#so i wrote a little angst

[just-null]

pet..... pet au....? you have.... a pet au for the clones....?

PLEASEEEE SHARE SOME THOUGHTS AB IT😭😭😭😭❤️ I was reading a pet au Hantengu fic way back when and the person never got past chapter 3 and it's been rotting my mind. I love love love pet aus when the dynamics are just right and not weirdly predatory with the pet characters and I love your little ideas for stuff🤗🤗 Share if you feel like it, I'll be eagerly awaiting.

(Also please don't exclude Zoha in this endeavor I love that little man)

The Hantengus!! A lot of cat boys..

Context behind a lot of the language in my pet au!

[Cw! Angst(?), referenced sedation, obsessed catboys.. yandere behavior]

Upon meeting them, they're veryyy excited and sweet on you, to the point where they seem TOO familiar. As if meeting a long distant lover.. With their overly friendly greetings, all the warnings and caution from staff seem like an exaggeration, if not a complete lie.

Records show that they're not even related despite sharing eerily similar features, and having only met not too long ago. You'd never guess by how they're so perfectly coordinated. Using said coordination, they simultaneously surround you.

Constant brushes, crowding, wanting your hands on them so bad, they take whatever you're holding. It's not uncommon that they begin purring just because you're around. They quickly flip from being sweet to eager entitled of your time if allowed.

To say they're overwhelming is an understatement, but the staff practically beg you to help with the bunch.

The boys aren't complaining! They're extremely pushy and insist on staying at your place instead of the hybrid shelter, maybe a few times a week? Please!? Regardless, if you say no, you might find them in your home—and a patched up broken window—when you've been gone a while.

Ah— if you hear knocking at your door, just don't tell anyone that they're here, yeah..? Y'know what? How about you just forget about answering it at all!

Sekido is tolerant when you're around. All the fire left his body, leaving small smoldering embers. His flare ups are only a real issue if there's someone unfamiliar around or giving you a hard time. Otherwise, he's pretty content with lazing about or helping with any work you have. He likes being of use to you. He gets irritated, stressed, when you lift a finger, a habit you can tell he's used to, and swats at you for any bad habits you have. Though that goes out the window if your hand's on him. It's a wonder if he's more of a dog than a cat until he starts scratching. He's just really tired.. Karaku is mischievous but doesn't cause trouble. At least, not like he used to, not as long as he has his daily dose of you. It's like he did a complete switch, the staff say, smiling randomly and rambling in an airy tone about how this is heaven on earth! How could anyone feel down around you? It must be those charms of yours. Staying indoors is okay, but he constantly nudges you to go out with him, or entirely dragging you out. Show him around places you like to frequent so you two can experience it together, maybe have some souvenirs? Wouldn't that be fun? On the days you decline, you can find him staring at the little trinkets from past dates with fondness. Urogi always has so much he wants to tell you. He can honestly talk and pace for days without stopping if it'll keep your attention. If it doesn't, he WILL cry. His mind is faster than his mouth, and stories end up garbled and hard to follow.. Sometimes, they aren't about this life, and when referring to you, it's like he's remembering a version of you.. It always ends the same. His expression gets bleak then snaps back to blissful. A content smile replacing the strained one he wore prior as he embraces you, taking a moment to feel your weight against his. Aizetsu sits in corners and watches you through cracks in the door. You can find him somewhere in your room or general area.. looking at you.. his pupils so dilated that you barely see the blue ring at the edge. He can stand still for hours until you get up or reach for something. He's already got it for you. He's combative with Sekido for that service role. Unlike his "brother," Aizetsu's movements are measured, rushed. Like something will be taken away if he doesn't act fast, so he one ups everyone and reads you before you even ask for something. Zohakuten is annoying but doesn't try to give you a hard time. He's the most demanding, always extending his arms for you to come over and hug him. At first, you can feel the tension he holds all over his body, digging his claws into your side, then like goo, he melts. It's a double edged sword since letting go makes him twice as irritated as before. He'll brat occasionally, pushing something off a counter or banging on the windows, yelling at the stranger on the other side to get lost. No one is the victim of this more than the other four. Whereas Zohakuten would start a fight with anyone else, he just annoys the other four.

The weariness hangs heavier in their eyes than the usual hybrids, but they dont like talking about it in detail. As you could guess, prior to this overwhelming clinginess, there were rivers of agonizing desperation.

———

In this life, the boys didn't have the liberty to grow up together like usual. They were born of different parents scattered throughout the region. This wasn't the first time it happened, but they hated when it did, especially Hantengu.

Each second Hantengu's away from his boys is agony. He spent so long waiting for them to be reborn just so that they're so far away!? All he can think of are the possible ways he might die and restart the damn cycle without even having the chance to see you. He's been alive for a while now, but he's too terrified to go far on his own, so he's barely made any progress!

What if something happens and he doesn't even get to meet you? now THAT would be a fate worse than the cycle.. His caretakers are stumped on what to do with him. Any attempt at calming him down were met with opposition.

The boys are as you expect. They kept acting out in hostility and showed no sign of calming down the longer they're apart. Being moved from shelter to shelter didn't help, neither did getting handled like feral animals even if, in a way, they were.

Only the thought of you kept them going, so did the knowledge that if they found you, there's a high chance they'd find each other. You always seemed to fix everything just by being there, didn't you? So they kept hopping from shelter to shelter, some familiar, some new.

Hantengu was the first to end up in the hybrid shelter near you, then the others trickled in. It would've been decades since they've last seen each other, and based on how they're fairing, no one had it easy.

Sekido was a stray trying to stay out of shelters altogether. He did his best to keep his features hidden, both gathering info about you and the others. He made good progress, pretending to be a potential housing candidate, but he'd always get hostile with people eventually, exposing himself and having the authorities called to force him into a shelter. Each time, it felt like prison because of all the restrictions and drugs.. Like hell if this was gonna stop him. Once his limbs stop feeling like jelly, he's going to find a way out of this damn place!! Again!! In his wait, at least he can pass the time by thinking about his favorite memories of you. Karaku was mostly alright, but transferred often because his very presence made the behaviors of those around him worse. He always used the "I didn't throw the first punch" excuse, but never mentioned his constant goading and spreading seeds of doubt about forgiveness that led to agitation amongst his peers. Not only towards other hybrids but staff as well. Call it sadism or nihilism, but Karaku's favorite pass time was making everyone believe that these rehabilitation shelters were nothing but a waste. The dull, empty eyes staring back at them proved it. In reality, Karaku took pleasure in the fragility of other hybrids. It took the edge off of his own anguish. Urogi always talked about you no matter where he ended up, usually causing a wave of eye rolls. But there's always that one hybrid who doesn't know how to keep their thoughts to themselves. Thus starting Urogi's rampage, watching the red streaks of other hybrids drip down their wounds, spitting at them for daring to talk bad about you. Then came the forced transfers. He loved it, honestly. His mind floated, feeling like he was a bird again, flying to you.. then the plummet when the drugs wore off that he didn't enjoy as much. With a renewed sense of determination and a strong longing for his wings, he began yapping again. Aizetsu, like Sekido, hid his features, calm enough to stay hidden. He kept to himself, mindlessly walking anywhere and everywhere with the tiniest grain of hope that he might find you there. No terrain, weather, or event would stop him from trudging through miles of land, following his intuition to where he thinks you could be. He'd be so focused on you that he'd go days without water or food, feet covered in blisters from the endless dragging across the ground before everything went dark. Waking up in a shelter always reminded him how disappointing his body was for collapsing on him. Hm.. he'll stay and recover for now, once he feels ready, he'll take some food and go again. Zohakuten raised hell, frequently ending up in confined spaces. Because he was young, he had more restrictions to ensure his safety. That only made escaping a huge hassle.. He hated being treated like a foolish boy when he's been through horrors worse than adult scissors! The confinement and restrictions ended up being for everyone else's safety after staff realized how common Zohakuten destroyed and mangled anyone in his vicinity. A familiar prick on his skin came after his small bruised hands demolished the common area, then the heaviness of his limbs settled in. Loud thumps came from the deepest part of the shelter as he banged on the walls to be released once the drugs wore off.

Their status as "lost souls" is no secret when they began tormenting anyone who tried to house them and the employees. It seems they've met the other lost and guiding souls in the shelter before with how they interact. For better and worse, at least the guiding souls temper their mischief.

They try forming a plan on how to find you next if this shelter doesn't show any results. It'd be faster to get transferred now that they're grouped up. And like the heavens opened up, they quickly realized that won't be necessary anymore once they catch a glimpse of the light they yearned for these three recent lifetimes, you. It's you.. You!

Any and all complaints are cut short when they make a habit out of gathering near the front glass of the shelter, waiting for you to walk in or pass by. Their demeanor shift is so sudden the caretakers worry they might've accidentally dropped some pills into their food. It's not like that, unless your presence counts as a drug!

[bitxhy-bookworm]

Sevika x Sensitive!Reader

Cw: slight anxiety attack, crying, hurt/comfort, swearing , established relationship

(also i didn’t proofread this- sorry)

It started out as one joke. Lighthearted and teasing, you even let out a geniune laugh. However one joke became two, until your whole friendgroup seems to be adding in their own version of the joke. Suddenly it didn’t feel like a tease, it felt like an attack. An attack on you, on the self esteem you work so hard to build. Next thing you know you’re not sitting at the last drop giggling with your friends, now you’re a kid again and everyone’s laughing at you for some joke you’ll never be apart of. You know this is crazy, it’s not half as big of a deal as you’re making it in your head but the sinking pit in your stomach and the pain in your throat make it feel like your fighting a war. And you are losing…terribly. Despite the feeling of all your insecurities attacking you at once, you keep an amused look on your face the whole night. It’s not everyone else’s fault you can’t handle a little joke, why ruin the mood cause you’re a crybaby?

You walk into you and Sevika’s shared apartment later that night, exhausted and ready to collapse. You kick your shoes off and allow your mind to relax or try to relax. Instead the only thing on repeat is that joke, was it a joke? Do they actually feel that way and tried to hide it with humour? You’ve never been great with expressions and social cues, maybe they all secretly hate you and this is their way of showing it? You feel hot tears begin to fall down your face and your chest starts to feel a little too tight. You hardly notice the sound of footsteps as you press your back against the door, trying to find anything to support you as your legs start to shake.

“Baby?…” a voice calls out, Sevika, her voice tired and groggy. God you probably woke her up with all this crying. “Oh love, what’s going on?” The sound of concern is evident in her voice, when you finally open your eyes to look at her all you can feel is guilt. She looks like she’s just woken up and here you are sobbing on the floor…the thought makes you cry harder. Why can’t you just pull it together already? You feel her arms wrap around you as she hushes you soothingly, “It’s alright, beautiful. I’m here, you’re safe.” She repeats this phrase along with a few more loving affirmations as she feels your body begin to relax and your breathes return to normal. She pulls away after a few more moments, giving you some space to collect your thoughts. You look at Sevika, then down at the floor slightly embarassed.

This isn’t the first time she’s seen you like this, living together has it’s ups and downs and you’ve both seen your fair share of breakdowns. Despite this, you can’t help but feel like you were doing too much. “Sorry about all that, I dont…i dont know where that came from..” You say, hoping that you can just brush past it fat chance.

Sevika looks completely unconvinced, “Sweetheart, that didn’t come out of nowhere.” She leaves no room for arguement, there is no malice or anger but no humour either. She says your name softly, gazing at you with a pleading look in her eyes. “Hun..you’ve been doing so much better lately, especially with talking these things out. We don’t need to talk about it right now but dont shut me out..please” goddamn it, that face, her voice..you never stood a chance. “Ok…but can I change first? I need to get out of these clothes” You say, breaking eye contact before her eyes make you do anything else.

You crawl into bed with sevika a few moments later, now in much more comfortable clothes. Sevika places her book down and turns her attention to you, at first you say nothing opting to curl into her arms instead. She smiles at how adorable you look, much more relaxed and those pesky tears tracks gone. You tell her everything, the joke and how it felt. The insecurity that followed and how it became too much too quickly. Her heart breaks when you look at her and ask if she feels the same way, “I won’t be mad if you do, i just..I feel stupid I guess. Like there’s this big joke everyone but me is in on…” you trail off as you feel her grip tighten, as if she could lose you to your own thoughts. “Baby look at me,” you do.

“None of that is true, not even close and none of your friends feel that way. I know you don’t want to kill the mood but you have to say something when you feel like this, I know they wouldn’t want you feeling this way either.” Her tone is firm but gentle, you know she’s right.

“I know, it’s just scary..I don’t want to make everyone stop having fun to cater to my fragile ass ego-“ “you are not fragile, not even close. But you are human, and humans feel and you feel especially deep. That’s nothing to be ashamed or embarassed of.” She takes her hand and places it on your chest “I love your heart, you’re so passionate and empathetic, so what if you cry a little harder or get worked up a little easier? That doesn’t make you fragile, it makes you extraordinary.” You feel tears well up in your eyes and you bury your face in the crook of her neck, “god Sev, quit sweet talking me or I’m gonna start crying again.” You say, giggling as she hugs you tightly one more time.

“Cry all you need baby, I’ve got you”

[stariiiize]

imagine, one day, just looking at yourself in the mirror and feeling so happy.

you’re not the prettiest, you know that, but you’re happy.

you don’t have the curves or the hourglass body, but you’re happy.

you don’t have a flat stomach, but you’re happy.

you don’t have a thigh gap, but you’re happy.

and you slowly start to realize,

you don’t have a lot of friends, but you’re happy.

not everyone likes you, but you’re happy.

you’re not the smartest, but you’re happy.

you don’t talk a lot, but you’re happy.

you’re not socially active, but you’re happy.

you’re not perfect, but you’re happy.

that day might not be today but you’ll get there, i know you will.

there will be a day in your life where you’ll be happy with yourself.

happy with the way you look, happy with the way you act, just happy with your life.

that day might not be today but it’ll come.

[anomalyaly]

Golden

[AO3/Wattpad]

Sebastian had always been told that he loved too much, but he had never expected to be loved as much in return OR A fluffy oneshot of how Sebastian and Elsie spent Valentine's Day together.

Word Count: 1.5k

Tags: SFW, Fluff, established relationship, Sebastian is spiraling but that's nothing new

Sebastian had always been told he loved too much.

When he was three, he grew attached to a wild mooncalf that was frequently spotted near their family home. The impulsive little toddler that he was, he had approached it too quickly in his excitement and spooked it. The mooncalf never returned after that, and he cried and cried, even as his parents tried to reassure him that wild animals are meant to roam free. Anne made fun of him, but Sebastian loved that mooncalf.

When he was five, he hit Anne when she teased him for making her a card out of noodles and parchment. He had tried to show his sister how much he loved her, and it broke his little heart that she had resorted to taunting, tossing his present to the floor, and stomping on it. He felt bad that he made her cry, especially when he saw how much it disappointed his parents and how much it hurt her. He never hit her again.

When he was seven, he didn’t cry when his parents died, not because he didn’t love them, but because he needed to be strong for Anne when they were being uprooted from their family home and moved to their Uncle Solomon’s cottage in Feldcroft. He would do anything for Anne, even if it meant hiding his tears until he was alone, in the quiet and the dark, with nobody around to hear. Solomon would punish him for it, but he couldn’t stop him from loving.

And when she was cursed years later, love was what led him to search the darkest corners of the earth for something, anything that would stop the universe from taking away the person he had sacrificed everything for.

Still, it hadn’t been enough. And his twin had abandoned him anyway, a consequence of his Unforgivable choices.

Just like that mooncalf.

Somewhere in the midst of it all, during his fifth year, a small glimmer of hope entered his life in the form of a Ravenclaw girl with a soft heart and kind eyes. And as time went on, that glimmer almost too suddenly burst into a roaring flame that he had been more than happy to burn from.

Yet she had given him the worst possible answer to his question.

“I’m not a fan of big gestures,” Elsie said as she took a bite of her breakfast. “I’d rather do something simple.”

He had asked her what she wanted to do for Valentine’s Day.

“A trip to Hogsmeade?” He offered. “Or we could fly out to the coast. Or,” Sebastian grinned wryly, “there’s a rather interesting tomb nearby. We could —“

“Sebastian.” She took his hand in both of hers and smiled softly. “I’m content as long as I get to spend it with you. Besides, Valentine’s Day wasn’t a widely celebrated holiday in my family. It was considered vulgar.” She paused. “Hang on — did you say tomb?!”

“Merlin, if I had known that was what would get you going —“

“No!” Sebastian laughed at the blush on her face. “I only meant that I hope you were joking.”

Sebastian shrugged, still smiling mischievously. If taking her to a tomb for an adventure was what she wanted, he would have taken her to five hundred tombs.

It was clear that wasn’t how Elsie wanted to spend Valentine’s Day by the look she was giving him.

“How do Muggles back at your home celebrate anyway?” he asked.

She scoffed and rolled a potato on her plate with her fork. “They send extravagant love letters with decoupage.”

He blinked. “What?”

“Old bits of postcards and paper glued together?” She chomped down on the potato slice. “It sounds innocent until someone sends cuttings of their undergarments. Or worse, if one receives a Vinegar Valentine.”

Before Sebastian could even wonder what that was, she said, “A hate letter.”

He hummed thoughtfully. “Well, I can assure you that I won’t be sending you a hate letter or my undergarments.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Unless—“

“No.” She sighed, and he tried to hold back another laugh. “Simple Valentine’s Day, please. If we have to celebrate, that’s all I ask.”

That had been days ago, and he still hadn’t understood what she had meant by ‘simple.’ The boy who loved too much didn’t know anything besides large, over-dramatic gestures of affection. It wasn’t possible for him to give anything less than…everything.

Sebastian, it’s too much.

You’ve gone too far.

You need to stop.

Hours upon hours of circling, pacing Elsie’s Room of Requirement, meditating on the words spoken to him so many times before in his life by the people he cared about. He had finally settled on setting up a picnic in her favorite Vivarium, the permanent autumn leaves the perfect backdrop for a romantic evening with no one else but the two of them.

Would she hate him for it? Criticize his extravagance? He had spent a pretty galleon on the bouquet of roses. And she didn’t even particularly care for plants. Maybe, like Anne all those years ago, she would laugh in his face and toss his present at his feet, insisting that it was all too much and refuse to speak to him again, too embarrassed by how much he loved her.

He loved her.

If only love didn’t make him hurt so much.

He wondered if she felt the same way when she told him she loved him. If she experienced that same aching pain as he did in the depths of his heart, suffocatingly strong that it kept him up at night, struggling to breathe when he was away from her. He had always felt too strongly, but this…

The noises in his head grew to an agonizing clamor, the roaring that he could never seem to silence when he was alone, voices that would remind him that he was a murderer, that he was unlovable, irredeemable —

“Sebastian?”

And then, it all went quiet.

Elsie stalked up the hill in her Vivarium toward him. “I saw you from the entrance. You left me this note— “ She gasped. “What…what’s all this?”

Sebastian shifted from side to side, suddenly forgetting what he was supposed to be doing with his hands. He gestured to the picnic spread behind him. “I…w-well, you said you wanted simple.”

“Did…” She blinked at him, still not moving from her spot. “Did you do all of this?”

She hates it.

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes shut, pushing back the headache that was starting to bloom between them. “I’m sorry, Elsie. I don’t know how to do simple. I know it’s too much, but I don’t know how to show you I care any other way, and I go too far every time, and I—“

“Stop.” He hadn’t realized she was standing right in front of him until she pulled his hands away from his face and cupped his cheek. “It’s perfect.”

“You —“ He gaped. “You like it?”

She giggled and stroked his hair, and he melted at her touch. “I love it. This is exactly what I wanted.”

“It’s not…too much?”

I’m not too much?

Elsie shook her head, still smiling from ear to ear. “I think the word ‘simple’ was probably a bad choice on my part. Honestly, you could have arranged a coordinated dance performed by Hippogriffs and I would have still appreciated it. It was never about the gesture, really.”

Sebastian smirked. “I could— “

“Maybe not that,” she interrupted before he could get any ideas, “I…I was being selfish. I only meant to ask to have you all to myself today. No Hogsmeade or adventure or big presents and parties, just…you.”

“Well if that’s all you wanted,” he beamed as he watched the blush creep up her cheeks, “you should have just said that.”

Just me. She just wants me.

She laughed, the sound bright and musical, and he wished he could turn back time just long enough to hear it on repeat forever. He pressed a light kiss to her forehead and savored every ounce of happiness radiating from her.

Sebastian used to believe that love was passion, raging, all-consuming. It was a wildfire that devoured everything in its path, taking all that he had to give and begging for more — hot, intense, greedy. But standing here, wrapped in Elsie’s embrace, he realized that he was wrong.

Passionate and intense, yes, but something softer — not fire, burning and taking and destroying, but light, golden and warm, bathing him in its glow and welcoming him home. Sebastian had always been told that he loved too much, but he had never expected to be loved as much in return.

Calm washed over him as he kissed her, his mind finally quieting from the earlier darkness that had been circling his thoughts. And when their lips parted, he refused to stray too far, holding her close to him as he rested his forehead against hers.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Elsie.”

She wrapped her arms around him, her eyes fluttering closed, her face still radiating the joy that he wanted to spend all of eternity enveloped by.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Sebastian.”

Not too much. Just enough.

[edgeray]

Arlecchino is a cold person.

(Arlecchino x Reader Blurb)

It's no suprise to anyone. It is simply an objective fact of the matter. She is aware of this. The House of the Hearth is aware of this. The Fatui are aware of this. It's ironic given the nature of her vision, but it nonetheless rings true despite the fire she possesses on her blackened fingertips. She is callous and curt, and underneath her skin there is nothing except frigid ice that envelopes her being like a fitted coat. She speaks with no warmth, acts with the absence of heat, exists in a constant state of cold emptiness--a state in which there is a void inside of her, as if sucking all that is human of her.

Years ago, when she was just a child of the same orphanage she headed, she had naive thoughts of finding companionship, someone who would provide the warmth she sought on lonesome nights. She was barely just an adolescent who dreamed of lying in someone's arms, feel the heartbeat of another so surely, it would remind her that she was indeed alive. For even the briefest of moments, she yearned for someone who would, if not shield, then distract her from the cruelties of this world. She had shed those foolish wishes aside. In the House of the Heart that she was raised in, such notions were admonished, in fact, the wishful thinking was one of the reasons she had nearly lost her life. Never again, she had promised to herself, when she mercilessly beat the backstabber. It was then that she believed when the time came, her tale would end the same way as it began for her: alone. As the years of being a Fatui, then becoming a Fatui Harbinger, hardened her, there was comfort in that view.

That is what she believed in. Until you came.

Iciness wraps her being. It is present in her expression, in her words, in her touch. But that is exactly why she finds solace in your being. Her vision could only grant her a synthetic flame, but, you, you're an everlasting hearth. She melts in your embrace every time she slots herself in your arms, as it feels like a kindling ignited in her heart. It is only with you, that she learns how warmth can be found in.

Arlecchino is a cold person.

It is why you, as a warm one, is perfect for her. You whisk away the most depraved thoughts, ease her of any emotional and mental turmoil, and you do not treat her with the same coldness as the world seems so fond of doing to her. You are her flame, the one that sparks her being and reminds her that she is alive because her heart beats with you, beats for you.

Except you are cold now. It is unfathomable to her how you can be this way when your entire being exists to warm her, but when she touches your skin, you are unbearably frozen. Your body does not tremble like it does when her clawed fingers ever so gently trace your skin. The corner of your lips doesn't quirk up into the usual small smile of yours when she appears in your sight, but they remain ever rigid like the rest of you. Uncharacteristically, your expression doesn't soften with her presence.

You are cold, just like her. And that makes her afraid. Her hand searches for it, prodding your skin for a familiar thumping that is nowhere to be found. You continue to stare at her, unblinking. Here would be the moment where you give her a beaming smirk and you'd cup her face tenderly as if she was glass. And she would let you, because you are her beloved, who has watched her shatter so many times before and wordlessly each shard back together, and it is for that reason that she would lean closer towards your touch.

Because you lie broken in her arms and her hands are stained again with the familiar color of red. Your eyes are glossy and gaze unblinkingly at her. Frozen. Even when you are covered in your blood, you are beautiful, she notes, but oh, so cold that it makes her doubt if you were warm to begin with.

She misses your warmth. Where has it gone? Or has it died along with you?

Her hearth is gone. And as she clings onto your form, her body wracking with a fear and desperation she's never known before, two revelations come to her: that there is no such thing as an everlasting fire, and even after so many years ago, she was right along.

Arlecchino is a cold person. And she will remain always cold.

[clipboardbuckdiaz]

Buck has been standing in the same place for god knows how long, just staring into his eyes that are like a never ending void. He finished doing his hair minutes ago, but feels cemented into place. He doesn’t want to move, because he knows if he does, he’ll just have to keep moving on with this hell that he’s been living for the past few weeks. He doesn’t notice when Eddie walks into the bathroom, and only becomes aware of his presence when he starts speaking.

“You know, for the past couple weeks you’ve been trying to convince Chimney that what happened in there want his fault, even though you’ve been doing the same thing.” Buck scoffs, and turns to look at Eddie. “Oh yeah, and how do you know that?” He asks while trying to give him the best poker face he has. “Because I know you, Buck.” Eddie replies, stepping away from the door frame of the bathroom. Buck deflates, and goes to grip the sink counter. “I just…if I maybe just tried to negotiate with the officers more—“

“They were set and stone on their decision, Buck—“

“It should’ve been me in there, not him.”

Eddie’s expression darkens, and Buck internally curses at himself. He shouldn’t have said that. He knows what Eddie is going to say, they’ve had this conversation before. He just can’t help but think it. I mean, it’s true. Bobby didn’t deserve to die, he had more to live for. He should still be alive. “Buck, that isn’t true, and you know it.” Eddie says solemnly. Buck just shrugs, and grips onto the counter harder. “He had a family, Eddie—“

“So do you, Buck! So do you!” Eddie yells over him, and Buck swings around to look at him once more. “But, he had it differently. He had Athena, he had May and Harry. I-I don’t have people like that.” Eddie bites the inside of his lip, not breaking his stare. “You have me and Christopher.” He replies. Buck shakes his head, “That’s not the same thing, Eddie.”

Eddie lets out a strained laugh that is barely comprehensible as one, and looks down. “Yeah, well it kinda is.” Bucks eyes widen, his heart feeling like it’s about to explode in his chest. “Eds…” Buck starts with not really knowing how to end it. Eddie shakes his head. “No- just…we’re gonna be late.” Buck decides to drop it, and nods. Eddie sighs, and reaches out to tug on Bucks tie before asking “Are you ready?”

“No,” Buck replies in all honesty, “But I have to try.”

Eddie gives him a soft smile and walks out of the bathroom.

Buck follows.

[lees-chaotic-brain]

bakugou katsuki who isn't a stranger to death due to the nature of his job is at a loss when faced with the death of your father.

after all the deaths in the war you both were suffering, so he was able to share your pain as you comforted each other. after a civilian died on his watch for the first time he came home and allowed himself to fall into your arms as you comforted him. the first time a civilian died on your watch he cooked you a warm meal and told you that some things are out of your control, and it doesn't make you any less of a hero.

he'd like to think he knows death and grief well enough to do something. he'd like to think he knows you well enough to know what to do. but in the face of your insurmountable grief, one that shoves you to the ground and slowly chokes out your will to live, he's lost.

you don't speak for days, just isolating yourself in your room and refusing to eat. it scares him. he knows how to deal with your depressive episodes, but this goes far deeper than an episode.

so he tells you he's there for you, and worries from a distance. days pass, and finally you emerge. standing under the fluorescent lights of your kitchen you finally allow yourself to cry, the force of your tears knocking you to your knees.

he kneels before you and allows you to sob into his chest as you ask if it's always going to hurt this bad, if the grief is always going to be this overwhelming, how you're supposed to move on after losing the only person who supported you since the day you were born.

he doesn't have answers for the first two, but for the last one he tells you what he's heard others say. "for now, you cry. you let yourself grieve. then you take it one day at a time, and let me be there for you when it feels like too much."

they're simple words, but they seem to comfort you a bit. crying into the comfort of his strong embrace, you allow him to hold you up as he sheds a few tears of his own in the face of your pain. he swears, he'll be there for you through it all.

[phantom-of-the-501st]

I'm Sorry

Echo has a lot of things he wants to tell his brother

Tags: @saturn-sends-hugs @inkstainedhandswithrings @the-bi-space-ace @floundrickthewayfarer

You broke your promise.

I trusted you and you broke it. But I guess I broke mine too. I said I'd never leave you. I'm sorry. I get angry at you sometimes, for leaving. I know it wasn't your fault. But you promised me that we'd be together 'til the end and yet you're not here.

I feel bad. I feel bad whenever I get mad at you. It wasn't your fault. And it's hypocritical of me. I left first. And I guess maybe you didn't break anything. You didn't leave me because there was no me left to leave. But I'm still angry. I came back and you weren't there. You left and you took a piece of me with you. I've never been whole since and I get so angry at you because of it. You vex me. You infuriate me. And I hate you for it. And I'm sorry. Because it was never your fault. I wish I could apologise to you but I can't. You're not here. But I'll keep saying I'm sorry. I'll store every apology until I can give them to you. Every single one. We'll make a trade. I give you every "I'm sorry" and you give me that piece of me back. Make me whole again.

I think about you. I think about you all the time. You're not here and yet I can never escape you. I see your sadness in the rain, your happiness in the sunlight between the trees, your anger in the lightning and your laughter in the wind. I see your frustration in the growing tide, your peace in the flowers in the meadows, and that twinkle in your eye reflected in the stars. I see you everywhere and yet I can't see you at all.

The others asked why I never grew my beard out. I said it was because it was too much of a bother to maintain. I lied. It's because I can't bear to see your face every time I look in the mirror, or at my own reflection in a pool of water. You haunt me. Every moment of every day, you haunt me. I hear one of our brothers laugh and I turn expecting to see you. Every time someone walks through the door I hope that I'll see that stupid tattoo of yours again, or that smug look on your face. But it's never you. It never will be.

Remember Rishi? I think about it often. Is it a bad thing that it doesn't hurt as much? We lost our whole squad but it doesn't feel the same. It hurt but we healed, we got better and it makes me sad but I'm okay. At least, just a little bit. But you? I don't know how I'll recover from that. You were my other half and now you're gone. The boys left a hole that could be fixed but you took a part of me with you and never came back.

I wasn't even there when it happened. He was. Sometimes I feel like I remind him of you and that hurts. Maybe I don't have the right to feel bad about this. It was a war. We made stupid promises and I broke mine first. I have no right to be mad at you for breaking yours when you couldn't control it. He was there. He held you as it happened. And he still doesn't get angry at you. He's a better man than me but he always was. He's a better man than all of us. Maybe he would have been happier with you here but there's not much we can do about that now is there?

People say that death is the worst thing in the world. Is it? Does it feel worse than this? I can't imagine it. I feel like my soul has been ripped from my body, like my lungs have been filled with lead. My heart burns with an immortal fire and yet I feel cold. I feel so cold.

You were my warmth. And you left.

She has the same laugh as you. I don't know how. I can't explain it but she does. And a twinkle in her eye. It's not yours but it reminds me of you. She would have loved you. And you her. I wish you could have met. Our younger sister. Our older younger sister. It's strange but when did life ever make sense? I ache knowing she'll never get to meet you. That you'll never know the joy that she brings. She glued a part of me together. Started picking up the shards and putting them back in place. I love her for that. I love all of them for that. For helping to hold me together, just a little bit.

But they'll never make me whole because you still have that piece of me with you.

We always joked about getting old, made bets on who would get grey hairs first, who would need a cane or glasses that hung on a chain around their neck. I always said it was you. You were the oldest. And yet I look in the mirror now and I'm the one who got there first. Not the cane, nor the glasses mind you, but the hair definitely changed. I watched each one. Each silver strand. Every one reminds me that I got here before you. And that you'll never get here. You broke your promise. And you won the bet. And I hate you for it.

I hate you so much for leaving and I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

You never wanted to hurt me and yet you broke me. I'm in pieces because of you.

And I'm so sorry, Fives.

[twilight-deviant]

Interpretations I've seen for why Matt saved Fisk (from fans and articles):

He was a good man defending his worst enemy, referencing Dex's previous line.

Didn't want anyone to die.

Didn't want Dex to kill anyone else, no matter who.

Ironic parallel to him not saving Foggy.

Making up for trying to kill Dex in the premiere.

Parallel to pushing the man out of the way when he was blinded. Just who he is.

He really hates Dex.

Remorse after discovering Fisk is innocent in Foggy's death.

Keep Fisk alive to face justice. (For what?)

Make Mayor Fisk look bad if he ever goes after Matt Murdock publicly.

Mitigate fallout with Fisk for his return to vigilantism.

Guilt because he helped Dex escape. (Does he know that yet?)

Assassination would make Fisk a martyr to the public.

Only Matt gets to kill Fisk. (Doesn't kill Fisk.)

Fisk wants Matt to kill him. (Wha? This isn't 3x13.)

Saving Heather.

Catholicism

General heroism

Didn't mean to.

???

????

?????

Fascinating. No one gets it. You have to be a little unwell, I think, to get it.

[jenna-louise-jamie]

thinking about yassen gregorovich instead of sleeping (because i love him) and how he is a catalyst. yassen stabbs ash -> ash kills john rider -> ian rider raises alex -> yassen kills ian rider -> mi6 blackmails alex into becoming a teenage spy.

i have so many thoughts that i can't properly articulate. obviously this is a simplified chain of events, but yassen and his choices set off a chain reaction of the world's most unfortunate dominos. especially when you read russian roulette. to be clear im not necessarily trying to blame him for everything because that feels very mean. he was also just a 14 year old kid when everything in his life went wrong, just like alex. only difference being yassen literally had no one.

i think i should write an essay about this because i haven't even gotten into my thoughts about what yassen and alex's dynamic would look like past eagle strike. i would imagine it'd be similar to ellie and joel from the last of us part 2.

where obviously yassen loves alex and alex on some level cares for yassen back but struggles to reconcile that with the fact that yassen is responsible for his uncle's death. a very unforgivable act. it would be so messy and complicated and angsty, because on one hand here is an adult who truly cares about him and has a connection with him through his father. yassen could tell alex about john, and trust that yassen truly wants whats best for him. but he killed ian, and he cannot take that back.

while alex reels from those feelings, yassen is also trying to reconcile his love of alex with the knowledge that he on some level is responsible for the suffering alex endured at the hands of mi6. and possibly even the fact that alex's godfather is the one who killed john and helen.

[imekitty]

Today I worked on:

Disillusioned: 303 words

Last sentence written:

Yes, that was right, down on the floor like a good—

[lostinthewalls]

TLT Chapter 5

Breaking Blaire

TW for this chapter: Panic attack, angst, swearing

As always, story under the cut!!

It would be a harsh lie if Evan said he was totally fine right now. Staring in the mirror, the tips of his hair soaking wet and glued to his forehead, he felt...odd.

The feeling wasn’t exactly anxiety. Unless it was...and he just didn’t know it. It was a strange knot in his chest, tucked deep in the depths of his internals where he couldn’t reach it. He took a deep breath, flinging his hair back and splashing more water onto his face.

He grabbed his glasses from the marble counter, folding the arms in and holding them in one hand while he made the slow, agonizing walk back to his room.

Each step made the knot in his chest tighten. Each sound of his socks thumping on the hardwood floor only made the teen more hyperaware of his brand-new houseguest. A shiver ran down his spine, and he dragged his free hand down his face.

He stood around the corner for a moment before walking into the room, his blurry vision darting over to the top of the dresser. The signature tuft of white hair wasn’t there. A jolt of shivers ran down Evan’s spine before he quickly remembered he had moved him to the bed nest he had totally forgot making in the first place.

He was still in a pretty bad trance as his eyes glazed across the blankets, blinking tiredly. It looked like Blaire was there...

Just for good measure, he unfolded his glasses, shoving them onto his face. He was glad he did, because when he looked back, Blaire was nowhere to be seen.

“Uhm- Blaire-?” Evan nearly whispered, his eyes searching the room. Until he found it, a small shape huddled close to the wall, only a few feet away from the nest.

Blaire. His instincts kicked in and he stepped over to the wall, crouching down for a better look, pushing his glasses further onto his face.

Blaire instinctively threw his hands up to shield his face, scrambling against the wall like a scared mouse as his injured ankle stayed splayed awkwardly, still perfectly wrapped in the splint.

Evan’s eyes widened but he didn’t move towards him. He got to his feet again, taking a step backward and sitting down a foot away from him, hugging his knees to his chest, resting his head on top of them.

“Aren’t you going to do something?” Blaire almost growled at him after a painfully long bout of silence. Evan was confused. What did he mean do something...?

“What?” He responded, keeping his voice low. Blaire sucked in a breath and barked a strained laugh, tugging at the ends of his hair.

“You IDIOT! DO SOMETHING YOU HUMANS NORMALLY DO!! SCREAM, YELL, TRAP ME, I DON’T CARE. JUST DO SOMETHING. DON’T JUST SIT THERE.”

The pure ferocity in Blaire’s tone made Evan flinch back in alarm. Blaire seemed to get his courage, though, as he pulled himself to his feet, limping towards him, pointing an accusatory finger at him as the sound of barely held back sobs made his speech more pathetic by the minute.

“ALL THIS TIME YOU’VE BEEN- BEEN ACTING LIKE- LIKE A SAINT OR SOMETHING. LIKE YOU- YOU'RE ACTUALLY TRYING TO HELP. I’M NOT- I'M NOT FALLING FOR IT.”

“But- I am actually trying to--”

“Shut UP. JUST SHUT UP. I KNOW WHAT THIS IS- IT'S- IT'S A PLOY. A TRICK. IT ALWAYS IS. IT ALWAYS HAS BEEN.”

Evan practically glued his mouth shut as Blaire struggled to find his next words through choked back tears. The little teen coughed, taking a few steps backwards to collect himself once his rant was finished.

The two sat there for what seemed like eons while Blaire paced in frantic circles, screaming profanities and insults just to cover up his shaky breakdown. Evan carefully drew his phone from his pocket, checking the time. Almost 1 AM. He’d be in trouble.

But he told himself that didn’t matter right now, quietly sitting there, the sympathetic knot in his chest clawing its way up to his throat, gagging him, leaving him stunned.

He picked at the sleeve of his turtleneck for a minute before finally making his decision. If Blaire was so scared of him, maybe he could make this better for both of them. Even if it was just for one night.

“I- I’m actually trying to help. I hope you know that...” He began, his tone barely a whisper, forcing his own sob down his throat, averting his eyes.

Blaire’s puffy, red eyes snapped over to him, wide with fear and filled with a primal hatred. His hands shook as he clenched them into fists, about to respond, before he bit his tongue and held himself back.

Maybe this was a good time for some self-control.

Evan made no attempt to reach for him, swallowing thickly before continuing with his shaky request.

“Just- stay here. Just for tonight and a bit of tomorrow morning. Just so I can make sure you're okay. Tomorrow afternoon- you can go back home- wherever your home is. I’ll never bother you again.”

He hoped against all odds Blaire would accept the compromise, and he brought his eyes up to stare at him once more.

Blaire averted his eyes first this time, steeling himself, taking a more confident stance, almost like his breakdown never even happened.

“...Fine. Deal. Tonight, and tomorrow morning- that's it.” Blaire scowled a half-confident response that Evan was thankful for, turning his head towards the nest still laying peacefully on the floor.

Now that adrenaline had worn off, he was exhausted. Between running for his life and ditching his whole facade to save his life, it truly had taken its toll on him.

“That’s it.” Evan confirmed, standing back up, starting to organize the blankets on his own bed, trying not to turn back and glance down at Blaire, though his instincts urged him too.

He heard Blaire hit the ground after a few minutes, however, and that was the cue to turn around. He whipped his head around, craning his neck downwards.

Sure enough, Blaire was sitting, legs extended in front of him as he furiously tried to tighten the splint keeping his ankle intact. Evan faltered, watching him before walking back over.

“Here- move your arms...” He whispered, and thankfully, Blaire quickly put them behind his back, watching him with a careful gaze.

He bent down, untying the already loose knot, tying it again tighter than before, pausing to glance to Blaire.

Their faces were so close...Blaire could almost reach out and tap the tip of his nose. Evan chased away the thought, clearing his throat.

“Is this tight enough...?”

“Yeah...should be fine.” Blaire muttered in a hoarse tone, squeezing his eyes shut as Evan retied the knot, making it more stable this time.

Once he was done, he held out his hand towards Blaire, an offer to help him to his feet.

Surprisingly, he accepted it, latching both hands around his ring finger, pulling himself to his feet.

“Thanks.” The smaller teen said quietly, making the journey back to the nest in the corner as Blaire climbed into his own bed, grabbing the LED light remote.

“Have a nice night, Blaire. I’m-- sorry about all this.” Evan spoke to the ceiling, powering off the lights and setting the remote on the floor again.

No response came, not that he needed one, though, But, once he was fast asleep, one eventually did, ringing out in the quiet room.

“It’s okay.”

END NOTES

Oh dear...the final chapter of our boys being relatively peaceful before we get into the depths of the story. Don't worry! They'll be okay!! Although...something is bound to happen soon... wonder what it is?

[nejackdaw]

(reads my own fic) woah. I'm so good at my job

[purpleqilinwrites]

better than.

a/n: i fell in love with danmeshi over the weekend! i have so many thoughts and feelings about chilchuck and his wife and their daughters, so i wanted to write something about them. i wish we knew her name! since there's no canon name for her (yet??? please! i'm manifesting), i gave her one mostly for ease of fic writing but also because i think she should have one haha.

fandom: dungeon meshi

pairing: chilchuck tims / chilchuck's wife

genre: angst, general

info: told from the perspective of the wife; she is named (junnimay); takes place pre-canon

warnings: might not be canon-compliant

synopsis: for the better, she comes to learn that moving with the tides of life is a mercy in itself.

word count: 3.3k

Chilchuck Tims / Chilchuck's Wife

The apple trees were starting to clothe themselves in pale pink blossoms, releasing a sweet fragrance into the air. Kahka Brud took it as a sign of the winter's end, shedding off the furs and double-lined coats of the coldest months, and so did Junnimay. Reaching for one of the thinner woollen cloaks hanging by the front door, she whispered, "I'll be back soon, Fler," to her still-sleeping daughter before setting out for an early morning walk.

A contrary breeze made it difficult for her to shut the door quietly, a rather unceremonious slam of wood against wood following a series of laboured grunts from her lips. Fler had always been able to sleep through even the most turbulent of autumn storms; a little noise a ways from her bed surely wouldn't stir her from her needed rest.

Junnimay wiped her palms down on her cloak even if they weren't sweaty, and she started on the unpaved path that led to one of the larger streets of Kahka Brud.

At the place where the narrow local paths merged into the cobblestone main street, she greeted the elderly gnome couple having breakfast in their front yard. The younger of the two women stopped her with a shout in Gnomish and then waved for her to come closer. She approached the line of potted miniature trees that formed a makeshift fence between the public walkway and the gnome couple's property, and the elderly gnome pressed a still-warm bun into her cupped hands.

With a smile, she thanked the women in Gnomish, biting into the bread and telling them how delicious it was before she continued down the main street. As she chewed on a particularly large cluster of candied orange peel bits in her next bite, she pondered visiting the farmer's market on the way home so that Fler could have some candied orange buns to share at the tailor shop where she worked. It would be good to make a larger batch to share with the neighbours, too.

A splash of deep reddish brown dragged her attention to the present, the burst of colour out of place among the blush-pink apple blossoms and the grey-brown tree barks and the yellow-streaked blue sky. Junnimay almost dropped the last bit of the bun gifted to her, eyes wide as she took in the sight before her.

There were two half-foots under the large apple tree at the end of the street that opened to the southern market district. One of them shook out a grey bedroll that was much too large to have been designed for half-foot use, and the two of them took turns scooching into it and then reclining to watch the clouds.

The taller of the half-foot pair sported an uncannily familiar head of auburn hair, poking out of their shared bedroll that was made for one tall-man but could apparently fit two half-foots comfortably. She chucked what was left of the bun into her mouth before she took slow steps towards the mouth of the market district, keeping her eyes on the half-foot couple the whole time.

They paid her no mind, even if her gaze never left them minutes and minutes after coming from behind them to appear in front of them. They were too in love to notice her.

Chilchuck was lying in bed next to her, but his back had never felt so far.

Even when Junnimay was a child relentlessly chasing after him and his older siblings in a game of tag melded with hide and go seek, the distance of rows upon rows of tomato plants between her parents' house and his was tiny in comparison to the hand's breadth that separated Chilchuck's sleeping form from her. The entirety of the vast tomato field was easily crossed under her quick and stubborn feet, possible to traverse. She didn't feel the same way about stretching her hand out to touch her husband.

When she had yelled something or the other about getting caught in the tomato vines, Chilchuck would've instantly turned around and run to her. He always did, even if it meant that he would lose to his older brother, the person he hated losing to the most. She remembered that being the reason why she liked him; when she called for him, he made haste to come to her.

If she woke him up at this point in their lives, years and years after playing games with ever-changing rules in the tomato field that belonged to everyone in the village, would he be quick to awaken and ask her if there was anything troubling her? If there was anything he could do to help?

Chilchuck shifted as if her thoughts were so loud that they woke him. She squeezed her eyes and mouth shut, pretending to sleep the way their daughters did when they were still red-faced in the way half-foot children usually were in their most tender years. His blanket swished when Chilchuck pulled it tighter around himself, curling in on himself and inching all the more away from her. All was still on his side of the bed after.

She fell into a true sleep as she pretended. While pretending, she was trying to remember the last time her husband broke out into a run coming to her simply because she had called his name.

The neatly placed line of dark bottles filled with various alcohols that Chilchuck accumulated over the years never looked so inviting to Junnimay.

Between her and her husband, he was consistently the more avid drinker. Since she first discovered she was pregnant with Mei and Fler, she found that she hadn't had the same taste for alcohol that she once had as an adolescent. She used to sneak sips from her father's hidden stash of ales from time to time, careful never to take more than a single large mouthful off the top of the bottles that were full.

With Chilchuck out accompanying yet another party of adventurers to one of the dungeons scattered around Kahka Brud and her three daughters asleep, Junnimay thought it was a better opportunity than ever to indulge in a little alcohol. It has been years since the last time she partook, after all.

She tiptoed to grab hold of the bottle she felt was most appealing, the scarlet label on the front boasting that the mead within contained floral honey from a well-known apiary on the Southern Continent. Pouring herself an economical portion into a dark glass cup, she settled into the alcove overlooking the sea and cracked the window open to feel the salty night-time winds on her face.

"Mama," came a sleep-addled voice from past the kitchen and down the hallway. Junnimay made it to the dining table when she found her firstborn daughter rubbing her eyes at the threshold that separated the kitchen from the rooms.

"Mama," Mei said again, sounding a little more awake than she did the first time. "I think Dad's not coming back yet."

The staunchness in her daughter's statement made her inwardly flinch, and she tried her best not to show it on her face. Mei had always been an unusually perceptive child, and it worried her that her daughter might be picking up on the growing unhappiness between her and Chilchuck. She wouldn't be able to bury it from her girls forever, but she wanted to keep any marital issues hidden from their young and still innocent eyes. The world should be sunny and kind when they gazed upon it, more beautiful and right than when she was the one looking.

Junnimay put on a smile, approaching her daughter and putting her arms around her, stroking at her head of wild ginger hair. It soothed her somewhat when Mei immediately buried her face in her chest, her comparably smaller fingers clutching at the cotton of her sleeping tunic.

"Not for a while, little heart," she said, vacantly running the fingers of her right hand through Mei's hair to untangle the knots. "But he'll be back."

It had only been two days since Chilchuck left for his most recent dungeon expedition. He had never been one to complete a job sooner than he said he would, diligently seeing to it that the task he agreed upon beforehand was carried out as promised. It made him an excellent addition to any adventurer's party, but she realised it also made him an absent father and an unavailable husband.

"He'll miss my birthday again," were the condemning words Mei chose for Chilchuck, muffled from the way she was pressing into her mother and clinging. Junnimay's heart twisted at the disappointment in her daughter's voice, as if her father had let her down for the final time.

Mei suppressed a sniffle and tried to mask it with a sound of exasperation, little fingers starting to pinch at her flesh beneath the fistfuls of fabric already within her hold.

It reminded her that Mei, while able to pick up on subtle things that most children weren't, was still a child. It reminded her that Mei still needed her protection.

It reminded her that she was failing quite miserably.

Chilchuck was at the door for the first time in almost three years, and it was akin to seeing a ghost when she swung the door open, not quite knowing if it was definitely him after hearing his voice on the other side. Junnimay blinked twice, squeezing her eyes shut as she quickly completed a simple incantation of protection taught to her by one of the gnome neighbours, and then opened them once again. He was still there, so she moved aside so he could come in.

"The girls are all out today," she said, leaning against the closed front door to resume lacing up her work boots. "Puck's staying with a work friend in the meantime, so you won't be seeing her until she comes back at the end of winter."

He seemed rather displeased at her lukewarm reaction to his return home, but he didn't mention it. Mirroring the burgeoning pile of her grievances about their marriage, she kept silent when he pretended there wasn't anything to complain about. It was a complicated dance that the two of them had perfected over the years, intimately familiar with each step.

"Where are you headed?" Chilchuck asked, sweeping his eyes over her attire as if he were scanning his lock-picking toolkit for signs of wear and tear. She hated it, and it was bitter when she swallowed the feeling with an increasing level of ease, automatic.

"To the bakery," she said, needlessly undoing the fastening tie of her cloak and doing it up again, tighter the second time around. "My shift ends late, so don't wait up for me. There's leftover cured meat and cheese from Mei and Fler's birthday dinner last week in the pantry, if you want to eat."

Chilchuck crossed his arms rather aggressively as she spoke, and she felt validated at his show of displeasure. She was starting to become suspicious that he believed their marriage to be as intact as it was when they were walking away from the ceremony, but it gave her a twisted sense of unity that they were both looking at the same cracks and being afflicted with the same unpleasant feelings.

"The one along Third Street, right?" he asked.

It sounded to her like he was running out of things to say, and it made her all the more eager to get out of the house and fall back into the safety of her daily routine in which he was entirely absent. She had become comfortable as a mother of three daughters whose father's only contribution was a pouch of gold coins every full moon, delivered to the door by an administrative employee of the local Adventurer's Guild.

The money he provided for her and for the girls has been slowly and steadily increasing over the years, and she was glad that he appeared to be making a name for himself as a skilled locksmith. There was a sudden jump in the weight of the pouch put in her hands a few months ago. She wanted to ask about it since Chilchuck was here, but ultimately decided not to, keeping her questions about his work and his time in the dungeons of Kahka Brud close to her heart instead.

There was once that he had snapped at her for being too curious about his work, and that one time was enough for her to become unnecessarily cautious when speaking to her husband about the jobs he undertook.

She nodded, putting a hand on the doorknob and finding solace in the coolness of the metal against her skin. The silence between her and Chilchuck felt awkward with how large it was, taking more space in the house than even the house itself. When it became apparent that he had indeed run out of things to say, she pushed the front door open and stepped out.

"I'm off," she said, expecting him to regroup with a new adventurer's party on yet another dungeon expedition by the time she returned from her own work at the bakery.

In the early hours of the morning when she found herself home again, Mei and Fler were asleep in their beds. They left a note for her on the dinner table, saying that they ate at the tavern close to the main street and that they brought back a portion of wild boar stew for her in case she was hungry.

For once meeting her expectations at the exact line where she drew them, Chilchuck was nowhere to be found.

Mei was taller than her now.

It was obvious that her daughter was bending at the waist to give her a greeting hug, the height difference between them further exaggerated by the thick soles of Mei's work boots. A bittersweet sense of awe nipped at Junnimay as she was reminded once again how much Mei resembled her father.

"Mama," Mei said, linking her arm with her mother's as the two of them wandered the Central Market on an impromptu stop on the way to Fler's home. Junnimay thought it would be nice to take a long walk with her firstborn, since Mei had taken the opportunity to surprise her by picking her up from the bakery on one of her rare free days. "You deserve to be happy, you know?"

Junnimay froze mid-appraisal of the many kinds of honey on display at the store on her left, slack-jawed and wide-eyed as she turned her head to face her daughter. Where was this coming from? Briefly, her thoughts led her to the husband she recently left, and it brought to the forefront of her mind once again her every reason for finally acting upon what was in her heart.

Mei seemed to be taken aback by her mother's inarticulate but apparently tumultuous contemplation, so she cleared her throat, eyes darting to the side as she visibly mulled over her next words. "I saw you talking with a gnome uncle at the bakery. Your smile was so bright," she said, beginning to pick at the unoccupied holes in her belt with her free hand. "And I can't remember the old man ever looking at you the way the gnome does. I think you can be happy with him, now that the old man's out of the picture."

Bodies were skimming the pair of them in the passing as they stood in one of the many footpaths in the Kahka Brud's largest market. There were many sights to behold and smells to contemplate, and there were even more wares on sale. She had to be mindful of pickpockets in a crowd as thick as the one that eternally thronged this market, but she could only focus on the determined jut of her daughter's chin.

"I'm just saying," Mei said, making eye contact with her after allowing her a moment to ponder. "I want you to be happy. Fler and Puck, too. You deserve it more than most people."

Junnimay moved her arm from its curled position around Mei's and used it to pull Mei into a one-armed hug, squeezing. The wet warmth of tears pricked at her eyes, and she gave her daughter the widest smile she could muster in an attempt to keep her face from crumpling the way it did when she cried.

"I am happy, little heart," she said. "But I think I'm not made for a second marriage."

She watched the gears turn in Mei's head from behind the screen of tears in her eyes. Wiping at her face with the back of her other hand, she apologised instinctively to a male voice that yelled a phrase in Elvish for her to move from somewhere in the mass of people behind her.

Mei sported a scowl as she scanned the crowd over her mother's head to see who was intruding on their conversation. Junnimay laughed, making sure to steer herself and her daughter closer to the wall between the honey store and the one beside it.

"Did the old man ruin it for you? Marriage, I mean," Mei said, after her sweep of the crowd proved unsuccessful. The majority of the market-goers were tall-men who unintentionally blocked her view of the offending elf, lost in the commotion.

Junnimay felt the need to put on a smile, but remembered that Mei was too old to fall for it. Mei had been too old to believe her fanfare of a reassuring smile since she was just a child.

"His father told us that since we liked each other, we should marry. So we did," she said. The memories trickled into her mind's eye slowly, obstructed by years and years of trying to fill the space of both mother and father for her girls. Looking back on her childhood in a small village where everyone was a half-foot was akin to looking into an old spyglass, trying with much difficulty to spot something on the far horizon.

Chilchuck's father was far more authoritarian than hers ever was; if he said something was to happen, everyone around him made sure it happened. Her father, while affronted by the other half-foot's demand, was agreeable to the match and gave her his blessing since she had insisted that she liked Chilchuck enough to marry him.

"I wanted my parents to be happy, and I liked the idea of marriage at that time. I didn't stop to think about if marriage was the right thing for me," she said.

Noting Mei's silence and hoping to assuage any anxieties her daughter might have, Junnimay gave her another squeeze, smiling without the express intention of consoling. "But I don't regret marrying your father. Because of him, I have you and Fler and Puck. I gained the world's best daughters."

Mei chuckled at her bold proclamation, sighing affectionately when she leaned up to press kisses to her daughter's cheek. "Mama, you say embarrassing things sometimes," were the words that Mei spoke, but Junnimay knew her well enough to hear the words she actually wanted to say. She smiled into Mei's jaw.

"Are three daughters better than a husband?" Mei asked, a cheeky glint lighting up her eyes.

Junnimay squeezed her yet again, a tense fist of unease inside her chest loosening with the surrender of a long-kept confession that bared her heart. Even the golden afternoon rays of sun became brighter and more beautiful, her secret feelings being received most graciously by her firstborn. She was sure they would be received similarly by Fler and Puck too; the three of them were all warm-hearted women whom she was proud to have birthed and raised.

"By a thousand tall-men leaps and bounds, three daughters are infinitely better than a husband."

[honeyconez]

guys hear me out would painis cupcake pay taxes? Because he’s not like mega insane like ass pancakes I think he’d pay his taxes in my professional opinion.

[heart-of-roses-and-quartz]

Feelings? Ew.

Shilou tries to run from his feelings.

His feelings catch up.

It all started the day after he'd met Aventurine.

He wasn't even sure of how it all started; he injected himself into a conversation about cat cakes and asked him to keep them away from him—damn his allergies—to which Aventurine apologized for.

'Why is he apologizing to me?'

Within the next few days, Aventurine found his way to his office and gifted him a cat cake plush, decorated to look exactly like him.

He took care not to snag any part of it on his joints as he examined it, his eyes welling with-

'What? Why am I...'

And after that day, Aventurine found any opportunity he could to be around him.

"Mr. Rose Quartz! There you are~"

"Rose Quartz, good to see you~"

"Good morning, Rosie~"

At first, he took it in stride. It was only silly nicknames, possibly infatuation with his robotic limbs—he was more than used to that—so he thought nothing of it.

Until he started inviting him out.

It started small. Inviting him out to dinner, to go to the casino just for fun, to hang out together while on a mission, "Just for a little while! You've gotta learn to relax, Rosie~"

He was wary. Of course he was, Aventurine was his superior, why wouldn't he be wary?

Was he trying to get under his skin?

Trying to butter him up?

So he could use him and then discard him?

He tried to keep his distance, he really did.

But those eyes of his...

And it didn't help that Dr. Ratio accompanied them practically everywhere they went.

He was always there, following close behind Aventurine with a constant displeased look—when he didn't have his bust on—and making small, snide remarks every so often towards him.

He didn't like him at first.

But as more time passed, more days he dragged himself along on their adventures, Ratio grew on him.

The way his eyes softened when Aventurine did something slightly stupid, the adorable smile that graced his face from time to time, looking at Aventurine.

Oh, and Aventurine...

His eyes practically commanded his attention, drawn to them every time we was around him. They were so unique, so pretty—so unlike his own.

He was so unique, so—

Oh.

Oh no.

He couldn't be.

He blinked, and suddenly realized.

"Am I...catching feelings?"

That wouldn't do.

He began avoiding Aventurine and Ratio like the plague. He almost ran the other way when Aventurine was nearby, refusing to make eye contact with him.

He couldn't risk being pulled into the enchanting siren song of his eyes.

He avoided his messages from Aventurine, didn't pick up any calls, despite his heart hammering in his chest every time he saw Aventurine's contact light up his screen.

He couldn't risk it.

He couldn't risk contact with Ratio, either. He was equally as beautiful as Aventurine, that dammned smile of his captivating him to no end.

This went on for only another week before Aventurine finally cornered him, Ratio not far behind, and started asking questions.

"Rose Quartz, what's the matter? Why have you been ignoring us?"

"Is everything alright?"

"Please, talk to us."

"Rose Quartz?"

"Rosie?"

He kept his head down, not looking at them. He couldn't, he couldn't risk it. If he looked into Aventurine's eyes, saw Ratio's smile, saw them- he'd be done for, he'd—

"Rose," Aventurine spoke softly, calmly, as if he wasn't speaking to Rose Quartz. As if he was speaking to... "Please. Is everything okay?"

He came closer, gently cupping his head in his hands, lifting him up to look at—

He was gone almost immediately.

The second they locked eyes, Shilou's fate was sealed. His face went red, fingers twitching. He wanted to grab onto him, pull him closer and yet push him away, kiss him and yet slap him, hold him close–

"I-I love you," He mumbled almost immediately, not even recognizing his own voice for a moment. "I– I love you. Both of you. And I'm scared."

Aventurine blinked, looking back at Ratio for a moment.

He—for once in his life—looked dumbfounded.

Aventurine looked back at Shilou, tears threatening to spill over—and ruin his makeup, he spent hours fixing it this morning—and gave him a soft smile, rubbing his cheekbones with his thumb.

"Is that all?" He asked, almost amused. "We thought there was something really wrong..."

He stayed silent, trying to will the tears away. He couldn't cry, not only would it ruin his perfect makeup, but he would be crying in front of his superior, it would make him seem weak—

Aventurine pulled him into a hug, and the dam broke.

Carefully, he wrapped his arms around Aventurine's, digging his fingers into his back as he silently cried, mumbling apologies for staining his jacket with his tears.

Aventurine shushed him, only hugging him tighter. He looked back at Ratio and gave a small nod and smile, to which he smiled back and approached, enveloping Shilou in a hug from behind.

It was so warm.

It was the best feeling in the world—which, to him, was confined to just the three of them in that moment—and he reveled in every second of it, despite the tears that stained Aventurine's jacket.

He'd never felt so loved.

And he wanted to keep it that way.

@serendipminie

thought you would wanna see it hehe :33