomach, alerting you in the process. Your eyes pop open and you stare into his beautiful eyes. You know he knows. It’s as if anything but you touched your stomach, you immediately go into protective mode.

“Another baby, eh?”

“Another baby,” you confirm. He just smiles, eyes closed and lips closed, but the smile is so happy and a little smug.

Your one arm falls to rest around his waist, relishing in the small contact you have with his bare skin from where his shirt rides up.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I couldn’t,” you shake your head fast and repeatedly, swearing away the thoughts of telling him before this moment. “I just couldn’t tell you. We had just broken up, and I was so shocked about the news. I just didn’t want to disappoint you even more. Even Tito said I should wait,” you say rushing through your words.

Mat’s face falls and for a minute you’re confused until you realize why. You told Tito before Mat.

No no no.

“You told Tito before me?” He asks surprised and hurt, immediately getting up and your hand latches into his waist to keep him close to you, but he’s stronger and upset. He rips himself out of your hold, disturbing Nolan in the process.

He stands, pacing a bit, one hand through the hair and the other rubbing at his neck. Those actions stop when he realizes Nolan is watching his every move, so he picks up Nolan as if he’s a protective blanket, constantly playing with his hair and kissing his head.

“Don’t be mad at Tito, please. It was word vomit. I didn’t mean to actually tell him,” you explain.

“But you still did,” Mat finishes, walking downstairs and leaving you alone with more guilt than you can handle.

You stay in bed for no more than 10 minutes, forcing yourself to get up and attend to Angel. Once he’s all changed and settled, you make your way downstairs. The air is tense beyond measure. Mat is prepping the kitchen, but takes over with AJ to let you cook as he isn’t the best.

From the time of cooking and preparing to eating, everything is silent except for the scrapes of the utensils against the plates and chewing.

Mat sits across from you, holding Angel in his lap. He’s so small compared to Mat’s arms. You start to think about just how much time Angel is missing out with him and vice versa. That’s how it’ll most likely be with the new baby, too. You don’t even realize your tears are falling until Mat is seating himself next to you to comfort you. You can only push yourself away from him. You don’t deserve his affection.

“I love you. Don’t push me away,” he whispers in your ear.

You only shake your head in response, and for the rest of dinner, you’re both silent, just watching the boys.

As you and Mat clean up around each other, you ponder how things should go from here. How will it work with you being pregnant? At the sink, you feel his arms cage you in. His tall, strong frame surrounds you. His breath flows out his mouth and down the back of your neck. You ward off the chills that sensation brings you. His head leans down, forehead resting on your shoulder. His hands move to rest on your stomach. It’s at that moment when you break down completely. Your body goes limp as your silent cries take over, but his body flows seamlessly with yours, so he has you in his hold before you hit the ground.

“Don’t do this, Mat,” you say.

“Don’t do what?” His face frowns in confusion, eyes searching desperately for yours for a clue.

“Don’t forgive me or love me just because I’m pregnant. I don’t want you to be with me for the sake of the kids,” you sob out.

“What about wanting to be together for the sake of us? I love you and I will never stop loving you,” he says so sure.

You turn to look at him when you feel droplets hitting your blouse and soaking your skin through the fabric.

“You’re breaking my heart. Please don’t,” he mutters.

“I love you,” you say for the first time in what feels like forever.

“I love you.”

“I want to be with you. Please. I want you. I want our family. I fucked up so badly. I don’t hate you. I love you. I overreacted about the whole nanny situation and I’m a fucking mess, but I need you. I want you,” you practically chant as you break through your stubborn walls.

“You didn’t overreact. I was being an asshole. I’m sorry. I love you. I want you. I want our family,” he says, sealing his lips to yours. It’s a kiss that can bring you back to life. A kiss that only gives you that fleeting emotion. A kiss that only Mat can give you.

“Mommy?” You hear Nolan calling out for you, so you break away from Mat.

He looks at you with a hint of worry, but more loving than anything.

“You ‘kay?” He forces himself between you and Mat, your face held in between his little hands. He looks at you with a look that you’ve only ever see on Mat when he’s making sure everything is good.

“Yes, baby. Mommy is okay. Mommy is happy,” you breathe a sigh of relief, knowing that you aren’t lying anymore. Pulling yourself off the ground with help from Mat and your little man, you bring all your boys into your arms on the couch. You feel like you can finally breathe again.

You and Mat make eye contact once more, fighting and breaking through each other’s walls- even though yours are more of a struggle to get through. You hate the way you treated him over the few months of separation, but there is nothing more healing than love being shared, love being felt, and love being created.

a/n: I’m so sorry this took long, but I hope you all love it! Thank you all for all the love and kind words<3

taglist: @literatureluster

[halosdiary]

Tsubaki | Rōnin!Toji series | 呪術廻戦

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5

Summary: Toji Fushiguro is a ronin denouncing the Zen'in name. The clan did not take too kindly to being humiliated and decided to set him up.

Word count: 733

Contains: Violence, Gore, Sexual themes of some sort.

a rōnin was a samurai who had no lord or master and in some cases, had also severed all links with his family or clan.

The ronin was being displayed for all to see, beatened and bloody facing the death penalty for the murder of his late wife. A murder he never committed. It was all a blur, one minute he was happy married with his wife and newborn son. The next moment, his son was crying and wailing in his room, while he screamed at his wife's lifeless body.

"Please, wake up!" He shouted, tapping her cold cheek.

"My love, you have to wake up, please. I'm begging you." He hugged her body and cried silently into her body. 

"Don't leave me..."

He gently lied her body down as he heard multiple footsteps coming this way. He felt numb, and could not move his body what so far to defend himself. All he could wonder was, why? Why her of all people? Still numb, he didn't even know he was already on the ground. He blinked for a second and he saw a crowd of people. A man above him with a kitana and a wakizashi sword in front of him.

They were waitng for him to end it all. He is seeing his life flash before his eyes. All be can remember was that clan. That damned clan.

The Zen'in clan is the most "prestigious" family in all of Japan. They along with 2 other big families are responsible for keeping things in line for the country. All seemed well in the clan until it wasn't. A man born disgraced by his own clan. Not living up to the promises of his father, he chose the way of the ronin. He wasn't as lifted as his elder brother was, but still there was something about him like lacked Zen'in.

The man was in his own, no support from anyone. He soon fends for himself. He's done this for a long time,  untill he met his late wife, Himawari. She was the daughter of a local swordsmith. She'd seen him every now and then, give him some food, water and eventually shelter.

"So, do you have a name? Or should I call you the mysterious man?" Himawari giggled.

"It's not that important.." He dismissed the conversation.

"I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours." She offered.

"You're determined aren't you?" He asked Himawari. He chuckled a bit and looked at her.

"Toji."

It was all the ronin could think about, until he heard his son crying from a distance. It was when he immediately jerked himself back and frantically looked at the executioner and audience with those feral green eyes of his.

"What are you doing?! Stop him!" A man yelled out.

Toji dodged the executioner swings with his kitana. He gripped the wakizashi sword and jammed it to his juggler, slicing his neck. The crimson coming from the executioner's neck was coming out at a rapid rate as he fell before the people.

People were screaming and panicking as Toji jumped down from the stage, and walked over to the other men who were holding his son. He didn't say much to know they had something of his and he'd like it back. They didn't hesitant giving him his son back. Toji gently takes his son, and just walks off.

No one was stopping him after what he did to that executioner. They don't know whohe is or where he came from. But all they do know is, he's not someone to fuck with.

News about this ronin spread and it spread FAST, it even got to the place of pleasure, Yoshiwara. Other women whispered to themselves about the strange man.

"Did you hear?"

"He slit the executioner's neck and blood was EVERYWHERE!"

The whispers were everywhere, it was fascinating at first but now it was annoying. There was individual that was just looking in the mirror. They had the look of annoyance about this ronin guy. They checked if everything was settled for their shift.

"Alright Y/N." You said. "Let's get these shitty clients out the way today."

"Y/N! Let's go! We've got men out here for company!"

You frowned heavily at the yelling, and for some reason, you blame your family for putting you in this position.

"The next time I see my father, I'm slitting his throat."

TAGLIST: @ryomens-vixen @littlemochabunni @lowkeyremi @bleach-your-panties @blkkizzat @buttercupblu

[skyholly]

The best kept secret

Summary: What if Moiraine had a baby daughter she and Siuan were forced to leave to Anvaere to raise as her own?

moiraine/siuan

Chapter 1 here!

Chapter 2 here!

Chapter 3 here!

Chapter 4 here!

Chapter 5 here!

Chapter 6 here!

Chapter 7 here!

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

Chapter 8. Guinevere

With a simple blow of her lips, Lanfear sent them flying through the portal, and Guinevere instantly felt the warmth and powdery feeling of the sea engulfing her. She let herself immerse in it, calmness washing over her. Water had always had that effect on her, ever since she could remember. ‘My little guppy’, her father used to call her, she remembered with fondness, before the memory turned blue. Torvin isn’t your father. 

And Moiraine is my mother , Guinevere thought, closing her eyes under the water, salt prickling her lips. I should’ve realised before . Her mother’s… Anvaere’s —she had to correct herself— reluctance to talk about Moiraine, her uncanny resemblance to the woman, her dreams as of late … It all was so obvious, so plain to the eye. She felt so stupid, so deceived. How did I miss it?  How didn’t I realise? Why was it kept away from me? How did so many adults consent to it? Why do I feel so sad? Why do I feel relieved? Why do I feel so resentful? How could Moiraine care so little for me? How could she not wish to see me at least once? Why didn’t she care? Why does she still not care—? Her thoughts became overwhelmed by a piercing pain in her head, as if hammers were banging on it, as her lungs suffocated in water. She was drowning . She briskly opened her eyes, salt burning on them, as her arms desperately reached for the surface, when a strong hold grabbed her from her armpits and hastily pulled her out of the water. Guinevere took deep, desperate breaths, coughing water away from her lungs. 

“Burn me!” Lan complained, water up to his chest, as he carried her to the shore. “Haven’t you been taught how to swim?”

Guinevere was so dumbfounded by the question, she hesitated for a moment before answering, staring at the man with an irritated look on her face. “Of course I know how to swim,” she scoffed, as he placed her on the ground, her feet warming up at being slightly buried in the hot sand, “I was just… thinking.” 

“On how drowning would make for a fitting end?” The man mocked her, making sure her stance was steady before letting her go. 

Guinevere creased her eyes in astonishment. “Aren’t you supposed to be the quiet one? The brooding one?” She silently remarked, annoyed, crossing her arms against the wet fabric over her chest. Guinevere glanced around and saw nothing but water and sand. They were in a desert that stretched to the ocean’s shore. This isn’t Falme, she realised, anxiously snapping her head around. How did we end up here? Her mind was a blur of memories, and she was confused for a second, before all the recent events came rushing back to her. 

Lanfear almost killing her felt like a dream, something unreal, but the tightness of the silver linings pressing against her skin proved otherwise.

She’d also attacked the Amyrlin, and Guinevere had tried to help her, before Lanfear furiously dragged her into the Ways. 

Guinevere was enraged at the woman. She curious about why she hated her so much. Moiraine was curious about her dreams. 

Lanfear opened the portal to Falme. 

Lanfear thrusted into her brain, her mind drowning in painful realisations. She admitted them three being important, that they all had a role to play still in Falme.

Lanfear sent them flying through the portal.

But they weren’t in Falme.

What is Lanfear planning?

Guinevere kept on looking around, when her eyes stumbled upon her aunt Moiraine — your mother, Moiraine — away from the shore, studying their location. “Where are we?” She asked the Warder. 

“I don’t know,” Lan confessed, “but we better follow her.” He said, pointing towards the Aes Sedai. Guinevere glared at the older woman, feeling her skin burning with all fury and rage and resentment and sadness and curiosity bottled up on her. 

“Guinevere—” Moiraine whispered, raising her hands in surrender, with a tiresome look on her face, at the sight of the girl marching towards her with menacing steps. 

“Why?” The girl asked dryly, stilling in front of her, biting her lips to prevent tears falling from her eyes. Every breath felt like stale air as she waited for Moiraine’s response. “Why?”

“Guinevere…” The older woman sighed, shaking her head, “you were never supposed to—”

“Why?!” She insisted, forcing the older woman into a guarded position. 

“I-I-I had a mission,” Moiraine stuttered, her eyebrows frowned in trepidation, “a duty towards the—”

“Why?!” The young girl’s whimpers interrupted her. “Mother or aunt, it makes no difference, why did you ignore me all those years? Why did you never look for me at the White Tower? I was right there.”

Moiraine pursed her lips into a thin, harrowing line; her eyes creased with grief,  “Guinevere, is not that easy to explain—”

“Did you ever stop to think about how neglected I would feel? How alone? How I’d grown up hearing Barthanes’ stories about our impossibly funny, caring, exceptional aunt only to find out she was anything but that?!” Guinevere sobbed, her words pouring out of her mouth in a torrent of anger. “At first I had made peace with the fact that you simply remained  permanently away from the Tower but to learn that you actually visited it regularly and you couldn’t look for me even once —”

“It was too hard, Guinevere!” Moiraine barked, anger seething through her teeth. “Getting close to you would’ve endangered the whole mission, which is the reason I left you with your aunt in the first place!” She kept on screaming, but she immediately regretted speaking to her in such a harsh voice. Moiraine tried to approach her, taking gentle steps towards her, arms reaching for the girl’s hand, but Guinevere backed away, roughly brushing the bitter tears away from her cheeks, leaving an almost invisible trail of sand over her face. 

“Where are we anyway?” She sniffed her crying away, crossing her arms over her chest in an indifferent motion, studying her surroundings. “Do you even know where Falme is?”

The older woman stared at her feet, and shook her head, before raising her gaze towards her, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “Guinevere—” Moiraine insisted again, reaching for her. 

The young girl sharply pushed the woman’s arm away, and took a few steps back, maintaining the distance between them. “I don’t want to talk about it, alright?” She snapped, overwhelmed. “It’s… I’m… I’m just…I-I-I need some time. To think, alright?” She looked at Moiraine, and gazed into her eyes, as blue as the midnight sky , before the older woman nodded. Guinevere mimicked her gesture, pursing her lips in discomfort. “Do you know where Falme is? We need to get to Rand.” She urged her. 

“It’s that way,” Moiraine replied, gulping as she pointed toward what appeared to Guinevere to be an endless desert. Despite her doubts, Moiraine’s confidence made it hard for Guinevere not to believe she knew what she was doing.

“Alright, then.” Guinevere bit her lip, casting a final glance at Moiraine before resolutely heading in the direction Moiraine had indicated. She walked in haste, eager to make some space between her and the pair. Guinevere could feel the sand shifting beneath her feet, water tickling her ankles, the sun beating down on them mercilessly.

Her mind was a storm of emotions. She almost wished Lanfear had stayed quiet, that she could remain oblivious to the truth. Knowing her aunt didn’t care for her was one thing, but realising her own mother had refused to acknowledge her existence for so many years… That the only reason Moiraine had reentered her life was because of the Dragon Reborn. The sting of that revelation cut deep.

Guinevere tried to empathise with Moiraine’s situation. It couldn’t have been an easy choice to leave her behind. At least, she hoped it hadn’t been. But bitterness and anger furiously overpowered any sentiment of sympathy she might have felt. She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms as she came to a halt, and closed her eyes, feeling the water at her feet, letting it wash some of her anger away. 

Moiraine did what she thought was best. She made sure you grew up in a loving family. She had a difficult choice to make, and did what best she could. She assured herself. But was it even? The sneaky thought creeped into her mind. A difficult choice? Guinevere snapped her eyes open, the sun blinding her for an instant. She couldn’t make sense of her own emotions. She wanted to slap and punch and hurt her for neglecting her all those years. She stood in awe of her, for remaining so dutiful. She resented the fact she’d considered the mission more important than her. She hated that she couldn’t help but love the woman nonetheless. 

She turned around, and saw the pair less than half a mile behind, almost embracing each other, a silver weave of the One Power circling them. They’re bonding again , Guinevere realised in astonishment. She wasn’t jealous of their bond; rather, she felt a deep curiosity for a connection she had never known. She’d never taken on a Warder, as she didn’t want to have a man following her around all day, and besides, most Yellow Sisters didn’t take on Warders, as they weren’t really needed. But she’d always been intrigued on what it felt like. For nineteen years, Lan had been Moiraine’s Warder. Guinevere wondered what that meant for her. Was he there the day she was born? Was he even her Warder at that time? She shook her head in frustration. They needed to get to Rand. She focused her sight on the front once more, and began walking one again. 

Ahead, the desert stretched out endlessly, the horizon wavering in the heat. Guinevere’s thoughts were so consumed that she barely noticed when Lan caught up to her.

“Slow down,” he urged gently, his tone softer than before. “We need to stay together.”

She glanced at him, her expression hard, and then sighed, her shoulders sagging. He was right, of course. As much as she wanted to run away from Moiraine, she knew she couldn’t afford to be reckless. Not now.

“Fine,” she muttered, slowing her pace but not stopping. “But I’m not ready to talk to her.”

Lan nodded, understanding in his eyes. “Take your time. Just don’t wander off.”

As they continued, the terrain began to change subtly. The sand became firmer, as mountains started to rise by their path. After a while, Moiraine caught up, maintaining a respectful distance behind Guinevere. The silence between them was heavy, laden with unspoken words and unresolved emotions.

As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the dunes, Lan suggested they make camp for the night. He built a small fire, the flames flickering against the encroaching darkness. “Sit by the fire,” he instructed the two women, “I’ll check the area for any danger.”

Before he left, Lan removed his own cape and gently draped it over Guinevere’s shoulders. “Stay warm,” he said quietly, his eyes full of concern. Then he turned and disappeared into the darkness of the desert, leaving Guinevere and Moiraine to share the warmth of the fire.

The two exchanged furtive glances, the silence growing increasingly uncomfortable, until Guinevere finally broke it. “I don’t think I’m angry, you know.” She said, in a small voice, avoiding looking at Moiraine. “Upset, yes, but not angry.”

“Are you sure?” The woman asked, searching for her eyes. “You’d have every right to—”

“I understand,” Guinevere interrupted her, restless, eager to get this matter over with, “at least I think I do. I would’ve been angrier,” she confessed, “if I believed it was a matter of convenience, but I know now it wasn’t. Or that I hope, at least. You had a mission, far more important than raising a child… You did what you had to do, and I understand that.” 

“Are you sure?” Moiraine insisted, taking her hands, and this time Guinevere didn’t resist her touch. “You can be angry at me, Guinevere. Light knows I… you can ask me questions, if you’d like to.” 

Guinevere hesitated, her lips parting and closing as she struggled to find the right words, if there even was such a thing. “I don’t think that’s for the best,” the girl finally said, staring into her eyes, “in fact I wish for things to remain as they are… o-or were. I must admit I am… shocked by this, but it doesn’t change anything for me, not really. I have a loving mother, have— had a loving father, and a happy family and childhood. And I guess I have you to thank for that as well. That you made sure of that.” 

Moiraine squeezed her daughter’s hands, as she pursed her lips, and slowly nodded, fighting back tears. She seemed hurt by her statement, as if she were expecting more of the girl, but Guinevere couldn’t make sense of her emotions. “You’re very compassionate, Guinevere,” Moiraine blubbered, “and I can’t claim that’s a trait you got from me.”

Guinevere abruptly snapped her head towards Moiraine, her cheeks reddening not from the fire’s heat but from embarrassment, action that didn’t go unnoticed by the older woman. “What is it?” Moiraine asked, encouraging her to share what was on her mind. 

Guinevere’s blush deepened, unsure of how to phrase her question. “It’s just…” she began, fidgeting and picking at her nails, “I’ve been wondering… w-what about my father?” Her voice trembled with apprehension.

Contrary to her fears, Moiraine’s eyes softened at the mention of the man. “He was very compassionate too,” she said, a wistful smile tugging at her lips, “and he had a talent for music. A talent you share as well, I’ve been told.”

Guinevere hesitated, already dreading the answer to her next question. “Had?” She whispered softly.

The older woman inhaled. “He’s been gone for a long time now.” Moiraine confessed, gulping. 

Guinevere nodded, guilty about not feeling sad. She had had a father, Torvin, and she had mourned him as such, but this man… her biological father, he wasn’t anything to her. Should I feel sad? I don’t feel sad about him dying, I only wish I could’ve known him. “How?” 

Moiraine pursed her lips into a sad grin. “I wouldn’t know.”

Guinevere only hummed in response, as she noticed Moiraine straightening her posture, and sensed her heart start beating at a faster pace. “There’s something else you ought to know, Guinevere,” Moiraine said, gathering courage, “since we’re already on the matters of fathers and parents and… well, now that you’ve found out that… well, that you’ve found out the truth…”

“That you’re my mother.” Guinevere finished for her, staring deeply into her eyes. Moiraine gulped, swallowing a sob. “Yes, well, now that you know—”

“What is it?” The girl urged her, gently. 

Moiraine took a deep breath, steadying herself. “I had a partner,” she began, her voice trembling slightly, “not- not your father, he was just—”

“It’s the Amyrlin, isn’t it?” Guinevere interrupted her, with the ghost of a mischievous grin on her face. 

Moiraine’s eyes widened in shock, as Guinevere shrugged her shoulders. “It wasn’t that hard to figure out,” she explained, “I was in the Sun Castle and in the Waygate with you both.” 

“Alright,” Moiraine nodded, awkwardly processing the information, “well you should know, Siuan was my partner while… while I was pregnant with you.”

“Oh.” Guinevere didn't exactly understand the dynamic between the three, but she felt she would be stepping over the line if she asked about it. 

“And she is your mother as well, or at least she—I mean we both, regarded you as our daughter at one point. She cares for you in ways she has not been allowed to demonstrate. I just thought you should know.”

Guinevere nodded. “Alright…” she whispered, indecisive. 

“What is it?” Moiraine asked the girl, gently grabbing her shoulder, noting her apprehension. 

“Nothing, it’s just… What do you mean by ‘at one point’?” 

“Oh.” 

“Hm.” 

Moiraine turned her head, her eyes staring deeply into the fire. “I meant that at one point we did consider raising you, before the prophecy came down on us and we had to choose otherwise.” 

“So you were happy?” She asked, unsurem her heartbeat starting to race on her chest. “About me?”

“Of course we were!” Moiraine exclaimed, turning towards her, embracing her hands. “We both were excited and longing for you, you shouldn’t doubt that, not now or ever.” 

It was Guinevere’s turn to swallow a sob. “Alright,” she whimpered, “thank you.” 

“Oh, Winnie…” Moiraine whispered, placing a hand on the girl’s face, tenderly brushing her cheek, when they became startled by a figure walking towards them.

The two of them stood up in alert, Moiraine reaching for the One Power and Guinevere for the knife against her thigh, until their shoulders dropped in relief, realising it was just Lan returning from his rounds. 

“Everything alright?” Moiraine asked him, sitting down once again. 

“Everything seems… quiet. I’ll remain awake, you two have some rest.”

“Alright.” The two women conceded, laying down against the sand, using their capes as covers. The last thing Guinevere noticed before falling asleep were Moiraine’s soft caresses on her hand. 

Guinevere abruptly woke up, with a scream stuck down her throat, her agitated chest rising up and down at an uneven pace. Lan was already by her side before she could notice, putting the cape over her shoulders once again, shielding her from the bitter wind, asking her if she was alright. 

“I-I am—”

“Guinevere?” Moiraine asked, worry creasing her brows as she pulled her into a reassuring embrace. “Was it Lanfear? Did she hurt you?”

“N-No,” the girl muttered, her voice softening as she leaned into Moiraine’s comforting presence, “it was just a nightmare, that’s all.”

Guinevere felt Moiraine sigh in relief before gently holding her by the shoulders, guiding her to a distance where they could meet eye to eye. “Guinevere…” the woman began, her voice shaky, “I need you to tell me about your dreams.”

A blush spread across the young girl’s cheeks. “Why?”

“That does not matter, what are these dreams about?” Moiraine insisted. 

Guinevere cautiously stared at the woman, frustrated by her reluctance to share information. “Does this have anything to do with Lanfear calling me Ilyena?”

Moiraine warily hummed in response. 

“Who was she?”

Moiraine took a deep, quivery breath. “Ilyena Therin Moerelle. She was the wife of Lews Therin Telamon. Brutally murdered by him after he’d made her watch their children die, as the madness had already taken over him.”

Ilyena Therin Moerelle. She was the wife of Lews Therin Telamon. Brutally murdered by him after he’d made her watch their children die, as the madness had already taken over him , the words resonated in Guinevere’s mind. 

She was the wife of Lews Therin Telamon. Brutally murdered by him after he’d made her watch their children die, as the madness had already taken over him.

Brutally murdered by him after he’d made her watch their children die.

Brutally murdered by him after he’d made her watch their children die.

Brutally murdered by him after he’d made her watch their children die.

Those words felt like nails being viciously hammered into her brain. Guinevere widened her eyes in panic, her breathing growing ragged, as realisation fell upon her. 

“G-Guinevere,” Moiraine stuttered, “what is it?”

“M-My dreams…” the girl stammered, “they’ve always been the same. Three little children — my children, somehow— dying in front of me, and I can’t do anything about that. There’s always a man… A man I could never recognise, but ever since I met Rand… It’s like I know it’s him, despite them looking nothing alike.”

Moiraine closed her eyes in resignation, her head tilting the slightest, as she subtly let an exhale out, her face tensing with frustration. 

“W-What is it?” Guinevere asked fearfully, studying the fleeting glances exchanged between Moiraine and her Warder.

“Nothing I would like you to worry about.” Moiraine replied, though her voice betrayed a hint of unease.

Guinevere’s heart pounded in her chest. “You don’t get to keep secrets from me anymore, Moiraine,” she taunted, her voice tinged with defiance.

Moiraine’s eyes flickered with a mix of frustration and resignation. “Guinevere, some truths are burdensome. I only wish to protect you.”

“Tell me.” The girl insisted.

Moiraine clenched her jaw, her gaze steely. “I won’t.”

“Tell. Me.” 

“No.” Moiraine snapped, losing her patience, turning her face away from her. 

Guinevere’s face flushed with anger, as she took the older woman by the shoulders, forcing her to face her. “What do my dreams mean?” 

“They mean that Lanfear’s assumptions are correct,” Moiraine barked, eyes furrowing with sorrow, “you are the reincarnation of Ilyena, just as Rand is the Lews Therin Telamon reborn. Your dreams aren’t nightmares, Guinevere, they’re memories.” 

Guinevere shut her eyes, as she recalled her dreams, the children's screams slicing through her mind like shards of glass. The haunting images of their small, fragile bodies, lifeless and cold, burned behind her eyelids. Each cry echoed in her soul, tearing at her heart, the agony almost too much to bear. She felt the overwhelming weight of helplessness and grief, a visceral pain that twisted her insides and left her gasping for breath. The horror of their deaths was seared into her consciousness, an unrelenting nightmare that refused to fade.

In that moment, a terrifying clarity washed over her. “I ought to stay away from Rand, then.” She exhaled, opening her eyes, which were brimming with tears. 

Moiraine reached for her, and softly rubbed her thumb against the girl’s cheek. “I don’t think the Wheel will give you such a choice.” She said, sorrowfully. “But there’s still time, the Pattern is not yet weaved, do not fright. Rest, for now. I’ll make sure no nightdreams haunt you the rest of the night.”

Guinevere wasn’t sure on how Moiraine could achieve such a thing, but she didn’t comment on it. “Thank you.” She whispered, leaning into Moiraine’s touch. It feels nice. It feels right. 

Guinevere laid down on the sand, and closed her eyes, immediately falling asleep, and nothing but darkness visited her afterwards. 

Lan woke her up at the crack of dawn, softly brushing on her shoulders. Guinevere sighed, feeling warm and rested, and opened her eyes to discover she was huddled against Moiraine. The woman’s presence beside her brought a rush of conflicting emotions; gratitude for Moiraine’s help, confusion over the night’s events, and an inexplicable sense of closeness that both comforted and unsettled her. Anvaere is your mother. 

“Good morning, Guinevere,” Lan said quietly, his voice breaking the momentary silence. His eyes held a mix of concern and something else she couldn’t quite decipher.

“Good morning, Lan,” Guinevere replied, her voice hoarse from sleep. She shifted slightly, trying not to disturb Moiraine, who still slept peacefully beside her.

Lan handed her a waterskin and a piece of dried fruit. “Eat and drink. We need to move soon. I’ll let Moiraine rest some more; she needs it.”

Nodding in acknowledgment, Guinevere accepted the provisions and took a few sips of water. Once the sun sat higher on the sky, the man woke the Aes Sedai up, and they set off towards Falme once again. 

Moiraine led the group, and Guinevere closely followed her steps, finding herself growing more at ease with the woman’s presence. She isn’t so bad , she thought. It would take her some time to get over her resentment, but maybe one day they’d be able to discuss things further, with more clarity. Her contemplations were interrupted as Lan hurried to join them.

“You’re faster than you used to be.” He teased Moiraine, and Guinevere could see a hint of a smile on the woman’s face. 

“Feels like I’m running without buckets on my back.” She joked back. Guinevere didn’t understand what she meant by that. Moiraine remained quiet for a moment, before turning her head towards the man, not slowing down. “You’re thinking about Lanfear.”

The man nodded. “I still don’t understand why he only woke her.” Lan explained. 

“They’re too dangerous, I think, the others,” Moiraine explained. “The Forsaken fought amongst themselves as much as they fought the Dragon. But everything I found out said that Lanfear, Lews Therin, and Ishamael were inseparable before the War of Power…” Her voice trailed off as she caught sight of something ahead that left her momentarily stunned. Guinevere followed her gaze and spotted it in the distance: Toman Head.

“I think I know where we are,” the older woman said, her tone weighted with realisation. “Lanfear planned this.”

“ ‘ Above the Watchers shall the Dragon be proclaimed… ” Guinevere whispered, “ bannered ‘cross the sky in fire .’ That’s what Verin Sedai said. Lanfear wants you to raise the banner, she said so herself. She said we all had a role to play still.” Guinevere resolved. Moiraine nodded slowly, her expression grave with the weight of worry. “But what role do I have to play in all of this?” The girl asked. 

Moiraine pursed her lips in concern. “I don’t know.” She replied, troubled. 

They continued walking at a haste, Lan scanning their surroundings with a worried furrow in his brow, until they were mere miles from the Tower. Moiraine sighed, her gaze sweeping the area, freezing in place as her eyes stumbled upon a dozen boats lined along the coast right beside the Tower. Guinevere followed the trail of her gaze, and noticed silver lining flowing through the boats, towards the top of the Tower, and froze in her place as well, as she exchanged a worried look with Moiraine. 

“Keep moving,” Lan urged them, apprehensive, “there’s watchers on these cliffs. What is it?”

“Shielding.” Moiraine and Guinevere said in unison.

“Are there weaves?” Lan asked. 

“I think it’s Rand they’re shielding.” Moiraine deciphered, carefully studying the threads. 

Suddenly, Guinevere felt a searing pain in her abdomen, so intense that it nearly brought her to her knees. She grunted, clutching her side.

“What is it?” Moiraine asked, her voice filled with concern.

“I-I don’t know,” the girl confessed, her mind rushing into a thousand different conclusions, “but I think… I think Rand has been hurt. I know he’s been hurt,” she corrected herself, “I don’t know how, I just know it.”  

Moiraine glanced at Guinevere, then at the boats, exchanging a meaningful look with Lan that left Guinevere feeling perplexed. What are they thinking? What are they planning? 

“Why?” The man asked. “You don’t know who they are. What if Lanfear put us here for you to do this? What if those ships are full of innocent people? What if it’s not Rand?” Guinevere’s eyes widened in shock. Moiraine is planning to sink those boats. 

“I will let a thousand innocent people die if there’s even a chance that he will live.” Moiraine snapped. “That is what it means to support him, do you understand that?” Lan remained unsure, but Guinevere positioned herself behind Moiraine, with a fierce look on her face, letting it be clear she supported the woman’s intentions. It went completely against everything she’d been taught as a Healer, but she knew there was no other option, as the pain in her gut became more and more intense. Rand’s dying, he thought, desperation creeping down her stomach. 

Suddenly, shouts erupted from behind them, and they turned to see several men on horseback galloping towards them. Guinevere froze at the sight of the horses, as realisation fell upon her. 

“I need one of those horses,” Guinevere abruptly declared, “I need to get to Rand. I know he’s hurt, I can heal him. And we need to remove the shield from him. This is why Lanfear put us here. Mo-Moiraine, you can attack those boats from here.” She said, turning around, but someone’s grip on her arm didn’t allow her to go away. Moiraine’s. 

“Winnie…” The woman whispered. 

“I’ll be alright,” the girl assured her, “I know what I’m doing. And besides, you said it yourself. This is what it means to support him.” 

Moiraine nodded, but was still reluctant to let her go, which left Guinevere with no other choice but to use a certain Talent of hers. She grasped Moiraine’s arms, feeling the One Power's warmth course through her veins, and saw the recognition in the woman’s eyes—she understood but did not resist. “It will make things easier, the mission is what matters most now.” Guinevere explained. Moiraine hesitated for a moment, before easing into the girl’s Talent. 

An excruciatingly long second passed, before Moiraine drew her hands away, straightening her posture, exchanging a meaningful look with Lan. And before Guinevere could even realise, Moiraine was weaving threads of golden weaves and Lan was fighting the approaching soldiers with a precision and determination the girl didn’t even believe possible. Guinevere herself took some of them down, using one of her Talents, which secured her a horse. She swiftly mounted it, and rode towards the Tower. 

She jumped its steps two at a time, until she reached the top, where she stood for a moment in shock. Rand was just by the stairs, laying hurt on the floor, over the arms of a long-limbed, wiry boy with brown eyes, while Egwene was pulling on a dangerous amount of the One Power to protect him from a man’s attack. Ishamael , Guinevere realised, in terror. The man looked at her, recognition flickering in his eyes. 

She allowed herself one more glance at the man, before running towards the redheaded boy. “Rand!” She whimpered, falling onto the ground next to him, her knees scratching on the process, desperately reaching for his abdomen. 

“Gwen,” he exhaled, his mouth curling into a sweet smile as her name left his lips, his eyebrows knitting in confusion. “W-What are you doing here? How did you get here? I thought Lanfear…”

Guinevere hushed him, as she had no intention of paying any mind to his words, as healing him was her role. She was staring in distress at his wound, on the side of his abdomen, exactly where she had felt the piercing pain. Guinevere’s breath got caught up on her throat at the realisation that it’d been performed by a dark weapon. That’s alright, you can handle this, she tried calming herself. She closed her eyes, seeking for the flame and the void, steading her breath and her heartbeat, as she pulled on golden weaves that quickly started to heal the darkened injury. She opened her eyes moments later, to find Rand’s wound cured, for the most of it at least, and more people surrounding them. A tall man carrying a big axe, who she recognised as Perrin, the boy that she had healed at Tár Valon, and two more women she didn’t know. A dark haired one and a red haired one. The woman with dark hair had her hair braided over her shoulder, and was wearing the clothes and makeup of a sul’dam. Guinevere couldn’t puzzle out why everyone was so calm at the thought of such a vicious woman being by their side, but she didn’t have time to dwell on it. 

Rand remained in shock, brushing over his healed injury, as Egwene’s agonising screams reached them. Guinevere took a better look at her, and had to prevent a sob from leaving her lips at noticing her ragged clothing, how scrawny she looked, how pale and fragile. She’s been forced into becoming a damane at one point , she realised, in dismay, fury starting to make her blood boil. 

“Rand, Rand,” the boy who was holding him urged him, grasping how Egwene was growing weaker by the second, “you’re gonna have to do something.”

“I-I can’t,” the redheaded boy whispered, agitated, “I’m shielded.” 

Come on, Moiraine , Guinevere urged her in her thoughts, as tears threatened to fall through her cheeks, we need you… I need you now, mother.

**********

Author's Note: Alright, only one chapter left! It'll probably be published next week. I must say, I wrote this in a haste and it has NOT been proofread at all, and english is not my first language, so please please comment on any incoherences. There's only one chapter left, before an epilogue, which I'll probably take a long time to publish since I will use the time bewteen the last chapter and the epilogue to do some HEAVY editing, but that will have to be after finals. Again, I hope the decline in comments it's not due to the story being a dissapointment, and if it is, please tell me what you wished would've happened different, or in which direction you would've liked the fic to go to. Thanks for reading and commenting, I appreciate it a lot, and I hope you enjoy this rather messy chapter!

Chapter 9 here!

[menacing-menace-rat]

Platonic yandere justice league part 3 final

Part 1 Superman, Batman, and Wonder Woman

Part 2 Aquaman and Green Lantern (John Stewart)

Warnings: kidnapping, stalking, the normal yandere shenanigans

The Flash

(this one borders on romantic but not sexual if that makes sense I have a hard time imagining him as a purely platonic yandere in any context.)

Your family were to Central City what the Waynes were to Gotham. Minus the double homicide 😬

Every citizen knew your name.

You have had many stalkers but none quite so enthusiastic as the city's own hero Flash.

It started playfully enough. He'd speed by you and back track just to say hello.

You were flattered at first. Such a busy important hero taking time to stop and chat.

The public loved it as well.

And for a little while you didn't mind his attention. He was funny and sweet.

You did always have a soft spot for goofballs and they don't get much more goofy than him.

You even consider asking him out once or twice.

That was until your security cameras started to mess up.

A blur of red would plague your cameras every now and again.

Small things would go missing in your home. Never anything expensive or important.

A hairbrush or a used night shirt.

When you slowed the footage you could hardly make out the familiar shape of your hero friend.

It wasn't enough to take to the cops and you yourself wasn't even sure if it was him.

Just to be careful you cut contact with him.

This wasn't a good idea.

Now Flash is by far the most unorganized of the justice league yanderes. No surprise there.

He'd have next to no self control.

If he feels like he should break in and "borrow" something of yours, he will.

If he feels like he's losing you he will just... stop that.

He'd take you to an abandoned warehouse he's fixed up. Somehow it still smells like a frat house thanks to him.

It would happen so fast you wouldn't have any clue what was going on.

One second you are walking home surrounded by bodyguards the next you are sitting in a warehouse chained to a wall.

He'd be so apologetic right away.

The regret is obvious.

He knew he couldn't just let you go now though.

He's isn't delusional enough not to see the problem here but he his arrogant enough to think maybe he can make you like him enough not to tell anyone.

The constant reassurance of "I'm not gonna hurt you!" Doesn't help anything.

He wasn't lying. He would rather die then be the cause of any kind of pain to you.

It's just that he's an idiot and has a hard time sounding convincing when he tells you this.

Thankfully this one is the easiest to get out of.

If you believe him you can just wait and earn his trust he will actually just let you go because again this was just a horrible mistake on his part.

Or you can ambush him. The man is super fast but he can still be knocked out easily enough if you get him from behind.

Flash is the most harmless and unpredictable yandere easily.

There is no guessing if he's lucid at any given moment.

I definitely think he and Green Lantern are tied for the safest yanderes though.

Over all a little scary but mostly harmless.

Martian Manhunter

You were an ER doctor working the night shift when you first met.

He was brought in disguised as a human.

He'd been knocked out and found under a bridge.

It it wasn't long before you found out he was something different.

Of course you knew aliens lived among you but it's a whole other thing to be face to face with one.

You all had no way of knowing this was Martian Manhunter a well known hero in the city.

Your coworkers wanted to turn him to the authorities.

You were always more open minded then most. You couldn't let this innocent man be taken a away and have God knows what done to him.

When you were alone you got him in a wheelchair and snuck him home to keep him safe.

It wasn't long after he woke up and transformed into the semi familiar form of Martian Manhunter.

You explained yourself.

He thought it while unnecessary it was a kind act.

Reading your mind he could see how kind and gentle you really were.

He was always fond of humans and their complex emotions and peculiar ways but something about you he really liked.

After thanking you he left.

Immediately he noticed how he couldn't stop thinking about you.

He didn't find you attractive. He wasn't attracted to humans in kind of romantic or sexual way.

But like humans, Martians could find platonic love just as fulfilling and even intoxicating.

He was well aware how much he thought about you wasn't normal. But what harm could it do?

Martians are rarely impulsive.

He would only kidnap you as an last resort.

He didn't need to kidnap you to keep you safe.

He would take the form of neighbors and coworkers to keep an eye on you.

While in these forms he'd scan the minds of everyone around to make sure no one was planning on doing any harm to you.

More then once he has had to dispose of some ill intentioned men on your nightly walks home.

He just walked watching you.

He'd even turn into a fly and watch you in your home.

Watching you made him feel so human.

In the time he spent around you he has learned so much about humanity and what it means to be human.

Eventually he would learn all he could form this level of contact and new he has to move to face to face meeting.

He'd come to your door one evening with a baked good to say thank you again.

Seemingly very naturally to you a friendship formed.

He'd leave your apartment and come right back in as some kind of bug.

J'onn unlike most of the others could be happy with this kind of relationship.

He above all else is very empathetic. He knows how traumatic it would be to you to be taken away from your life.

That being said if you ever found out about his unconventional form friendship he'd have to take you.

He couldn't let you leave his life.

He'd try to wipe your mind.

To make you forget his mistakes .

You would be his friend for the rest of your life.

Whether you knew it or not.

Sorry this took so long. I posted it but my tumbler crashed and I lost all my progress. I got discouraged for a bit. Sorry if this one isn't as good. I was rushed and panicked it would get eaten again.

[bangrychannie]

My fanfics

Hello! Here is a masterlist of all of my published fanfictions. :)

thanks for calling (minsung | 1/2 | 9155 | T)

“H-hi, Is this the Soonie, Doongie, Dori show?” Jisung stuttered, immediately regretting it. He couldn’t even say hello like a normal person, for fuck’s sake. Obviously this was the Soonie, Doongie, Dori show! He went silent for a few seconds, before remembering that dead air is bad on the radio.

“It sure is. I can’t believe I have any listeners other than them,” Lee Know’s voice cut in, saving Jisung from the awkward silence.

“Yeah, I’ve been listening for a few weeks, actually. Your voice helps me sleep. I’m an insomniac, and nothing has really worked before I found your show.” Jisung rambled, his face flushing as he talked.

“So you called me to tell me I’m boring?” Lee Know asked, tone neutral.

Or: Jisung is an insomniac who's tried everything he can to get a good night's sleep. Nothing worked until he stumbled upon the Soonie, Doongie, Dori show on his college's radio station.

love at first lance (minsung | 1/1 | 6,480 | G)

Jisung got the pony he wanted, but he still felt a bit childish as he walked up the stairs and onto the ride, putting his platform Converse into the saddle and hauling himself onto the pony. Even though the pony was short, Jisung’s noodle arms barely got him onto it. A bit breathless, he looked at his little brother in front of him and smiled. The ride started moving around slowly, the up and down movement of the horse comforting. A merry tune sang in Jisung’s ears, making him smile and want to hum along. Suddenly the ride became faster and the fair around him began to blur. Jisung’s hands tightened on the saddle, and he was blinded by an explosion of sparkly silver stars in his vision. The music faded as well as the carousel around him, and the wooden horse he was on didn’t feel so wooden anymore. What was going on? Jisung blinked and almost fell from his now very real pony. He was in front of a gigantic castle, and it looked nothing like the medieval themed funhouse Jeongin had tried to drag him on a few hours ago.

Or: Jisung gets transported back to the Middle Ages after riding an amusement park ride, and someone here needs his help.

stupid for you (minsung | 2/2 | 10,768 | T)

“There he is!” Chan laughed, jumping and waving at someone on the other side of the pool. A man with purple hair waded toward them, rendering Jisung speechless. Chan forgot to mention an incredibly important fact: this man was the hottest bassist Jisung had ever seen in his life. He had enticing, feline eyes; a perfectly sloped nose; plush, kissable lips; and of course he was shirtless and showing off toned arms and a six pack. Jisung felt faint. “Hey, I’m Minho,” he said, smiling and waving like he wasn’t the hottest guy on the cruise. He had cute bunny teeth that were highlighted by his smile. Jisung might be in love already. Jisung lifted his hand to wave back, trying to give a polite smile that didn’t out him as being insane. “J-Jisung,” he stuttered, dread returning to his chest. Be normal, he begged himself. “I’m the drummer in Stray Kids.”

Or: Stray Kids win a contest to open for Day6 on an emo cruise. Minho is their fill in bassist.

Stuck (minsung | 2/2 | 5165 | E)

“God, you’re so pathetic,” Minho snarls, leaning in even closer. “I don’t know why you even work here. I didn’t realize this company was a charity that helps the less fortunate.” Jisung pretends that the insult doesn’t go straight to his dick, refusing to look away from Minho’s eyes. What is wrong with Jisung? Minho genuinely hates him and he has to suppress a whimper at the insults. Jisung starts to squirm, but Minho is too close. He accidentally brushes against Minho’s thigh, a high pitched groan leaving him before he can even think. Kill him now. This might be the most embarrassing situation he’s ever experienced in his entire life. What’s even worse is that Minho laughs at him. Jisung prays that the elevator drops to the basement and kills them in a fiery explosion.

Or: Enemy coworkers Jisung and Minho get trapped in an elevator together.

Dry Socket (minsung | 1/1 | 1765 | T)

Minho gets his wisdom teeth removed and Jisung comes along for the ride.

[broken-clover]

Well, that's probably an easier and more digestible way to phrase it than 'the man I might've been fostering feelings for (as well as my other dear friends) disappeared and I'm not sure if he's even alive or not anymore and I've started to (platonically) love and get attached to you and my new friends but now I'm afraid that means I'm going to lose the three of you now too because of it' especially when talking to someone like Tao.

...

...Y'know, I had the realization that, while entirely unplanned and accidental, all three of the women in Team 2 are united thematically in how through their own home narratives, they not only lost someone deeply loved and important to them, but they were lost so profoundly that even the memory of them has been warped beyond recognition in the minds of those who remember them (Ragna was outright wiped from existence, I-no's memories of Will were faded from time travel (and Axl was either a new identity or a parallel version of himself based on interpretation) and while Pink faked her death, she lived a life so divorced from her origin yet died anyway with most not knowing who she really was).

I doubt this game was designed with any sort of introspection in mind but it's nuts to compare my first and second parties to view them as

Team 1- haha buncha fruity dweebs off having gay adventures

Team 2- You were wrenched out of my life so suddenly and harshly that I'm not sure the wound in me can ever physically heal in its entirety, you have physically become a part of me in how my old wound scars, the passage of time and reality has made your memory blur and the snapshots of your existence fade. Even the pain has begun growing fuzzy but I continue to cling to it despite how futile and self-destructive it is because it's all I have to remember you by, to remember that you existed and that we were together because even after so long I don't want to think about a world where you don't exist even if you only remain as an echo.

[intertexts]

i lied actually that krouse/luke interaction i posted earlier isn't wibby and virion it's actually wibby and ashe <3 what is more important than two kids trauma bonding over feeling like freaks because of their powers!!!!!! Dakota has his martyr complex, virion has his identity issues, but when it comes down to it both of them see their powers as something good, something that can be used like a tool, etc. they don't get it. ashe, actively discouraged by his father to use any of his powers AT ALL, literally locked in his house while his dad (hypocritical piece of shit) goes out and. uses powers. william, who got his powers from feeling like a freak and continued to feel like EVEN MORE of a freak after he got his powers. well. I think they just understand each other on such a core base level. emo kids unionizing you are so important to me. I think they like to sit on the roof at night and just talk about shit and look at the sky. william smokes and ashe doesn't give him shit for it even lightheartedly like virion or dakota would.

also not exactly related but also kind of related. very important to me that early on in their friendship ashe sneaks out of his house when mark isn't there. teenage rebellion is the catalyst for everything (also the irony of mark doing everything in his power and more to stop things from happening to ashe only for it to turn out that his actions are what directly led to ashe rebelling and meeting the wards and joining them and everything that comes after) . he finds out when ashe sneaks back into his room one night not realizing mark was home and his clothes smell like smoke . cue the "where the FUCK were you, what the FUCK were you doing" argument.

ohhhhh emo kids union....... emo kids union u are everything to me!!!!!!!!!!! god!!!!!! esp. in this context.... u are so right. they understand each other on a core level...... the loneliness the alienation the shared experiences. william loves dakota & virion so much & they love him & they'll always b trying 2 be their for each other in their own fucked up ways but like-- they'll never understand william thinking "i wish i could call my parents and cry and tell them everything but i could never do that." or "yeah i hate my brother and he scares me sometimes and i wish i didn't want to trust him like i do"!! what does that mean to the orphan n the guy who grew up with loving (dead) parents? ashe gets it though! he knows what it's like to be so angry and frustrated and lonely.... they click so immediately. ashe goes yeah i'm fucking terrified that one day i'll lose control and hurt everyone around me. i mean, i wish i was like Good, hahaha, but that's just not for me so i'm just trying make as much good as i can come out of something that straight up sucks, right? & wibby goes ohh. Ohhhhh. shit. like. it's exactly what ur saying man. locking eyes awkward cautious smile with the one other kid wearing a black tshirt n skinny jeans at camp & just Knowing Exactly who you're gonna be friends with. the relief of it.!!!!!

side note 2 me they r both breaker/shakers hehehe (wibby's ghost shaping kiiind of blurs the line? & after his second trigger when he gets Way better at mimicking humans & shit he's frequently miscategorized as a master. he kind of is? well. you know. blurred lines. but i don't think he's working with anything Living.) which i like a lot. same trauma solidarity!! you KNOW they r sitting on that roof w smokes & booze (neither of them even like the booze but it's part of The Thing) (dakota substance abuse baggage virion would rather die than be in an altered or unfiltered state in front of people) feeling kind of scared and gleeful that they actually get to have this Cool Person experience they always figured they'd miss out on forever... u know they're talkin bout all the normal shit they Did always want to do and did miss out on. actually yeah now that i'm thinking about it them genuinely barely even filtered through levels of irony larping all the shit they missed out on due to being Fucked Up is so important 2 me.... i need them to light fireworks in the street and accidentally stay too close & run away from them giggling & go to the grocery store at 2am & go to concerts... they get to be kids for a bit in a way that only the two of them understand. yk?

FUCKING ILL OVER THAT. BTW. YEAH. god if i think abt ashe & mark too long i'll die but that's so good... yeah.... perfect... i bet ashe kind of likes that his clothes smell like smoke btw. like real proof he Does have friends that he hangs out with now. god i bet they give each other shitty stick n pokes and are really normal about it.

[cryingpariah]

Royals dead and fled! The end of the most important Reverie in history! Pt 2

5 hours, 3 cups of triple shot expresso, 2 very tonal different phone calls and one strategy meeting later the WE NEWS blimp had made a temporary landing at Eigis Kingdom Port.

The game plan was simple: Morgan and Attach would distract by faking their way through interviews and photos while Jackie had to sneak past them, the royal family and guards and marines escorting them, find their precious stowaways and sneak both of them and herself back on to the ship in as little time as possible.

Sometimes she wishes she wasn’t so good at everything, she’d have significantly less on her workload.

Getting on the ship would be easy. It’s the whole “getting off the ship with two other people” thing that complicates things. If she chose to charm her way on, it’d be ultimately very suspicious if she insisted on seeing the cargo hold and there’s just no nature segue into asking to see one. She had even considered volunteering her help with unloading but immediately Post Reverie? Much too suspicious. And then what, walk back up from the cargo hold they think she’s obsessed over with two other people in tow?

So Plan B it was: sneak route. She can faintly hear the sound of camera shutters and the loud cawing only her boss could make as she counted down in her head. Soon enough what she was waiting for finally happened: the head guard stating they’d be taking a ten minute break before unloading all the cargo. She gave them a 45 second grace period after hearing door finally close before stepping out of her hiding place. She conjured up a skateboard sized arrow and focused on the gut feeling that always took her where she needed to go. She silently glided through the ship and down staircases before reaching the hold.

She stopped just before the door and fired up her observation Haki to double check and yup - there are definitely two people hiding out in there. She cracked up the door, wincing at the creak it made before making her way down. Boxes and crates covered almost every square inch of the floor before Jackie made out a familiar tuft of indigo hair out of the corner of her eye.

“Your Majesty, King Wapol? I’m here to-.”

Just as she was about to finish, a rogue wood plank came swinging out of nowhere. Quick as a flash, she sent out two arrows: one to send the plank flying back into its rightful place and the other to send her would-be assailant spinning like a cyclone. She clap her gloved hands together, pressing both of her middle and pointer fingers together before running her left hand up her right arm, an arrow forming in its wake as she assumed an archer position at the sky-blue blur right in front of her.

“Ah wait wait wait! Miss Jackie-chan! Please forgive her! She thought you were a guard, she didn’t mean it!”

At Wapol's frantic cries, Jackie quickly dissolved both arrows. She cast a light glance at the Tin Plate man and his frantic hands still as he cast a nervous glance between her and, Jackie glanced quickly to the left to check and felt her heart stop. In all her (dizzy and disoriented) glory stood Nefertari Vivi, Princess and future ruler the Kingdom of Alabasta.

Now on a personal level, Jackie had absolutely nothing against Vivi…but the same couldn’t said the other way around. In fact, one of the first things the princess had ever said to her was how much she detested the practices of the WEJ and followed that quickly by asking why Jackie worked there. Every visit since has been a verbal tennis match of Vivi interrogating the young journalist and Jackie using the age old tactic of distract and reroute. They’ve built up a tentative rapport at least.

Vivi made quick work of the situation and whirled around on her fellow runaway, pointing an accusing finger. “If you’re here to get us that means you called the WEJ! I hate-.”

“Yes you hate us but might I suggest you hate us from the blimp Your Highness? It’ll be a lot better for all parties involved and certainly a more efficient use of your complaints.”

Wapol shot up from his groveling position on the ground, looking as if he had just won the lottery. “You mean you’re not going to leave me - er I mean us - here to rot?! Oh thank you Miss Jackie-chan thank you!” He reached out, his eyes lined with tears and nose dripping.

“Course not. I wouldn’t just leave you two in the lurch like that over a little sneak attack. Excellent aim though Your Highness, if I had just been a couple seconds slower I’d be out cold on the floor right now.”

Vivi gives Jackie another once over before her shoulders relax. “Forgive me for the outburst. You’ve certainly got quick reflexes.”

“Comes with the trade I’m afraid.”

“Is journalism truly that dangerous?”

“It better be, I’d be really embarrassed if I was just over complicating the process this whole time.”

Wapol clears his throat, jumping at the sound like it would out their position. “I don’t mean to rush you Miss Jackie-chan but…shouldn’t we get going? Also how are we getting out?”

A guilty smile stretched on the couriers face, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

“I’ve got a fool-proof plan….I just hope you won’t hate me for it.”

…

After sneaking back off the boat, Jackie headed on a arrow to get as far out into sea as possible, all to make she can “coincidentally” be seen at gate and feed a quick lie to the guards about how she was sent out on a delivery and was told by her boss to meet up here. They let her in with a smile and she quickly met back up with Morgans and Attach, just in time to make a quick hello and goodbye to the King and Queen before heading back to the skies, safely nestled in the boss's office.

“So how the interview end up going?”

“Coo, it went swimmingly naturally, are you doubting my journalistic prowess?”

“Course not, I mean you’re getting pretty old and senile but… Ok ok I’m joking! Just a joke boss! You can stop giving me the evil eye any time now!”

Morgans's eyes did leave his apprentice instead choosing to do a full sweep of the room.

“I can’t help but notice a suspicious lack of our promised guests, don’t tell me you messed up?”

“You wound me sir I don’t ever mess up. Believe it or not I’ve never made a mistake in my life. They’re here and accounted for.”

Attach watches boss and employee talk back and forth, his eye slowing drifting and focus back on…

“Be careful Jackie, your bag is open.”

They glance back to the bag in question, its clasp surprisingly not put into place. It wouldn’t be a big deal if an incredibly guilty and giddy expression didn’t cross the courier's face.

A couple quick glances between the girl and bag was all it took before the Albatross cried with laughter and the photographer had a look of complete shock and horror.

“Ja-Jackie is that safe? Can they even breathe in there??”

“Already thought of that and solved it don’t worry.”

“By keeping the bag open?? Is that enough??”

“That is just an extra precaution. I gave them air tanks with 4 hours worth of the stuff. I’m a professional you know Attach.”

Jackie gently placed her bag on a nearby chair and flipped it open, peering inside at swirling void within. Underworld king and ace photographer watched in awe as first her fingers, then her hand, then her arm disappeared easily into the bag. She wiggled it around, clearly searching before she perked up with purpose.

“Please allow me the honor of presenting His Majesty, Tin Plate Wapol of the Evil Black Drum Kingdom!” She punctuated the declaration by pulling said man out of the bag not unlike a rabbit from a hat. She placed him upright and collected the oxygen mask and tank.

“Jackie I don’t think he’s breathing.”

“He’s fineeee, watch this.”

A light poke on the shoulder and Wapol sprung back to life, looking around frantically before recognizing where he now stood.

“Is that what being eaten feels like? Is that what I’ve subjected people to? Just an endless void, absent of all the joys of life?”

“Jackie don’t give our guest an existential crisis, you know his whole thing is eating.”

She shrugged off the compliant and reached back into her metaphorical bag of tricks.

“And with him I present to you, Her Highness Princess Nefertari Vivi of the kingdom of Alabasta!”

Said princess was much more responsive, jumping down to the floor and disentangling herself with an oddly practiced ease. She caught Jackie's eager look and spoke.

“Certainly wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. The fear wears off when the idea of ‘bottomless’ really sinks in. It was even kinda fun!”

“I knew it, I always knew it’d be fun! I’ve always wanted to try it myself but I didn’t know if I could pull myself back out and-!”

A clearing of the throat and sauve charming Jackie quickly takes back over, slipping into an easy bow at the king and princess.

“AHEM! A topic of discussion for another time. Allow me to be the first to welcome you aboard our humble aircraft, we know you didn’t have a lot options but we’re still so glad you chose us. I will, of course, personally give you a tour of the facilities-.”

Morgans took a step forward, his arms spread wide and triumphant, his feathers fluffed with excitement. “That can wait for another time, I believe we were promised BIG NEWS, were we not?”

Jackie deadpanned, her boss was an incredibly persistent guy normally but when the shiny allure of a good story was at play? He couldn’t have tact to save his life. “Don’t you think they’d want a rest or a shower or even a hot meal first boss? I’m sure-.”

“No.”

The room stood still, all eyes on the king.

“I wouldn’t be to relax anyway an-and I wanna uphold my end of the deal. In any case, thank you for thinking of me Jackie.”

No miss? No chan? She took a closer look at the man she written off so easily. Gone were his usual knocking knees and tear stained face, left in its place were sunken eyes and a monotone voice. If she didn’t know any better she’d say he’s sick…no not sick, haunted.

“Ah! Well.. of course Your Majesty, I’m here to help.” It sounded so halfhearted coming out but she really did mean it.

Wapol glanced quickly at Attach. “I need somewhere private to speak, just the three of us.”

“The four of us you mean.” Vivi defiantly placed her hands on her hips. “You’re not leaving me out of this.”

Wapol eyes shifted to apprehension. How odd, Jackie thought, they both escaped and hid together, was the Reverie information really too much for the princess to handle at this point?

“You can’t! Because…b-because..”

“I'm coming. Afterwards I need to call my father, he’s probably worrying himself to death by now.”

Jackie never knew people could go beyond corpse pale before but Wapol was certainly going for it.

Morgans shrugged. “Who would I be if I defied a person's right to be nosy? Come along, I’ve got just the place to have this discussion.”

Just like that the foursome were led in the bowels of the craft until they reached what was lovingly called “The Red Room.” The royalty were assured of its security, it's also the only (current) soundproof room on the ship. It lives up to its color name, the light washed the room in a ruby hue and made its sparse furnishings all the more ominous.

“Is that a Den Den Mushi? I thought you said this room is secure?!” Jackie quickly sauntered over to where Wapol pointed, making sure to scratch where snail met shell.

“It’s not that kind of Mushi, Your Majesty. It’s just a Signal Reciever, it’ll pick up all the pictures from our Camera Den Dens and print them out here so we don’t have to psychically retrieve them.”

“That sounds like that illegal spy ware that was banned internationally at the last Reverie.”

“You’d be surprised what bans are actually enforceable Princess.” Morgans called from the far end of the room before making his way to the group.

A much too cheery smile crossed the Albatross's face, notepad and freshly sharpened pencil clutched tightly in his feathery hands.

“Whenever you’re ready Wapol, we’re all ears.”

Wapol looked left, then right, then straight ahead and swallowed like he was headed for the gallows. His waves of nervousness were getting to Jackie at this point but she quickly steeled herself.

Whatever he’s going to say couldn’t be that bad, right?

[darkspace7]

[That Which Protects The Falling Rain] Part 2 Teaser

Part One - [HERE]

His head ached.

(…Urgh. What the fuck happened? Did I get rammed by a truck?)

Feeling as though he had just fell from a great height, consciousness slowly returned to him as a he made his journey out from the oppressive dark into the muzzy blur that was the waking world.

(Maybe a hollow chucked me into the side of a building again. Holy fucking shit that hurts…)

With a slit eye, he stared out at the fuzzed miscellanea that surrounded himself with a brief haze of confusion until the cobwebs dusted themselves from his mind and he recalled –oh yeah, that’s right, I wear glasses- and groped around himself searchingly. Upon location, he slipped them on and waited as the world resolved itself around him and a few things made themselves glaringly apparent.

The first: he felt absolutely awful. There was a deep ache down to his very soul and every single piece of him felt raw. As if he had been stripped of his skin and then had it stretched over his bare skeleton and pinned back into place by a bunch of searing hot sewing needles prickling his…well…everything.

Second: he was currently back at home, in his bedroom with no real idea as to how he had come to be there. However, he had the indescribable notion that he had previously been somewhere very different and nowhere even remotely near the place whatsoever. (But if that were the case then just where had he been? And how…)

(Don’t think about it.)

And finally the most important thing: why the hell was he on the floor of all things? Urgh. (Even if he did have a rather nicely done rug that he had stitched together all by himself in his spare time –thank you very much- covering the cold hardwood beneath that was still asking for any variety of aches and pains that would hit him the very moment he sat up.) Had he had a nightmare and accidentally rolled out of bed? Well, that would explain the vague sense of creeping dread that lingered at the fringes of his mind. As if he were forgetting something important.

(Don’t think about it.)

(It had been a while since he’d had a nightmare, now that he thought about it. Truly, when had been the last time he’d woken up in a cold sweat with the air all knotted up in his chest as he struggled to breathe. Hand outstretched as he continued to reach for out for his mother grandfather but was never quite able to catch as it faded to black. How he bit back the silent screams that wanted to escape as so not to wake his sisters or his old man with the noise. But didn’t he live alone? He was an only child after all and -outside of brief snippets brought about some by rather extenuating circumstances- he hadn’t actually held a conversation with his father in literal ages. Calling their relationship strained would be generous at the best of times and it would seem as they would never even have a chance to mend it because the very last time he had saw the man it had been as he was fishing the silvered arrow out from his emaciated corpse-)

(Hold on a second, even in the middle of the night it was never this quiet at his house. Where were the soft sounds of his sisters puttering about? The thuds of old goat-face as he trounced about getting himself ready for another long day at the clinic? Hell, he couldn’t even hear Kon as he scurried about doing god-knows-what like the little menace he was. Also his room looked nothing like this? Where the fuck was he???)

“Ichigo. Oh my god, just shut up. You’re giving me a headache.” He groused, staring blankly up at his ceiling.

…Wait.

(…Ishida?)

“…Ichigo???”

…Oh shit.

He jerked up (ignoring the rolling twist of his stomach as he did so) with a gasp as the feeling of hot knives were suddenly being rammed through his skull as he they thought about it.

Clutching at his head as if his life depended on it, short breaths hissed through gritted teeth as the fiery static subsided leaving a bitterly cold ache in its wake. He let out a hysterical half-sob as things continued to click into place as he remembered.

And oh dear sweet god did he remember.

(‘That…that was just a nightmare?’ It wasn’t. ‘All of that actually happened?’ Yeah…)

And now? After suffering through all of …that… they were just –what- shunted off to some alternate dimension? Thrown back in in time? Or maybe he genuinely had went mad from the stress of all those battle and what he was experiencing now was all just a dying dream as the void slowly consumed his soul.

(How morbid.)

But…

But if they truly had made it back…

Turned back the swing of the pendulum to before…

(Before Aizen had made his grandiose move. Before Yhwach rose up from the millennia old shadows with his army to enact his revenge. Before the subsequent collision. Before he failed so thoroughly at his role as a protector, swept up instead by the whims of supposed fate. Before he foolishly sought a place at the royal bastard’s side just so he could drive a stake in his deadened heart at the first chance. Before their thoughtlessness got everyone killed.)

He had to be certain. He had to check.

(Quick get your phone, check it! Hurry!)

The mad dash for the device had his sock-clad feet slip up on the bare hardwood and in the process he smacked his arm into the bedside table before he caught himself on its edge. Ignoring the bruise that was sure to form, he swiped the object from its charging dock. With a sense of trepidation, he flipped it open, wide eyes scanning for the date and stared.

There on the digital readout they stood, the numbers a stark contrast against his pale background. Right now, it was currently three-fifteen in the morning, around two years off from the date he last remembered. It hadn’t been a dream.

(It wasn’t a dream. They were back. Oh my god-)

At a loss for words, he let the device clatter to the ground, bonelessly following suit as he was slowly but surely consumed by the sort of numb disassociation that came from experiencing two weeks’ worth of repressed emotions from a lost future all at once.

He stared blankly at his hands.

They were shaking.

(I can’t believe it, we’re really back! This means that bondage-fucker’s plan actually worked holy fuck-)

Yeah, great.

The indistinct weight of another’s attention, shifting at the edge of one’s perception that could be felt but only just so. The subtle widening of eyes unseen.

(Ah, hey Uryū you good?)

Was he…good?

(Okay, yep. Stupid question. Ah…)

A wince trailed by conciliatory motion. The throes of night given substance, black-as-pitch and impossibly heavy but so very kind. This presence settled tentatively upon his shoulders. (Because of course he would; that even like this he would prioritize others over himself because that’s just who Ichigo was. Even if it was in part because of your own actions that led to everyone else getting killed –himself included- he’d still have the heart to treat you like a care-worn quilt. Even if you didn’t really deserve it.)

His breath hitched.

(Hey, easy, none of that now. I need you to do something for me, real important. Yeah? Think you can manage it?)

What?

(Okay, so I’m gonna need you to breathe in to the count of five, hold it, then release. Could you do that for me?)

He grimaced faintly. Why was he asking him to do something so asinine?

(Don’t question it dumbass. Just do it. Yeah, just like that. In…)

And so he did, despite feeling like a total idiot, the teen continued follow along to the beat of the other’s directions. But even so, he couldn’t help but notice as the knot in his chest seemed to lessen a bit more with every passing moment.

(Hold it. Keep at it. You’re doing fine.)

Ah, wait. He was having a panic attack wasn’t he? Like himself, Ichigo grew up among medical staff so it figures that he would have some sense of what to do if something like this occurred. (So why was it that he couldn’t have remembered the steps himself and spared them both the trouble of having to sit through something like this? How pathetic.)

(…And release. There. Now, you holding up a bit better?)

As he came back to himself, the presence drew back slightly but lingered around the edge of perception, almost as if uncertain whether or not to leave him be. Regardless, he didn’t quite trust the stability of his voice at the moment so in lieu of that he aimed a wave of weary appreciation in the other’s general vicinity. And judging by the sensation of a terse nod not his own, he understood.

(Okay? So…we’re in the past. Or an alternate dimension. Or…something. Holy shit. Okay, focus. Now. What do we do next? We can’t fuck this up like we did last time. So the main thing now is: we need a plan.)

“Mhm.” He agreed, blearily allowing gravity to draw him back down to the floor. The teen let himself sink into the soft blue-and-white rug. Face somewhat muffled, he said: “I’m open to suggestions.”

So, following Ichigo’s lead, they began to hash things out with the starting bullet point being the one thing they did know and then tacked on to that.

(Now, just so we’re clear, this is all operating under those previously mentioned assumptions because the alternatives are just…no. Got it?)

A nod.                                                                                          

(Good. Okay, so as it currently stands that whole prophecy shit hasn’t fully come into play yet so we have a little bit of a leeway on that front. The way I figure it, Yhwach won’t be at his full power for another two years –give or take- which gives a set span of time that we can use for preparation. We’ll need every second of it too because, realistically, any hope we have right now of just offing him and being done with it we probably can’t feasibly pull off.)

“That’s an understatement if I’ve ever heard one.” He said into the carpet only to earn the feeling of a mildly annoyed look and gentle thwack on his already aching head. He rolled his eyes with a grumble as the other –satisfied that there would be no further interruption- settled.

(As I was saying: That’s because I guarantee you the moment we do try poking around a bit, we risk not only setting his entire Quincy army on us but any fumbling with that will probably alert the Gotei 13 and by extension Sōsuke. We can’t forget that right now he has that bullshit hypnosis spell over everyone over there because he’s still pretending to be a good guy or whatever. ‘Sides, you and me both know how badly we’d get our collective ass kicked trying to solo a war against three different armies at the same time.)

Not that they still wouldn’t try if things ever came to that.

But, still, priorities.

“We don’t exactly know the full scope of their resources or capabilities right now nor have we really had the chance to take stock of our own situation. I mean, it was kind of a mess toward the end there so how can we be sure of what carried over and what didn’t?” Dark eyes squinted up at the ceiling as he rolled over and proceeded to ignore the severe headache behind his eyes from the motion. He could curl into a ball and wish he was dead later there were more important things to deal with right now.

“There’s also the added mess of how we’re gonna find a place where we could feasibly test them out without everyone and their mother coming to snoop.” Maybe they could see about sneaking into his father’s practice range? But then again, that ran the risk of drawing the elder Quincy’s attention and then he would –urgh- actually have to talk to his dad.

(Right. Because that would definitely lead to some awkward questions. Good point. Uh, hey Uryū what do you figure would happen if you were to square up two instances of something like “The Almighty” against one another? Would they be matched and cancel each other out or would that, like, break reality or something?)

They contemplated this for a second before deciding it was something to come back to later.

(So training and then what? More spy shit? Scoping things out?...Maybe going to grab you some painkillers or something?)

Ignoring that last jab he let his eyes fall shut, “I was thinking more along the lines of gathering allies.” He could sense the other perk up a bit. “On the Quincy side of things, I know for certain that there’s at least one person we could probably convince to join our cause and that could potentially give us an in to what the others are doing right now.” He carded his hand through the carpet’s fibers, blue-&-white wool soft against callused fingers. “Not only that, but we’d also have to find some way to sway your Reaper friends to our side. Because I hate to say it but without their added firepower the chances of us actually pulling off this little venture are next to nil. Whatever we do, we have to make sure it’s done right from the very outset if we want any of it to go according to plan. ”

(Urgh, check your phrasing dude. The way that you said it there makes it feel like you’re trying to pull off a bootleg Sōsuke impression or something. Gross.)

With his free hand the teen flipped him off.

(Alright, sheesh. Don’t bite my head off. Anyways… So to sum it all up: The main issue we’re facing right now is lack of resources and we can’t do much until we have more info on how to go about getting those resources and so as it stands we’ll probably have to wing it until can be sure there are people in our corner that we can trust to get this shit done.)

“Yeah. Basically.”

(…We’ve done more with worse odds.)

 “…That’s not very comforting, Ichigo.”

(I know but it’s all I’ve got so deal with it.)

The mutual urge of wanting to stick a tongue out at the other was a strong one and he would have probably followed through on it if his stomach hadn’t picked that exact moment to turn over on itself. He stifled a moan as he rode it out, hand clenching and unclenching with every wave of pain. Shit. Was it just him or was it warmer in there than usual? To distract himself from heat licking at his veins (and the increasing wave of concern he could feel radiating out from the other) he offered: “B-But on the brightside I’m pretty sure we’re the only ones who remember any of this anyway. So unlike everyone else we’re not starting at zero. We have the advantage.”

(…Right, okay. That brings us to up to what stuff we could change and what we probably shouldn’t.)

He nodded. “True, if we change too much that could be bad too. All that knowledge would be useless and…” Just the very thought of seeing the others have to face a world worse off than the one prior left a lump in his throat. (No. Absolutely not. That cannot be allowed to happen. I’ll protect them, this time.)

(I won’t watch them die again. I r e f u s e.)

Swallowing thickly, the sensation of bile built at the back of his throat alongside a groan. He pressed his palms to his eyes and let out a curse, low and vehement. His body was already feeling like an overused pincushion and this sure as hell didn’t help any. He couldn’t deny it any longer, something was wrong. Of course being thrown into an alternate past what-have-you as they had been would have some sort of cost because why wouldn’t it? God, nothing could ever be easy for them, could it?

And then there was Ichigo hovering behind his eyes, the other teen’s agitation practically overflowing from the writhing mass of eventide-in-shadowy dark. The balmy presence pressed forward, likely spurred on by his waning attention. He could feel the unspoken question on the other’s non-existent lips.–

Was he okay?

–So he hurriedly pushed himself up and bolted for the bathroom to release the meager contents of his stomach.

To which the answer was: No. He was not.

[sickly-qt]

Okay I just found your acc and I’m obsessed with drew! Do you think you could write something where she gets pretty drunk to the point of throwing up and she is so out of it she lets Finn see her? No pressure :)

wowowow, look at me, answering an ask for the first time in forever. I am trying my best lol. This is kind of important in terms of different characters becoming acquaintances but otherwise it's just shameless emeto. This also takes place a little while back when Drew and Finn had been dating for less than a year, presently they've been together for almost 2 :)

Enjoy! I'm sorry if i'm a bit rusty

~~~

Work events with an open bar always mystified Drew. She never really understood why an employer would encourage drinking to excess… or at the very least tempting their employees to drink to excess. These were the thoughts running through her mind as she picked up her glass and walked away from the bar, sipping on what must’ve been her third double vodka sprite of the night. She knew that she should probably slow down, the anxiety of being at one of Finn’s work banquets washing away with every glass of wine over dinner. Her head felt airy and conversation was coming easy and she was actually having a better time than she thought she would’ve, probably too good of a time if she were being honest. 

Drew was surprised when Finn had asked her to go with to be his plus one to his work event. Sure, they had been dating for around 7 months and they were basically living together, but things like this really cemented that they were serious in a weird way. He wanted to be seen with her in front of his coworkers as well as the new company that had just partnered with the company Finn helped run.

“Hey, Drew! Come and meet my new partner.” Finn called, grabbing her hand and leading her through the crowd. Everything went by her in a blur and made her dizzy, this is when it really settled in that she was undeniably drunk. They came to a stop in front of another surprisingly young couple. A tall blonde man who looked a little intense and a woman with reddish hair and brown eyes smiled at her kindly. Drew was just focused on seeming sober, and feeling like she was failing miserably. 

“This is my partner, Drew. Drew, this is one of the heads of the company we just partnered with, Remington Paxton and his partner Mila.” Finn introduced them all.

“Hi it’s very nice to meet you, and you can both just call me Remy.” the man responded, holding out his hand. He was almost alarmingly clean cut in the most crisp, and probably most expensive suit Drew had probably ever seen. Mila, on the other hand, seemed a lot more laid back in a simple blue tea length dress and beautiful silver heels, she looked like an auburn cinderella. 

“It’s nice to meet you both as well.” Drew said, shaking both of their hands and then promptly zoning out as Finn and Remy launched into a conversation about PR and advertising. She had a very loose idea of what Finn did at work in the first place and at this point Drew could barely wrap her mind around what she had to do the next day let alone how different PR tactics can be used to benefit marketing and advertising. 

“I never really know what he’s talking about once he gets going.” Mila said, taking a sip of her champagne. “I just smile and nod.”

“I’m glad I’m not the only one.” Drew smiled, not really in the mood to conversate. She was starting to feel woozy and a little nauseous. All of the anxiety from before her second glass of wine, rushing back. Suddenly, the elegant ballroom felt stuffy and her dress felt too constricting, and she was really warm. She heard Mila start to say something else but Drew couldn’t be bothered to pay attention, everything was spinning and she felt lightheaded. 

“Excuse me. I’m so sorry I need to get some air.” Drew mumbled, sitting her drink down on the nearest table and rushing away. She had intended to actually do exactly that but on her way to the door nausea hit her like a brick wall and she gagged harshly into her hand. Drew quickly detoured to the bathroom, grateful that the unisex bathroom was open and she wasn’t about to be sick in a stall. She had barely gotten the door locked behind her before vomit rocketed up her throat, spraying through her fingers and dripping down her arm. She barely had any time to throw the toilet seat up before she gagged again, her dinner coming up in violent waves.

She steadied herself on the back of the toilet, her other hand gripping her stomach and she took a couple breaths. A knock at the door caused her to jump.

“Drew, it’s me. Are you alright?” It was Finn. 

Drew swallowed and flushed the toilet, walking over to the sink to wash her hands. She was a complete mess, vomit in her hair and down the front of her dress. The sight made her gag again. What was worse was the trail of sick across the floor and on the back of the toilet. “Fuck.” She whispered before unlocking the door and letting Finn in.

“Oh fuck.” Finn mumbled, seeing the state of his girlfriend and the bathroom.

“I’m so sorry.” Drew sniffled, drunk and emotional. 

“It’s okay babe. Uhm… let’s get you cleaned up a little and then we can let an attendant know that someone got sick in the bathroom and then we can go home, okay?” Finn had grabbed some toilet paper and started cleaning the puke out of her hair.

“I’m gonna throw up again.” Drew whined, feeling sick and now embarrassed. She covered her mouth with her hand before bending over the toilet again and gagging.

“Okay, okay. Just get it out.” Finn stood behind her, holding her hair out of her face and rubbing her back as all of the wine and vodka sprites came back up in a disgusting slurry. 

“Oh god, I’m so sorry.” Drew said, out of breath. She stood up straight and closed her eyes, taking deep breaths before a burp rumbled up her chest, sending her back over the toilet although nothing came up.

“Shh, no more apologizing okay?” Finn reached around her and flushed the toilet, still rubbing her back. “Are you done for now?”

“I think so.” Drew mumbled, blowing her nose with some toilet paper. “I’m sorry you had to see that, I feel so disgusting.”

“A little vomit isn’t going to scare me away, Drew. I love you, and I still love you after seeing you be a puke geyser.” He wet some toilet paper and tried his best to clean up the front of her dress.

“Thanks… I love you too…”

“Let's get you home my love.”

[samtheflamingomain]

"pedestrians being aloof"

Is the title of a post. The following is an exact copy-paste of that very highly-upvoted Reddit post under my city's subreddit:

"Is it just me or are ppl just not paying attention anymore?

"In the last 2 days I’ve had 2 people walk in front of my car while I’ve had the right of way. It’s been at the intersection of X and Y. The one lady almost ran into my car as I was turning - luckily I saw this blur out of the corner of my eye. The car behind me saw it too and I saw the driver put his hands up like wtf! Just now another lady held up a whole line of traffic and just waltzed across like it was nothing. Do people not understand that the little man means WALK and the red hand means STOP!! Geesh"

So, so, so much to unpack. Let's go from the top.

But to do that, I need to give a bit of background on my particular city. It's easy to figure out so I'll just say it: Waterloo, Ontario. A 500k town home to 2 Universities. And thus, thousands and thousands of foreign students.

Before we even get going, in a lot of places that aren't the States and Canada, the pedestrian always has the right of way. Our countries are build with the obsession of cars and the absolute hatred of pedestrians. Many foreigners might not be instantly acclimated to our stupid, stupid system of penalizing pedestrians for existing.

Okay. That covers right of way, but the next sentence is probably the one that infuriates me the most: "one lady almost ran into my car" No, that's simply not possible. "A lady" will never "run into" a 2000kg piece of metal hurling toward them at 70km/h. Please take several seats you stupid, stupid person.

But it gets worse! "luckily I saw this blur out of the corner of my eye." No, please use all of your eyes. Watching for pedestrians is kind of like… the very first fucking rule of driving. It wasn't "luck". It was you just so happening to use the only remaining brain cells you own to think "oh, maybe people are walking on this planet?"

Let's play the banger that is the second example: "[Another lady] held up a whole line of traffic just waltzing across" blah blah. Let me translate that into normal person talk: SOME PEOPLE ARE DISABLED AND UNABLE TO FUCKING SPRINT ACROSS THE CROSSWALK AS YOU SO DESIRE.

I fucking hate cars, I hate you if you think cars deserve priority over *checks notes* human beings using legs instead of wheels to arrive at a destination.

It's disgusting, it's cringe, and it needs to stop. Cars are an absolute scourge on society. I truly believe it's the worst invention ever made.

I hope many more ladies waltz in front of your vehicle as if it's nothing. You are not more important than people fucking walking.

Stay Greater.