#some people just live in a completely different world

[zshiftsrealties]

MANIFESTATION, AND IT'S CORE

this isn't a FUCKING joke. all of this isn't some big lie just so people can mess with you.

it's not "too good to be true", it's not "one day I will", it's not "can I?", it's not it's not it's not. it's REAL, it's LITERAL, it's YOURS.

it's different names for the SAME FUCKING THING. IT'S ALL THE SAME. one's not harder than the other, one's not easier than the other. it's the EXACT same.

lucid dreaming is the same as shifting which is same as manifesting which is same as the void. it's all the same. THE ESSENCE OF IT IS ALL THE SAME.

and the FACT is that it's all yours. NO, you don't have the "power to do it" because YOU DON'T NEED THAT BULLSHIT. it's YOURS.

there's no "specific time", "special day", "the one moment", "the one word" that'll make you shift/everything else. there's no nothing. there's nothing that youll find that'll "make you" shift. there's no secret formula, secret recipe, "oh, maybe I'm doing this wrong", "wait, maybe if I do this", "maybe if I try that". there's just you, and everything that's already yours. SO OWN UP TO IT. SAY IT WITH YOUR DAMN CHEST THAT IT'S YOURS. say it so loud that even someone in the DEPTHS of HELL and in the HEIGHTS of HEAVEN can hear that IT'S YOURS!! say it with such a sense of entitlement that GOD HIMSELF hears you, sees you, and acknowledges you!

IT'S YOURS, IT'S YOURS, IT'S YOURS. say it until you feel sick of it. say it until your brain's fried. say it until you're out of it. say it UNTIL YOU CAN MEAN IT when you say IT'S YOURS.

one assumption, one assumption is all it takes. one sentence that you don't question. hell, question it even. doesn't matter. even so, one assumption is what it takes to be the you who has it all. the assumption that you ARE the you who has it all.

don't even believe. don't. don't even think twice. don't bother at all. don't do nothing. you don't NEED to do nothing. because you already are the you who has what you want.

what you desire was already yours before it was even put in your heart. it has been yours when it appeared. its completely yours when you work towards having it. it's yours to enjoy when you finally have it. so enjoy it throughout. enjoy it when you're persisting that you have it. enjoy it when an intrusive thought arises. enjoy it when you question it's validity. because it was yours the moment the big bang happened, and it was yours before it happened, and it was yours when nothing existed, and it's yours when the world ends. it's yours from start to end.

if it wasn't yours, it would've passed you by, and you wouldn't even have any idea. if it wasn't yours, you wouldn't be here right now. if it wasn't yours, you wouldn't be trying even if you're doubting it. if it wasn't yours, it wouldn't have found you in a hundred lifetimes.

you cannot make this shit up. it's a FACT. you don't find anything. whatever is yours, finds you. you cannot escape what's yours. that is your blessing. take it. own it. live it.

you're NEVER chasing. your desires chase you. they WANT to be yours.you CAN live without them. you definitely can. they can't. but since they're yours, they move with you, and so in your frame, it looks like you're chasing after them. that you have to have them. SO WIDEN YOUR FRAME. WIDEN THAT FUCKING PICTURE. ZOOM THE FUCK OUT. SEE, that they continue chasing after you, trying to catch up. so own them. stop running. give yourself a break. take a breather. what are you chasing after anyway? when everything is yours since the beginning of the world, and even before that. you're making your life awfully like Achilles's. stop going so fast that you pass your desires and then end up behind them. stop running in circles. stop, and relax. you've reached the end line. you ARE the end line. let your desires come to YOU. that's what you deserve, and that is EXACTLY what you have.

you will have exactly what you intend. intention matters, and actions follow. so intend big, assume the "impossible", and watch it appear before you. the mind is a powerful thing. it always works in your favor, but only if you keep it under your control. do not let it even DARE to think it can control you. don't YOU ever think it can control you. sit down with it. tell it your desires. tell it that you already HAVE your desires. and most importantly, tell it that it has to work for you NO MATTER WHAT. because that is what it's supposed to do. that's it's purpose.

no, you're not GOD. you're YOU. that's your power. GOD has too much to take care of. the wind; it's direction, the water; its flow, the rain; where it falls, the leaves; when they wither, your next breath that you'll take, every single person on this once fully green Earth. he's constantly taking care of everyone else. do you have the time to take care of every single individual alive and breathing right now? honestly, no. you're not gonna sit here saying "oh, yeah. let me pay the debts of someone on the other end of the world who probably doesn't even know me". I know I won't. is that selfish? I don't care. I deserve everything that I want as much as anyone else in this whole wide world. so no. NO NO NO. you're nothing, but YOU. you don't "make it happen", you don't have to. you assume, it happens. you intend, its here. that's YOU. you don't have to sit down and plan HOW what you want will happen, you sit down and assume it'll happen, and it will.

anyways, yeah. you get the point. you are you, do not try to be anything or anyone else. be you, do you, for you. and everything will be yours. it already is. you are the CORE, the CENTER, the start and the end.

[yourgamemasterthewhiterabbit]

108, Canada. First of all, I would have died in my 20s when I got appendicitis, if I did at all.

Secondly, being as I am living off a disability pension now, I genuinely don't know if being part of a hunter-gatherer society in the year 108 would have been worse. I know the conventional wisdom is that of course the past wasn't better for anyone. But the year 108 seems a little early for the kind of sexism people are thinking of, and it's not like I am not systematically denied healthcare now. Covid wouldn't exist yet, and there is some chance I'd actually be part of a community where my skills were appreciated, despite whatever weird hangups or disabilities I have. The biggest question would be whether they'd be cool with me not wanting to fuck, or pair off, or have kids. Or whether I could survive and tolerate being forced to have kids.

I'd definitely be a lot colder for much of the year. Probably.

The thing about already having a very low quality of life is that short of dying there isn't much anywhere to go but up, and I don't think that early humans could end up "homeless" the way people can today, so I don't think that particular downgrade is on the table. I haven't done anything that's really an 'abandon this person and kick them out of the group' level offense. I write stories, I do lots of crafts, I can cook and repair things and I am good at visually identifying subtle differences. I don't think I'd be less hyper-competent in other time, but my skills would be FAR more valued.

The quality of life I have now is largely owed to my own resourcefulness in the face of completely lacking any support stricture or appropriate finances or the care that gets provided to the guy next to me. Like Yeah I wouldn't have my pension, but I also wouldn't be expected to have money to be allowed to build myself a shelter or go get myself food.

That all said, I also only ever got appendicitis because of a lead bullet and I don't think they had those then???? So maybe I'd be fine actually??

Like it would be DIFFERENT as fuck, but better or worse might be highly subjective when your pension is 1200 and your rent is 1000. We take for granted how much benefit we get just by existing in the modern world but we maybe also underestimate how many people are simply cut out of those benefits mattering to them. The aspects of modern convenience I am ALREADY cut out of due to poverty, disability and specifically Covid isn't trivial. I struggle to think of a modern amenity I rely on for basic quality of life that would not have an equivalent that might even be more accessible to me.

Some minor conveniences that I can actually make use of wouldn't be there sure, but so many of the things that destroyed my health or habitually set it back also just didn't exist them or wouldn't have happened.

I'm not saying I'd prefer it. I'd go nuts without the internet for a start. I want novels, and the internet and comics and modern music. I like some video games... But the version of me that never knew these things? Would their objective quality of life be worse?

The 1800's would be worse, the year 1000 would be worse... But the year 108? I genuinely don't know. Humans are resilient. I've been unfathomably resilient. Multiple chemical sensitivities probably wouldn't even be a thing I'd have to think about in a world where I had the diet of a hunter gatherer, it actually lines up pretty well with what I can even eat now. I'd have less cheese though, sad.

The decade you’re given is the decade to which you’re transported. Your geographic location doesn’t change; only the time period changes. “Equivalent QOL” means a qualify of life that approximates the life you have now and anticipate being able to have in the future.

[halorvic]

December 30, 2024

Arijit Chakravarty: “Learn to live with it,” for other diseases doesn’t mean the same thing as we have applied to COVID. When we say we must learn to live with leprosy, we don’t mean let’s make sure everybody has leprosy. When we say we must learn to live with malaria, we don’t mean let’s make sure everyone gets malaria as often as possible, let’s keep mosquitoes lurking in our tanks outside our house. No one says you must learn to live with tuberculosis. Let’s let it spread as much as possible and see how that goes. No, we suppress those diseases every step along the way. We suppress dengue. We suppress tuberculosis. This whole idea that learning to live with the disease means permitting and encouraging its rampant spread and rapid evolution is just so many levels of stupidity that I don’t have a word for it.

Benjamin Mateus: I’d like to know your thoughts on Trump and RFK Jr., his choice for secretary of health? RFK Jr. has been at the head of vaccine disinformation and anti-public health policies. They are calling for ending any cooperation with the World Health Organization. These will have immense consequences for public health globally. These are political questions, but often I hear scientists do not want to engage in political questions and feel uncomfortable about it. Can we avoid the political implications?

AC: Look, it’s not that I don’t want to get political. It’s that if I was going to get political, I don’t know who to hold up as an example. There’s not a government in the world that has handled this correctly. There’s not a party in this world that’s handled it correctly. It’s all different flavors of stupid. Pick your poison. The Democrats went out of their way to normalize mass infection. They went out of their way to lie about the vaccines and say, “If you’re vaccinated, the pandemic was over.” That was completely unnecessary. It was completely at odds with science. Then you have Trump in the first Trump administration saying, “Why don’t you drink some bleach?” It would be a comedy if the consequences weren’t so grave. Frankly, wherever you go it’s like this. You look at Canada’s Bonnie Henry (Canadian epidemiologist and physician) in British Columbia. On day one she insisted that the kids wouldn’t get infected. Then she went and published a paper, put her own name on it, bragging about how herd immunity has been achieved because 90 percent of Canadian kids have been infected. In the UK you had the hearings on the public health response by the UK government. They noted that the government failed to act quickly. There was no clear policy approach, and they even abandoned contact tracing in mid-March of 2020. They even said that masks don’t help stop the spread and the virus wasn’t airborne. It’s a disgrace. Politicians worldwide have decided that they can brazen out their way through this. And the reason for this is they’ve been advised by a certain set of scientists, a relatively small number of scientists, who have essentially sold out. There are tens of thousands of papers, if not hundreds of thousands of papers, on the risks of COVID. You could literally find thousands of scientists who would be willing to go up in front of the House of Representatives and testify that getting COVID repeatedly is bad for you. Where are those scientists? Nobody’s listening to them. They’re listening to the scientists who whisper in their ears and say that everything will be okay. Ryan Gregory and I wrote a Substack blog post a while back called Calm Mongering where we talk about this—that people have weaponized the logic of science in the service of propaganda by saying, “that’s just a hypothesis.” As soon as you bring up a risk, these “experts” shut down the conversation about the risk by saying we’re not sure that’ll happen. But in fact, that’s an inversion of the precautionary principle. And it’s a lot of the tactics that were used by the merchants of doubt during the tobacco era. The merchants of doubt were a subset of a very small number of corrupt, well-connected and well-funded scientists who went out of their way to make public statements that were at odds with the body of literature that was coming out on lung cancer and tobacco. And we are seeing the exact same thing again. Big tobacco sponsored a bunch of corrupt scientists to create a counter-narrative to reality. This time around, who’s playing the role of big tobacco? It’s the politicians and governments. But the exact same thing is playing out. That nexus between this group of corrupt scientists and politicians who are actively funding their work is a global phenomenon. Unfortunately, I hate to say this, but it’s going to take reality breaking through to solve this. They’ve been very effective at convincing people that this is not a problem you need to worry about.

[luvmanifesting]

PERMASHIFTING SOON

haiiiii :3 okay so guys im scripting out this new world i’m creating, like a whole different planet entirely. ill be taking everything i’ve manifested here and bring it over to my new world im creating let me give you all a bit of fun facts about my planet/world im creating and some other stuff!

everyone who lives on that planet is automatically considered immortal

“human” race does not exist we can still obviously have human bodies but instead of “race” people will be categorized by rank in civilization (i have to figure out what our species would be called)

7 continents will exist

war will absolutely never exist

languages will be completely different the only language i might bring over is japanese which is my native language

before meeting anyone in that planet you will get a 10 second little mini-movie” of how a person acts and the experiences you will make with them

every choice you make will affect your life (butterfly affect) and you’ll know because everyone on the planet is given a little cute watch that monitors their decisions and warns them of the consequences it’ll have

this planet is absolutely and forever healthy, animals will never go extinct (im not bringing back the dinosaurs or whatever lol. maybeee idk)

everyone in this planet experiences has very strict morals they follow (crime doesn’t exist here)

wealth doesn’t exist and currency doesn’t exist (no, nobody steals everyone here shops normally and peacefully)

social media does not exist here (because there will always be something amazing and fun to do in this world, and people love creating memories with people in this world on polaroids instead of phones)

romance is genuine romance here none of that corny/harsh stuff people here know how to love

mermaids exist (friendly ones only), unicorns exist, Atlantis exists, cute fairies exist (but they only exist on a special continent and everyone respects the continent)

history in this world is completely different and rewritten

schools are immune to stressing anyone out and are always fun and the students here love coming to school

this planet is located in a different universe and different timeline

every continent respects each other (no racism here)

both genders are treated equally

religion does not exist (don’t come for me)

yeah lol this is just a slightly small but big preview after i finish this lol im perm shifting, so i won’t have any memory of this account!! i’ll miss you guys though 🤍

[medeaaa]

I rlly need a fic of viktor and jayce becoming like the power couple of piltover in like the hexgates years

(I knowwww it would be antithetical and reductive of arcane’s themes of isolation and structural oppression regarding viktor ikkk but I want it anyway)(but honestly I think it could be done well in regards to that anyway - think the cost of sacrificing your sense of self and identity in order to fit into a world that fundamentally opposes it, and then being rewarded for it, like I’m thinking about how in the show I think we get hints that viktor holds very true to the parts of him that were forged in the undercity in that he always brings up that the point of science should be to ‘change lives’ and ‘help people’ clearly thinking of his own upbringing and the people in Zaun, as well as how he seems completely detached from the wealthy piltover social scene unlike jayce, and while this is definitely in part due to classist prejudice, I also think Viktor actively shuns the elite and sees them as a source of people’s suffering. It’s also his willingness to hold true to his undercity character that I think makes piltovans avoid and disregard him.

So think if the inverse happened, if viktor caved to the pressures of piltovan social pressure and tried to actively change and hide aspects of himself that the upper class piltovans found distasteful. A bit like jayce in a sense where he’s paraded around and has to change himself to appeal to the council and investors. Like what happens when they both get to be the centre of all this attention and praise and pressure and gossip. If they’re treated like a celebrity couple and they’re both become transformed into symbols of innovation and progress that is simultaneously elevating and dehumanising. And the thing is Viktor would never truly ever feel like he succeeded in fitting in, because he would always be viewed a little bit differently due to his background (I wonder the kind of narratives that piltovans would impose on his story in this scenario if it would be sort of poverty porn esque, the underdog, or the ‘good zaunite’ following what I think arcane behind to explore in s2 with vi’s character) and his disability. But also because Viktor would always have to actively choose to play this part and play at social customs and culture that are not native to him and there would be this constant paranoia or imposter syndrome, where he worries that people can see right through him and are questioning the validity of his apparent acceptance into piltovan society

And also how this would splinter into their relationship and how jayce and viktor would have this joint pressure - would it be easier with them both carrying it, or would resentment of the respective roles they have to play seep into their relationship and interactions with each other? Would there be a fundamental misunderstanding on Jaycee’s part on what exactly it means for viktor to try and assimilate into piltovan society, a society that would be actively hostile to him otherwise?

Idk this started with me just wanting some fluff and it ended up spiralling into this lmao

[uncle-fruity]

I love the new year! It's my favorite holiday, and people who say that nothing changes or resolutions don't work or that everything is bad so there's no point in celebrating miss the point, imo. It's about getting through another year! It's about progressing and surviving and setting intentions for the new year. But too many people think of resolutions and new beginnings as things that have to be Big and Challenging for them to be meaningful, but that's really not how change works.

For the last several years, I've done what I call Resolution Bingo. I think of 24 things that range from Easily Doable to A Challenge and write them out on a bingo sheet. (Free space is always just Stay Alive.) The idea isn't to do all 24, but rather to try to get one or more bingos throughout the year.

I have never actually gotten a bingo (though I've come very close) but it doesn't matter. The point of Resolution Bingo is to put intention out there for the new year. I think of things I want to do or learn or get back into and I put them on my bingo sheet. Because of Resolution Bingo, I've gone to see more live shows than I used to. I've done more art projects & followed through with them. I've visited new places & had new adventures. I've learned new skills in cooking, needlework, and many other areas of interest. I have made both big and small positive steps for my life because of the resolutions I set at the beginning of the year.

So my advice is to think of resolutions as less of a major life change that you want to dive into -- take the stress off. You can make smaller resolutions that help with your bigger goals. I always tell people who decide they also want to do Resolution Bingo that they shouldn't put anything like, "Run daily/weekly," because as soon as you miss a day, it can demotivate you into stopping all together. Or, if you keep it going, you might feel guilty about marking it off on your bingo sheet at the end of the year, even if you still did a lot of work towards the goal. So, usually, I recommend setting realistic goals that get you going. Stuff like "run a 5k" or "run 3 different running trails" or you know... whatever is reasonable for you and has a tangible beginning & end. If you start working towards something fun or rewarding, you will still be doing the running you set out to do. Going for a daily run is good and all, but it's a slog if you don't know what you're working towards or if you don't allow yourself to rest on days that you really need rest.

My resolutions this year include things like getting a piercing, reading 50 academic papers, visiting all the libraries in my city, learning to place all the countries on a world map from memory, learning 3 new recipes, go somewhere new, complete 1 sewing project... Stuff that will take time and energy, but which will improve my life in ways I want to see it improve. If I don't set some goals -- even fun ones like going to a new museum -- I will just forget to do anything exciting or new & get lost in the depressing Grind of Life. And if you're lost in the depressing Grind of Life, remember to get outside and so anything at all that sounds appealing or productive or fun. It really helps to connect with the good things in life; makes you stronger and more stable in the long run.

I'm coming out as a new year's enjoyer. "Oh you will never stick to these goals" "nothing is really different between one day and the next" "why celebrate the bad years" because I want to!!! Because I love endings and beginnings and making lists!! I love the concept of starting the year by partying I love the drama of kissing someone at midnight I love the one time of the year when it is cold I love starting a new calendar and I love cheering for no reason

[holycatsandrabbits]

How to Write Romantic Pining

When writing romance, pining is everything. Readers want to see how desperately a character wants the romance, and how fervently they believe it’s never going to happen. That way, when it does happen, the rush of happy emotions takes the reader right along with it.

Writing pining is all about playing with your character’s emotions, which romance writers probably enjoy far too much. Let’s start with the happy part:

Your character is in love.

And probably lust as well. In any case, they believe their crush is the most wonderful, beautiful, amazing person in the entire world. Your character imagines what it would be like to spend a day with their crush, a dance, a night, a lifetime. Your character wants to be their crush’s special someone, the person they come to when they need help, whose comforting embrace they seek. The person who’s allowed to touch and kiss and openly love them. 

Now it may be the case that your character is already some of these things to their crush: a best friend, a confidant who knows what makes them laugh, a person who’s seen what their smile looks like under every kind of light. It might even be the case that your character and their crush are already lovers. But it’s just not enough for your character: they are in love, and they want it all: to be able to tell their crush how much they love them, to have a relationship that lasts the rest of their lives.

So now here comes the heartbreak:

Your character thinks it’s unrequited.

Your character must believe there is no path to a happy ending. Maybe their crush has a romantic partner already, or has rejected romantic overtures from your character before. Maybe the crush doesn’t seem to be into people of your character’s gender identity. Maybe the crush has sworn off romance or just seems completely satisfied being friends. Or your character believes they’re not pretty/smart/cool enough for their crush to ever think of them romantically.

This part is entirely emotional. It doesn’t matter what the outside circumstances of the relationship are. What’s important is your character believes that their crush is not in love with them now, and will never be.

But let’s talk about those outside circumstances a little:

Also, it’s impossible.

It’s a great idea to put additional barriers between your character and their crush, so the reader (who knows it’s requited), still thinks it really is unworkable. Maybe one of them is betrothed to someone else. Maybe the romance would need to cross a boundary: warring families, a commoner in love with a royal, or one of them’s a werewolf. It doesn’t have to be literally forbidden: maybe one is very outgoing and the other hates parties, or one is quite wealthy and connected and the other poor, or there’s an age difference (between adults). The point is, even if they are in love, your character and their crush will have to work to get past whatever sticking point you wrote for them.

But get past it, they will, of course, because this is romance, and your readers are looking for the payoff. The hopeless pining that abruptly resolves into joy when the characters realize their love is requited. And the more desperate you make your character, the bigger the rush when it finally happens.

Thanks for reading! To spice up your pining, check out How to Write Sexual Tension. And find more on how to set up that big romantic payoff in POV Switching in Romance.

This article was first published on my writing blog

DannyeChase.com ~ AO3 ~ Linktree ~ Weird Wednesday writing prompts blog ~ Resources for Writers

[naanima]

Wrote this in an hour. So a bit rough, unedited, and will be posted to Ao3 sometime in the next two days or so. Hopefully a bit more detailed and edited... Maybe. LOLs.

Maxiel, soulmates. ~1k words

Phase Sensitive Imprint

Daniel woke up to the left side of his torso burning, like nails digging into his skin, pulling and pushing, gouging itself into him. It left him curled up into himself, unable to scream because the pain had left him breathless, gasping for air like a fish on land. He couldn't think, he couldn't move, the only thing he could do was wait it out.

It could have been seconds, it could have been hours, when it finally stopped, he was a slab of tenderised meat. His muscles were in pain, pushed to the point of snapping. His joints ached, swollen and tender. He could feel tears and snot down his face. The night light hurt his eyes, the sound of the aircon felt like the sound of an airplane flying over his house. He was an exposed nerve.

He laid there in a curled up foetal position on his sweat soaked bed for a very long time. He didn't want to move, he didn't want to look at where the pain had been. He knew what it was. Everyone on earth knew what it was. It was your soul mark appearing.

Millions upon millions of words, art, music, and wars throughout human history has been dedicated to the subject of the appearance of soul marks. It was rare, scientists thought it was only about four point one percent of the population that ended up with a soul mark. It could happen at any time to anyone. It could appear on a newborn, it could appear on two people who had known each other for decades, it could happen to two complete strangers from two different parts of the world. There was no rhyme and reason, just that when your soul mark appeared, your whole being was suddenly changed for one directive - to find your soulmate.

For the longest time soul marks were considered to be evil, to be tragic, to be something to be hidden. It changed people, and the benefits were too many. And then a shift, and suddenly it was the most romantic thing to ever happen to someone. Now there were government mandated websites for people to find their soulmate. Daniel supposed he was lucky that he lived in an era that wasn't going to burn him at the stake just because he got a soul mark.

It could appear on any part of a body, in any size, shape and colour. Daniel has seen pictures of a solar system in rainbow colour across someone's arms, patterns of geometric shapes on someone's lips, too many animals to count, an endless supply of images that seemed limitless. Daniel was just glad it didn't fucking pop up on his face.

From the spread of pain, Daniel was fairly sure the size of his soul mark was fucking huge. There didn't appear to be a true scientific correlation between the size, colour and shape of your soul mark and how much your soulmate loved you, just that the soul mark represented your soul mate somehow. But there was some anecdotal evidence of large soul marks being related to greatness or some shit. Well, his soul mate was gonna go be fucking disappointed because Daniel was a fucking washed up cunt without a job. So maybe something small like a fucking mosquito.

And fuck, Daniel could already feel the pull of his soulmate, the urge to crawl out of his bed and just start walking in the direction his soul mate was at. It was under his skin, in his bones, his brain was screaming at him to fucking move.

Fuck, no wonder people used to get fucking killed, thought to be possessed by the devil when their soul mark appeared. Daniel was bone tired, in pain, fucking sentive to every physical sensation, and yet he wanted to strap himself into a F1 car and drive it into a fucking wall at 300km per hour. He grappled through the sheets till he found his phone. The advice by health professionals was to take some painkillers, drink some calming tea, and then take some clear photos of your soul mark to upload them onto the soulmate registry. Daniel was too fucking tired to get to the medicine cabinet in his bathroom, he just needed to take the fucking photos, upload them and then maybe knock himself out by hammering his head against the fucking wall.

When he finally got his phone he saw countless missed calls and messages, and just what the fuck.

The top messages were from Michelle and Blake.

Best Sister: Did you see the clip? It is everywhere. Shit. Looked like he was in a tonne of pain. Fuck, to get your soul mark like that in public too.

Blake BFF: Don't panic. He seems ok. But fuck Kelly and P looked freaked out.

And he didn't need to read more, didn't need to dig out the video of what happened. He just knew.

He took a long shuddery breath, dropped his phone, and slowly untangled the sheets from his body. When he was finally free from the sheets, he was on his back and looking up at his ceiling. He felt insane, he didn't know if he wanted it to be what he thought it was or if it was a mark completely different from what he imagined.

“Come on, Daniel. Don't be a fucking useless cunt. Fucking look,” he muttered to himself.

And yeah, fuck it. Daniel sat up and looked down to the left side of his torso. It was beautiful. It was gold and large, covering a third of his chest. It started from his shoulder all the way down his hip. And Daniel was crushed with a sense of relief and calm. He kept staring at it till his phone buzzed at him. He blinked and automatically picked up his phone and looked down. It was a message from Max.

There were no words, just a picture.

Butterflies in a multitude of colours surrounded by a field of sunflowers curved around Max’s right shoulder all the way down his right chest, his side and to his hips.

And Daniel started laughing. Tears rolled down his face, and he had to do something, and had to reach for Max. It took him three attempts to find Max’s number and hit call. Max picked up straight away.

“Daniel,” Max whispered, voice soft and so fucking in love. And Daniel wanted to reach through his phone and touch Max, touch his mark on Max.

“Max, Maxy, Maximus, Max, your lion is imprinted into my body.”

[vifilms]

i’m sick as fuck. ennalove, you’ve really outdone yourself with this one. the master of imagery, this solidified it. mel may have been the painter but you have illustrated this story so vividly with your strong affirmations of grace and love. the tone for this story beat the same with each word. all of it cohesive, every sentence tied to the next. truly, there’s never a time where i don’t enjoy your work.

seeing sevika painted in such a wonderful light, a soft light with comforting hues but you can still feel the rawness of everything and everyone she’s most. even if it is for the greater good and for the people of zaun, her home has changed — her life has changed. to show that struggle in the beginning, the push and pull of the tide, there’s the intertwine of canon into something even deeper. from an emotional standpoint, you seriously always knock sevika out of the park. i can hear her thoughts, i feel what she feels, her pain is as close to my heart as it is to hers. it’s intimate. i don’t think people understand how hard it is to execute that in writing. a numbing emotion can often feel thoughtless but there’s full intentionality in this and it’s felt in every word. the entire time i was reading this i just craved for more. the worlds you create in your work are stellar, sevika’s feelings don’t get lost in the shuffle and you can quite literally feel everything about them.

she’s wounded, hard but soft around the edges, she’s lost so much, and she’s ridiculed for things out of her control. the way your write sevika feels real and tangible. a woman who no longer has a home but has her heart beat for zaun and the cause she believes in even if she’s surrounded by people who don’t understand it. and they might never, and there’s heartbreaking tangibility in that feeling. it’s something all of us feel consistently. in some aspect, we can’t control circumstances out of our grip, all we can do is take our best foot forward.

…..but melvika.

the imagery and analogies between the stars and what they mean to each other? fucking amazing. how sevika says the stars is the only think she likes but then saying mel is the first person who is kind to her, the first person who appreciates her and the knowledge she has to offer. mel is sevika’s star and vice versa. maybe it’s just me but i’m just a sucker for people from completely different lives and coming together and all of it just works. it shouldn’t, it couldn’t, but somehow it does.

“yeah and there are so many of them, and it’s like every time you see them you’re seeing a completely different sky. and they’re cool because they only come out at night when they think nobody can see them, it’s like they’re shy. but i always see them because i’m always awake with them.” she rambles.

oh yes. this shit is so fucking good. the foreshadowing. always being present with one you love, and also — i always see them because i’m always with them — there’s so much weight in this line. there’s a thousand different ways it can be interpreted. personally it’s someone like sevika, being reserved, shy, or even cautious, not wanting to be seen or perceived because it’s never ended out well for yourself but when someone does for the first time, it’s the most beautiful thing to experience. what’s that saying? to be seen is to be loved. that’s what this little section screams to me. when someone loves you for the first time, not for a version of yourself you think you are or someone wants you to be, but they love you for you. it’s humbling, it aches, it’s more than overwhelming, but there’s nothing else like it in the world.

there’s true submission in love, and that’s where trust and partnership can blossom and grow, and that’s exactly how this fic made me feel. like there’s a blossom of hope on the other side of the tunnel. the people we love waiting on the other side for us. ready to restore a faith in humanity that we’ve lost.

always exquisite, enna. thank you for always challenging the way i write, making me see the craft in a different lense. it’s so hauntingly beautiful. as if a surgeon can suture a cracked heart back together just because they will it so. ennabear, your talent is always a pleasure to witness. i love your work so much. never stop, ever.

♡

✴︎ —PAINT THE AGES A HUNDRED SHADES OF GOLD ⊹₊⟡⋆

I DON’T WANNA TALK ABOUT LOVE ANYMORE ‘CAUSE IT’S GETTING TOO MUCH FOR ME …

cw: councilor!sevika x painter!mel, sevika is a lil sad and mean but she gets over it, sevika is also kind of a loser who can’t stop talking when she gets drunk, jinx and isha mentions because i’m evil and we know this, mel paints sevika nude, body worship, lots of comfort, oral sex, 18+

word count: 7.3k

it’s been months since sevika’s big move, and she fucking hates it to say the least.

all of these pilties are stuck up, even more than she remembers. which is a lot. she’s exhausted, she questions why she’s even a part of the council if all they do is ignore her. showing up every day and listening to them talk about her home and her people the way they do makes her sick.

they draft plans to raid the markets, shutting down anyone who isn’t licensed to be selling meat or rice or bread, but they refuse to let anyone get a license to sell those things. of course, she’s glad that she gets to eat three meals a day now, but with every bite she takes, she’s reminded of her home, and how starving they must be over there.

no matter how much she fights back, offers up a real plan that could make peace between the rivaling nations, they all just snicker and point fingers at her like she’s some sort of circus act.

and don’t ask her about how much she likes being called councilor sevika, because she doesn’t like it at all. she’s not a councilor, and maybe that’s a good thing, because it’s the last thing she’d ever wanna be.

still, she keeps her emotions under control. this is a huge opportunity to help get zaun on it’s feet and cut ties with piltover officially, she won’t spoil it by making a scene and giving up. no matter what, she’s gonna make an effort, even if it means being locked in a room with a group of rich pigs who’ve never felt that growing pit of hunger in their stomachs that make them so dizzy that they keel over on the streets.

that they die on the streets.

so yeah, it’s not easy, not even a little bit.

most of her nights are spent alone in her room. it’s nice, “small” compared to the rooms everyone else occupies, but still bigger than any house she’s ever seen in the undercity. it has large windows that let every bit of light in, but it’s still eerily dark at night compared to zaun.

in zaun, there are neon lights and buzzing street lamps that glow and flicker at every hour, so when it gets dark, the colorful lights bounce off of every inch of the city. you can see them in the reflections of the puddles, bright streaks of light flying up into the night from behind buildings and stretching until they’re out of sight.

here, in piltover, they have different kinds of lights. tiny, white holes in the sky called stars that shine when it gets dark. they have spotlights and statues and lanterns, but it gets lonely at night. everyone is at home, distancing from their friends and their jobs, getting sleep and resting up for whatever the next day will bring.

there isn’t really any rest in zaun, just a small wink of sleep whenever you catch it, and you’re up again. everyone’s grouchy and hungry and cold, but it makes for good shimmer sales, and the bar is a great place to find refuge when you need a break from it all.

so sevika sleeps with all of her lights on. an attempt to remind her of home— although her home doesn’t have a queen sized bed, fluffy pillows and soft blankets, lamps, alarm clocks, fireplaces, clean water on their nightstands, and stars that shine through their windows.

the stars might be her favorite part about piltover. probably the only good thing about piltover. she doesn’t really know what they are or what they do, but they’re nice to look at late at night when she can’t manage to sleep.

every time she finds herself staring up at them, she sends a prayer or two up to janna. always one for the people, a prayer that even though they pretend to hate each other, and there sure are a few goons who are ready to slit her throat for never paying them back, she hopes they’re okay.

she hopes that ran and theiram have got the bar under control, that vi and ekko manage to keep the chaos limited, and most of all, that jinx and isha are doing alright.

ever since silco died, her whole world was flipped upside down and shaken vigorously. who knew that someday she’d be missing jinx? but she does. she cries at night for the blue haired girl, praying for her safety and her happiness, hoping that she’s managed to keep some of her creativity after everything that went down.

and of course for the more tolerable blue haired kid, isha.

she prays that isha is still attached at the hip to jinx, that her fluffy hair gets dyed that awful bright blue color as often as she wants it to, that she’s found some way to communicate with the world while her voice is at rest.

she’s got no clue as to where they could be. one second, she’s wishing jinx would leave her alone. that she’d pack up her inventions and make a home for them far away from sevika’s life. the next second, they’re gone. no warning, no heads up whatsoever, just completely taken from her life.

but if she wishes to find any wisp of happiness, she’s gonna have to push these thoughts to the back of her mind, only letting them front when she’s alone and awake and accompanied by the stars. they’re the only things who understand her.

——

if you listen closely, you might be able to hear the sound of mel’s thoughts buzzing around in her mind.

the past few months have given her some intense whiplash, but things are finally starting to straighten out. her life isn’t exactly normal, but she’s growing used to her… new self.

she spends most of her time perched at her easel, painting the canvas in beautiful colors that fall over various people or places. it’s therapeutic for her, whatever image or question or anger she has lingering in her head, she can work it out with the paints. when she’s done, she lines them up in front of her.

it helps her see things more clearly, like a thought that can’t float away, frozen in time for her to analyze further. some of them are just plain colors. gold, with white, yellow, and bronze streaks, an attempt to recreate the swirls that are painted on her own body.

sometimes she paints her mother, her eyebrows lowered in a scowl and her silvery gray hair crowning her head. jayce and viktor occasionally make an appearance, both of their faces lost in thought as they stare at various equations and formulas that she can’t quite make out.

sometimes she just sees miscellaneous things, quick visions that she needs to bring to life. countless canvases are covered in black, with that dark red fog reaching into it like vines. there’s also the hextech that makes the occasional appearance, but she can’t quite get that bright, rich blue color right.

a few times before, she’s attempted portraits, but she doesn’t prefer them. lest has been one of her closest friends during all of this, she can sit and pose for hours while mel works away at her figure on the canvas. they’ve also tried painting together, but mel prefers her alone time.

she’s tried recreating the pictures from her memory, but it never comes out as well. she covers the canvas in thick paint, a bronze, brown, and white, making up jayce’s features. but she always clouds his face with shiny white webs, and those glistening, rainbow stars. the ones that stole him away.

while she sits, her body stays stagnant, eyes racing around the blank canvas. she mixes the colors in her head before she even opens the tubes, her eyes proportion it all for her, so she rarely makes sketches anymore.

recently, she’s been more interested in staying in and shutting out the world. the occasional knock rings out against her door, but she can’t be bothered to investigate. she doesn’t wanna give her opinions anymore, doesn’t wanna lead all of topside to peace and gas the streets of the undercity. really, she never signed up for that. sure, she’s ambessa’s daughter, but she doesn’t care to be a leader anymore. not when all it does is get people hurt and killed.

but apparently it’s urgent this time, because the knocking persists.

“um, mel?” a timid voice asks. “i hate to bother you, but the council requires yo—”

she flings the door open, clad in her white robe and slippers. her hood hangs halfway over her head as she glares at the man, but he insists on escorting her to the council meeting. her feet gently pad against the floor as she walks through the long halls, already dreading having to play referee for a group of adults who should know better.

but ambessa is gone now, and these people need someone to give them any sort of direction.

the dome shaped room welcomes her, and although she dreads being there, the sun shining through the stained glass is gorgeous. she spies a few familiar faces sitting in their respective seats, and notices some new ones who were added after the war.

“but they need the money!” one councilor booms, one of the newer ones who mel doesn’t quite recognize yet. “you can’t just cut their funds and raise the tax prices, they—”

“councilor sevika, please.” someone says, talking over her voice. “what possibly could they need more money for? our city needs to be rebuilt, and it’s them who’s caused all of this destruction.”

mel observes quietly, noticing the tears that fill sevika’s eyes. she makes an assumption that they’re either out of sadness, anger, or exhaustion, but she can’t quite tell. one thing she does know, though, is that it isn’t fair.

it’s not fair to just drag a zaunite up to topside and force her to be the only one representing her nation. especially when she has to be locked in a room full of people who hate her, who think she’s nothing more than just undercity trash to mock and make fun of.

mel’s surprised that sevika has held her ground for this long. if that were her, she’d want to pack up and leave within a day, especially when she notices the snorts and sideways glances that she gets every time she opens her mouth.

“have you even been down there?” sevika asks. “have you seen the bodies lying on the streets? have you heard the sobs of the starving children?”

they all look at her, unable to imagine what hunger even is, much less an entire nation overcome by it. shoola offers a sympathetic frown, but it’s not enough for sevika. she’s exhausted, and the thought of seeing her home even more impoverished is killing her. worst of all, word on the street is that zaunites are beginning to call her a traitor.

she wishes that they could see how hard she’s working, how much she’s fighting for them behind the scenes. but she can’t exactly blame them, it must be hard to watch every leader they’ve ever had either fail at leading them to sovereignty or turn their backs on the people. must be worse to watch someone who they thought was on their side disappear into the council and watch as things just keep getting worse and worse down there.

and this makes sevika feel horrible.

it’s hard for her not to blame herself for this, especially because that’s what she’s used to. her job for years was to be silco’s right hand, so it was constantly her fault if something went wrong. that’s just how things are. if things don’t go her way, it must be her fault for not working harder to overcome it.

“i agree.” mel says plainly. “councilor sevika has firsthand knowledge of what it’s like for them, why shouldn’t we trust her?”

sevika is taken aback at this. she’s never seen someone so… rich looking… be this understanding toward her. but although it’s the bare minimum, she appreciates it. she’ll take whatever form of kindness she can get right now.

the other councilors stare at mel like she’s just grown three heads. obviously, they’ve never been told no a day in their life. sevika is glad that she gets to be present for the first time. some of them sputter and growl, some of them roll their eyes, but sevika just sinks back into her chair and decides to let them argue it out.

“i agree too.” councilor shoola says. “it’s only fair… unless, any of you would like to go down there and experience it for yourselves? then you could tell us all about their excess of funds.”

sevika sighs in relief, thanking janna or the universe or whatever god decided to help her out. she can’t exactly smile, at least not yet, but she manages a tiny grin, and decides that maybe she shouldn’t feel too bad about herself just yet.

mel is glad that sevika and shoola have at least a little bit of brains, but she’s starting to rethink having all of the others on the council. maybe they need to fire some, or at least add some more zaunites to level the playing field. although, she now knows that sevika can put up one hell of a fight, so maybe she doesn’t need it.

but the clock strikes two in the afternoon, and the councilors file out to get on with their day until they meet again tomorrow. sevika hangs back, waiting for everyone to leave before she returns to her office. but mel hangs back too, determined to talk to sevika more, to get to know her.

sevika pulls her cape over her shoulders, completely covering her figure before she exits the room. mel perks up and shoots her a questioning look.

“yes?” sevika asks.

“you’re brave.” mel says.

“no i’m not. d’you think it’s brave of me to leave my people starving and helpless down there while i have a real home and three meals a day?”

mel just stares blankly at her. that isn’t what she meant at all, but at the same time, she’s completely right. as much as she still believes that sevika is brave for putting up with the councilors, she should be calling everyone else brave, everyone in zaun who goes days without food. sevika is the luckiest of them all.

“that’s not what i meant.” mel explains. “i meant that you’re better than them because you stand your ground instead of just getting everything you want. you work hard for what you earn.”

sevika shrugs. “i guess you could say that.”

“do you miss it down there?”

“what do you think?” sevika grunts.

“i’d bet that you do, you just try not to show it in front of anyone.”

“yes, because showing weakness gets you killed.”

“not up here, it doesn’t. you should open up a little, it might be good for you.” mel suggests.

“i’ll pass.”

“i could help you.”

“i don’t need—”

“let me help you.” mel says, reaching out to grab sevika’s hand.

“help me how?” sevika asks.

“open up to me. tell me about your life. friends, family, past, anything.”

“okay… maybe.”

“okay, good.”

——

sevika has never been great at opening up to anyone, but mel is… understanding. as much as she hates to talk about her struggles to other people, mel is probably the best possible person to talk to. mel marched herself down sevika’s hall to her door, banging on it until sevika sleepily presented herself. she marched sevika down the hall and through the building until they reached her own suite, and she fed sevika more and more wine until she started to talk to her.

it started with just a confession. sevika was wine drunk and admitted that yes, she did miss her home, and that she hated topside. and then mel pressed for more, made her tell her specifically who she missed and what she missed about them.

the list of people who she missed was never ending. at the top— jinx and isha. in all honesty, mel is shocked to learn that sevika had anyone that she really considered family, much less a daughter or a niece. but sevika tells her all about them, how isha would beg to paint her nails or dye her hair, and how jinx finally had a sister who she could play with, instead of just being too young to do anything.

but when mel asks where they’ve gone, sevika freezes. she doesn’t know, and it’s not something she prefers to think about. dead is something she’d heavily considered, but that ending makes her too sad. as long as she doesn’t know that they’re dead, they’re not. at least not in her world.

she tells mel that she hopes they’re somewhere safe, somewhere that they can have fun together. like floating on a cloud, or living in outer space with the stars. maybe they are with the stars, and that’s why she loves them so much.

“you like the stars?” mel asks.

“that’s the only thing actually worth liking about this place, i think…” sevika slurs drunkenly.

“hmm, i guess they are pretty, aren’t they.” mel ponders.

“yeah and there are so many of them, and it’s like every time you see them you’re seeing a completely different sky. and they’re cool because they only come out at night when they think nobody can see them, it’s like they’re shy. but i always see them because i’m always awake with them.” she rambles.

mel can’t help but giggle. again, everything she said is exactly right, but she’s never seen it that way. sevika offers her a fresh new perspective, one that makes her ponder how much she knows about the world.

“sorry…” sevika whispers, suddenly aware that she’s drunkenly blabbering and probably making a fool of herself. she tries to blink herself sober but it doesn’t work.

“no worries. i like them too.” mel soothes.

“i think i should go.”

“already?” mel asks.

“it’s gett’n late. i have places to be tomorrow…” sevika sighs. mel stands and walks her to the door, grabbing on gently to her human arm in an attempt to stabilize the woman. she offers a sweet smile to sevika as she leaves, even takes her hand in her own for a second and squeezes it tightly, but sevika just stares at the floor.

“mel?” she asks finally, although in a timid voice.

“yes?”

“thanks for sticking up for me. i don’t know what those pigs would get up to without people like me and you.”

mel’s heart warms at this. sevika is so drunk that she’s starting to get sappy and sweet, and while it’s adorable, it’s clear that she needs to get home. but she’s glad that her effort isn’t going unnoticed, and she’s starting to really like sevika.

“of course.” she smiles again. “get some sleep for me, okay? don’t spend too much time with the stars.”

sevika curses herself for the warm feeling that wraps herself all around her, she hates that she’s being vulnerable and making friends. she just blames the feeling on the alcohol, but she knows that it’s not. because that light, warm feeling clings itself to her every time she sees mel.

it happens again when they coincidentally cross paths, mel on her way outside for some fresh air and sevika on her way to her room to sign papers until her fingers bleed. but she realizes for the first time that mel is so beautiful. she hasn’t spotted sevika yet, but the sunlight glowing in from the windows catches her golden streaked skin perfectly, and she’s shining. it’s like she’s a real life star, and sevika can’t peel her eyes away.

“oh, hi sevika.” mel grins.

“um… hi.” she responds, her heart suddenly beating faster than usual. “where are you going?”

“just outside. been cramped up inside all day and the smell of my paints are starting to give me a headache.”

“you paint?” sevika asks, although to anyone else the answer would be obvious.

“yeah, all the time. i’d love to show you someday.” she offers, already knowing that she’s gonna have to drag sevika by the arm and force her to visit.

“okay… yeah, that would be nice.” she says.

“what are you doing right now?” mel asks.

“i just have a lot of paperwork to fill out, letters to write, things to sign, you know how it is.”

“will you stop by later, then?”

“are you gonna make me?”

“probably. if you don’t show up by yourself.”

“alright, see you later then.”

——

sevika is dreading this outing. the more times she thinks about going back over to mel’s, the more anxious she gets. every time she’s been over there the past month, she’s ended up either drunk or blabbering on about stuff that doesn’t matter. or worse— drunk and blabbering. she always finds some way to make a fool of herself, and she doesn’t know how to stop. she just wishes it wasn’t so easy to open up to her, wishes that mel wasn’t so damn likable.

mel already knows she’s gonna have to drag sevika over to come look at her paintings. she always does. no matter how many times she tells the woman to come on her own terms, she finds herself stomping down to sevika’s door and forcing her to hang out. it’s cute, in mel’s mind, it’s like a date. so that’s what she finds herself doing tonight. cleaning up her suite a little, spinning one of her jazz records, and marching down to collect sevika.

she’s arranged her paintings in no particular order, but the array is beautiful. some are framed, some are smaller than others, some of them aren’t even finished. sevika feels so moved by this. she’s never seen anything so beautiful. not anything in real life, not mel herself, not even the stars are as beautiful as her paintings.

mel sits her down on the loveseat, pouring two glasses of wine and sitting down next to sevika, but sevika begs her to talk about her paintings. she’s dying to know how anyone could make anything look more beautiful than the stars. mel blushes at that compliment— it’s a lot coming from sevika for multiple reasons— but she decides that now it’s her turn to open up.

they sit an chat for hours, and before long, sevika feels as if she knows mel like the back of her hand. she now knows about jayce and viktor and what happened to them, about ambessa, her mother, the noxians, and the rest of her family. sevika’s oddly surprised. of course, she’s aware that mel is probably the strongest woman she knows, but she never would’ve guessed that she’s been through that much.

mel cries a bit, and sevika cries too, and they laugh about their emotions like old friends. for once in her life, sevika feels like maybe not everything sucks, and that maybe it’s okay to let herself fall for someone. she just hopes that mel feels the same way.

“sevika?” mel asks, still catching her breath after a fit of giggles.

“yeah?” she smiles.

“will you dance with me?”

“i don’t dance.” sevika says, laughing at the image of her dancing with someone. how silly.

“aww, come on! it’s just us and some jazz! you’ll be fine.” she reasons. “please?”

sevika rolls her eyes at mel’s outstretched hand, but she’s very tipsy and in a good mood, so how could she say no to the beautiful woman standing in front of her?

mel yanks her up by her arm, and sevika wastes no time following after her to the middle of the room where the big sky lights let the stars shine in. sevika scowls and tenses up a bit, but mel wraps her arms around sevika’s waist so gently, guiding sevika’s arm to press against her back. mel sways them back and forth a bit, and sevika soon loosens up and stares down at mel with a smile that puts all of the stars to shame.

“do you ever miss your arm?” mel asks.

“yeah, sometimes. i miss the one jinx made for me, i wish i didn’t take it for granted.” she responds, her mood quickly turning sad against her will.

“i could have one made for you.” mel offers.

sevika shakes her head and flattens her lips into a straight line. “they won’t let me have one on the council.”

it’s mel’s turn to roll her eyes now. “no, i’ll make you one that they’ll accept. they always listen to me, you know.” she grins.

“i guess that would be alright, as long as it’s not much of a hassle.”

“for you? nothing’s a hassle. don’t be silly.”

sevika’s eyebrows pull together in the middle and she pouts, tears quickly filling her eyes. nobody’s ever been this nice to her before. offering her a new limb, protection from the ruthless comments from the council, good wine, and a dance underneath the stars. she can’t help but cry, but she’s not afraid to anymore. with mel, she feels safe enough to be this vulnerable.

mel notices her sad expression, and she silently prays that she didn’t accidentally offend sevika, it’s the last thing she’d ever wanna do. “oh, what’s wrong? did i—”

sevika cuts her off with a kiss. she doesn’t wanna hear any apologies from mel, not after she’s been a literal angel to sevika this past week. mel’s lips are warm and welcoming, they taste sweet, like if gold was a flavor. she reaches her hands up and cradles the back of mel’s head, deepening the kiss.

mel is completely taken aback by this. she didn’t know that sevika had feelings for her. actually, she thought that sevika was sick of her. but she kisses sevika back, her lips are big and pouty and oh so soft. she also gets to feel sevika’s piercing up close, and the cold metal drags against the bottom of her lips ever so slightly. it’s a stark contrast, but a comforting one at that.

one thing leads to another, and they’re quickly back on the loveseat, lapping at each others tongues and giggling like kids and holding hands. sevika’s had tons of sex before, sure, but nothing comes close to this. she feels so special, so cared for, that she notices this strange, giddy feeling bubbling up in her chest.

little does she know, that feeling is called love.

she pins mel down to the seat, both of them breathless and high on this mysterious feeling— although it definitely has something to do with the liquor— and sevika almost cries again when mel spreads her legs beneath her white gown. the warm lamplight mixed with the starlight causes her to glow again, like she’s on fire, so sevika can’t help but kiss all over the gold patterns that paint her skin.

mel erupts into another fit of giggles, holding sevika’s shocked face in her hands. sevika tenses up slightly at her touch, but takes a deep breath and swallows all of her anxiety.

“can i?” sevika asks.

mel smiles and nods. “of course. you can do whatever you want to me.”

sevika shudders and reaches up mel’s dress, caressing her stomach and hips. mel is soft and malleable under her touch, and she’s golden. she reaches forward to tug her dress above her hips. sevika doesn’t think she’s ever seen such a beautiful sight, and mel absolutely adores sevika’s awestruck face.

the same golden markings that paint her face also trail down her abdomen, all the way to her ankles. there are thick streaks of gold that mirror each other on each side of her torso, twisting themselves into swirls and shapes. she also has small golden freckles littering her body, identical to the ones on her face. they look like stars.

best of all, as if sevika wasn’t already turned on enough, she has small, golden hairs that trail down from just beneath her belly button, only stopping when they crown her dripping hole. this woman is made of pure magic, and if sevika doesn’t get her mouth on her within the next millisecond, she thinks she might faint.

mel grabs sevika’s hand when she notices her hesitation, and this makes her snap back into the moment and start eating mel out. she starts slow, just some teasing, soft licks to her clit that make her shiver. mel moans so sweetly and beautifully and sevika feels like she’s floating.

sevika grips mel’s hand harder and harder as she keeps eating her out, and it’s times like these that she wishes she has two hands. one to hold mel’s with, and one to feel inside of her, pumping her full of her thick fingers. mel arches her back and thrusts up into sevika’s face, and they both nearly cum on the spot.

she pulls back for a second, a string of white slick connecting itself to sevika’s lips before dripping down her chin.

“sev, you’re doing so good, baby.” mel praises. “don’t stop, i’m so close.”

sevika speeds up her movements, determined to make mel cum. her big, silver eyes squeeze shut as her mouth works it’s magic, sucking on her clit and running her pointed tongue between mel’s folds to collect her slick.

but she doesn’t cum until sevika wraps her lips around her clit again, her piercing colliding with mel’s throbbing clit as she tips over the edge. a low whine is pulled from her throat, and sevika pulls back to admire the woman above her. mel yanks sevika up by her shirt, thanking her with a deep kiss. some of sevika’s lipstick is smudged, so mel wipes it off with her thumbs, as well as the wet slick that’s smeared all over her face.

sevika is suddenly very aware that she doesn’t need shimmer anymore, because she feels like mel’s sweet nectar is enough to get her high.

“i’m gonna need that new arm as soon as you can get it.” sevika says with her lips smashed against mel’s. “need to show you what else i can do.”

——

it’s been three weeks since then, and sevika’s been coming over every night. she still has lots of work to do, but mel helps her with all of it. they sort through tall stacks of paperwork, taking turns sitting on the others lap and pouring each other more wine. sometimes they get distracted with sex, but they try their hardest to stay focused. occasionally mel will bring out her paints and work on something new, forcing sevika to stay focused while she’s at work.

they also spend their mornings together. if they don’t wake up in the other’s arms, they’ll sleepily march down to their door and bang on it until they reunite and hold each other again.

but this morning, sevika wakes up in mel’s bed alone. she reaches out for the woman with her arm, but that side of the bed is just cold and empty. sitting up, she glances around the room until she spies mel in her silky white cloak painting on the balcony.

“mel?” she asks groggily. “why’re you up so early?”

“just had to finish something, love.” she responds, smiling at her girlfriend’s half awake state. “you can go back to sleep if you’d like.”

“can i at least see what you’re working on?”

“not yet.” she smiles. “it’s a surprise.”

sevika groans and turns around to go back inside, but mel catches her arm and yanks her back for a kiss. sevika kisses over each of mel’s golden freckles, and then her lips, then her nose, her forehead, chin, and then lips again, before returning inside. mel giggles and tries to swat sevika’s back before she gets away, but she’s too slow and the effort is wasted.

back inside, sevika grabs onto mel’s pillow and stuffs her face into it, bringing a familiar comfort that lulls her back to sleep. she’s shaken awake a few hours later, though. it’s mel, very gently rattling sevika’s shoulder while caressing her hair. “sevika, babe, wake up.” she whispers.

“mmmmh?”

“i have a present for you.”

“hmmmm?”

“wake up so you can open it.”

“ughhhhh.”

“oh, please. don’t be so pouty. i want you to see it! quickly, quickly!” she urges, yanking sevika back to the balcony. the sun is slightly higher in the sky now, some of the orange in the sky is still fading away but the sky is painted in a light yellow color, it matches mel a little bit.

she hands her a giant white box with mel’s name on it, a small golden bow sitting directly on the top. “what is this?” sevika asks.

“open it and see!” mel smiles.

so she does. she flips the lock on the box and pulls it open, a smooth, golden arm staring back at her.

“what is this?” sevika asks again, this time in disbelief. she couldn’t tell how serious mel was about acquiring a new arm for her, so she didn’t think she’d be receiving a new one this quickly, or one this pretty.

it’s a lot more modern compared to her other two arms that she’s had in the past. it has a matte gold casing all around it, with shimmery gold patterns that resemble mel’s carved into it. it has all five fingers, but they’re not as pointy, more resembling her human fingers than her past arms. sevika is overcome with emotions, and she turns around to pull mel in for a hug, hiding her tears on her shoulder.

“do you like it?” mel asks.

“i love it.”

“will you teach me how to put it on you?”

“of course.” sevika promises, and with that, mel tugs her inside and makes her sit and show her. it takes a bit of fumbling. sevika isn’t great at explaining things, but she also can’t do much with only one arm, so lots of trial and error occurs during the process. but eventually it’s all screwed in, and the first thing sevika does is pull mel in for a real hug.

mel never really realized how strong sevika is, and how crushing her hugs are. at least, not until now. she knows that sevika can hold her somewhat tightly, but one arm doesn’t do much. now that she as two arms though, mel is struggling to breathe with the way sevika is crushing her. or maybe it’s just because sevika wants to show her girlfriend some love. and she’s definitely not crying.

“i have one more thing.” mel says, although most of it gets muffled by sevika’s chest.

“what is it?” she asks.

“come outside and look.”

sevika follows her outside, grabbing onto mel’s elbow with her new hand.

“close your eyes.” mel says, so sevika squeezes her eyes shut and tries her hardest not to peek. mel dashes over to retrieve the painting on her canvas that’s now fully dry, and then she holds it to face sevika.

“okay, now open them.”

she opens her eyes to see mel holding one of her new paintings— the one she wasn’t allowed to see yet. but now she’s aware of why she wasn’t allowed to see it, because the painting is of her.

it’s sevika. hunched over at mel’s desk with her reading glasses on and a pen in her hand, a glass of wine half empty on the table next to her. the colors in the painting are very warm, likely resembling the warm lamps that decorate mel’s suite. and the most surprising thing— there’s a smile on sevika’s face.

it’s not something she’s ever seen on herself before. for one, she’s never been one to smile in general, it’s just not something she was ever used to doing. photographs are also very rare in zaun, so the only way she could’ve seen it on herself is by smiling in front of a mirror, which is even more rare.

sevika doesn’t even know how to feel. she should cry, because nobody has ever been this kind to her before, and she’s overwhelmed with emotions from the arm, the painting, and just being around mel.

she should also be happy. nobody has ever understood her as much as mel does, and she feels so honored to be seen in her artistic lense. she should be glad that she gets to live up here, where everything is safe and pretty and valuable. she’s also still half asleep, and can’t exactly tell if she’s dreaming or not.

“what do you think?” mel asks after a while.

“i don’t know what i did to deserve this.” sevika says honestly. “is there some kind of special occasion that i don’t know about? or are you just spoiling me.”

“well, mostly the latter,” mel laughs. “but it is our one month anniversary, if that counts for anything.”

“i didn’t get you anything.” sevika frowns, suddenly feeling way out of mel’s league, almost insecure.

“that’s alright.” mel smiles. “your presence is enough.”

sevika rolls her eyes and manages a smile too, yanking mel forward and giving her a sweet kiss. one month isn’t much, but it’s been the happiest month of sevika’s life, and things are starting to look up for her. for zaun, too.

“well,” mel starts, pulling away from sevika’s lips. “there is one small thing you could do for me.”

“and that is…?”

“model for me so i can paint you?” she asks with a happy shrug of her shoulders.

“now? but you just painted me.”

“yes, i’m aware.” she laughs. “but i haven’t painted your new arm yet, and that was from a few days ago but you just look so adorable today. please?”

sevika smiles too. how could she say no to mel when she asks so nicely? “alright, fine.” she agrees.

“good, and take all of your clothes off, too.”

sevika freezes. although mel has seen her naked hundreds of times, she suddenly feels shy.

“don’t worry, it’s just for us.” mel soothes. “lay on the bed and i’ll position you.”

so sevika is left no choice but to follow the orders she was given. she strips herself of her clothes— which is much easier now that she has two arms— and lays down on the bed, looking up at mel with her big, watery eyes. mel walks over and pushes her backward until she’s propped up with just one elbow.

“is this comfortable?” mel asks.

“uh… y-yeah.” sevika responds.

mel pries sevika’s legs open, positioning them apart so that she has a full view of sevika’s dripping cunt from her easel. sevika whimpers, her eyes widening and sparkling as she looks up at mel.

“don’t be shy.” mel teases. “it’s just me.”

“i know, sorry…” sevika says with a sigh, making a mental note to loosen up.

“are you ready for me to start? we’re probably gonna be here all day.”

“yeah. ready.” sevika responds.

“okay, let me know if you need a break.”

mel isn’t too fond of painting from models, but she can feel her opinion changing as she sculpts sevika with the paint. her legs are easy. long and thick, and she gets to mimic the way they’re pressed open.

her torso is next, which is one of her favorite things about sevika. her abs are hard and sturdy, but they get slightly softened out by the rolls of her stomach. then mel moves up to her tits, painting two perfectly pointed brown circles accented with thick, dark nipples.

her neck comes after, and then her arms, and finally her face. mel has memorized every little expression sevika has, so she has a lot to choose from, but she chooses the one that sevika is wearing right now. a goofy, lovestruck smile, adorned with a slight blush sparkling on her cheeks.

her eyes are also fun, they’re so big and sparkly and metallic, mel can’t help but paint stars in them. and of course, her nose, her tooth gap, her piercing, and her hair. they all come together to make up the most perfect face that mel has ever seen.

she moves on to the arms next, painting one with her thick muscles and her warm brown skin, and the other with a shiny gold. her shoulders are slightly slanted, and they have bite marks and hickeys carved into them, which makes mel immensely proud of herself.

and finally, sevika’s glistening cunt. she paints each fold tenderly, a small circle at the top covered slightly by a thin, fleshy hood. she paints the slick in between her thighs that just keeps collecting with her finest white and silver paints.

and of course, her bush, because she wouldn’t dare to forget it. she curls each stroke of her brush until it perfectly mirrors sevika’s thick, dark curls, and then she trails them all the way up her lower stomach.

she finishes the background next, but it’s not much. she doesn’t want anything to take away from sevika’s beauty. but she makes sure to add a few stars surrounding her of various sizes and shades of gold.

sevika has been surprisingly patient throughout the whole thing, mel predicted that she’d be begging for snacks only ten minutes in. but mel finishes quickly and she’s beaming with excitement as soon as she’s done.

“do you wanna see it?” she asks.

“you’re done already?” sevika replies.

“yeah. you’re an easy model.”

“okay, yeah, let me see.” sevika smiles.

mel lifts up the canvas and presents it to sevika, and it’s somehow even more beautiful than the other painting. mel captures her so beautifully, sevika is so honored to be viewed that way. for the first time in her life, she truly feels beautiful. and mel can tell that she feels that way too, through the tears that threaten to spill in her eyes.

and just as sevika is about to tackle mel to the bed too, she notices something in the bottom corner. in a shimmery gold writing, the words “my star. -mel m.” are painted. sevika looks up at mel with a questioning glance and asks, “what’s that?”

“it’s my signature. the title of the painting and my name.”

“‘my star’?” sevika reads off.

“yeah, because that’s what you are. you’re my star, sevika. you’re so beautiful and bright.”

and those words echo in sevika’s mind for the rest of time, especially when sevika pins mel down and rides her face into the pillow a few seconds later. she’s right. she is mel’s star, isn’t she.

[akookminsupporter]

Hi Rosie! You know what I've realized now that Chapter 2 is coming to an end? How fucking obsessed certain people are with Jikook, as individuals and most especially, as a duo.

I've seen the same groups of people, same accounts, tkkrs and jm/jk solos alike; it almost seems like they come from the same breed. I know we have a lot of hidden tkkrs all over, but man, can't keep Jikook out of their mouths.

I mean, if I was not interested in someone or something, you couldn't force me to talk about it or even watch or read related content. Why the hell would I waste my time??

But for some reason, these people kept yapping about Jikook and how they weren't close, spreading harmful rumours, etc, and for what? These two have served together. It doesn't change reality. I wonder if they'll realize that we know they're just trying to convince themselves and would rather continue living in delusion and lies.

24/7 365 days/yr. Their accounts are full of Jimin, Jimin, Jimin, Jungkook, Jungkook, Jungkook, and Jikook instead of their supposed stans or duos. I guess they don't have anything going on in real life. Imagine being this obsessed and affected by people who don't even know who they are and pathetically think they can alter reality, or even Jikook's bond in real life.

PS I do believe that the majority of tkkrs who "ship" them all rely on lies and manipulations, but even more so on tkk fanfiction, which they let bleed into real life, and now they can't distinguish it. I feel so icky and creeped out when I saw humanlouvre's, or wtv, drawings. Tkkrs/jjk solos and even jm solos are hardcore y/ns.

The vecinas and solos are like the K-poppies of the fandom. You know how K-poppies are obsessed with BTS? They can’t go five minutes without mentioning them, trying to discredit their achievements, downplaying their talent, and acting like the power BTS holds is just a fluke? They desperately wish their faves could be everything BTS is, yet deep down they know it’s impossible. It eats them alive that BTS is not just the best group the industry has ever seen but also one of the greatest musical acts in the world, full stop. They’ve got this weird, imaginary competition in their heads where it’s always BTS vs their faves, even though BTS is in a completely different league. K-poppies just can’t stand it—they’re living in constant frustration, knowing their faves will never measure up.

Well, that’s exactly how Tkkrs and solo stans act when it comes to Jimin and Jungkook. They’re obsessed in the same way—constantly trying to undermine their bond, their individual achievements, and the unique connection they share. It’s like they can’t handle the fact that Jimin and Jungkook are not only thriving but doing so unapologetically and on their own terms. They twist narratives, push ridiculous agendas, and project their insecurities onto them, desperately trying to create drama where there’s none. Just like K-poppies, they’ve built this imaginary rivalry—sometimes between Jimin and Jungkook themselves, or with other members. And for what? Because they can’t accept the reality that Jimin and Jungkook are just… happy together? Smashing records every day?

Honestly, it’s exhausting to see the same pattern repeat itself. Instead of respecting Jimin and Jungkook’s choices and achievements, they’d rather tear them down and live in denial. But, at the end of the day, just like BTS, Jimin and Jungkook keep winning—and that’s what really drives them mad.

[pearlofthewoods]

Spuffy band-fic ramblings (long-post)

I think about this scene so frequently because…"Well, I sing.” 

Yes, of course he does. That man was a poet, he could write such gorgeous lyrics, and no one can tell me Spike wasn’t an active part of the rock scene in the 70s.

Honestly, a whole Spuffy band fic has been marinating in my brain for like a good 6 months now, (like seriously, it even has its own playlist, that’s when u know it’s getting real)… but since I’m only a baby writer I wanna get some writing practise in before I embark on the project, so that I can do it justice. 

However as I literally cannot keep these thoughts to myself, allow me to invite you into my brain for a while. 

(Be warned I'm basically spoiling half the plot of a future fic under the cut so scroll away if u only wanna read it when, or if, it gets written.)

So in my fic idea, there’s a huge underground vampire music scene (particularly in LA), since because vampires are immortal, they’ve lived through so many different eras of music that they have a really deep understanding of music history. They’ve seen so many famous bands live etc (which obviously is one of the few human experiences open to vampires, since so many gigs take place at night and are tied to nightlife culture). 

I’d also say that since vampires have no need to work, if they can get their hands on instruments they'd have plenty of time to practise/dedicate themselves to the craft. 

One head-canon that I have comes from the idea that Billy Idol “stole Spike’s look” from him. What if he stole something else too?

Bear with me here. 

Vampires don’t age, so they could never risk becoming famous in the human world, since people would very quickly notice that they weren’t human. Vampires need to keep a relatively low profile. They also can’t really make money easily from music by playing for other vamps, cause it’s quite unlikely the vampire scene has much money flowing around. Why would it? Everyone can just steal/mug to get what they need.

So in the vampire music world, they’d mostly just be playing for each other to stave off the boredom of eternal life, but with no worries about finances or putting food on the table. 

And dear God that music would be experimental, with none of the usual restraints of human life.

Like I think their music would be very interesting/ outside the mainstream. Perhaps they’d play stuff from entirely different decades which had completely gone out of style, but not amongst vampires who never aged/got uncool (unlike the humans who played it)….

Vampires would also have so many different first-hand musical influences that they’d create the most weird and wonderful sounds. Think Spike’s Victorian musical upbringing mixed with jazz mixed with rock, mixed with… well, you get the picture.

And tbh I think some people would try and capitalise on that, on that raw vitality. Perhaps there’s a demon who records demos secretly in the crowd or steals entire songs and sends them to someone in the know in the music industry. And since vampires don’t exactly have passports, social security numbers or any real documented presence at all, there’s nothing they can do about it. Like what if, in this fictional world, Billy Idol didn’t just steal Spike’s look, but his music too? Frankly, it'd explain the resentment.

Anyway, in my head Spike hasn’t played music for a while, he took a break to look after Drusilla and then got wrapped up in the scoobies and their shenanigans. 

But after Buffy dies? He needs somewhere to put all those emotions. He needs to write goddamn it, he hasn’t felt heartbreak like this for a long, long time. He’s not used to death, he doesn’t know how to deal with it. No vampire does.

So when he’s drinking away the pain in Willy’s one night, some demons he used to know are down from LA and offer him an open spot to sing with them at a new demon club. Spike’s about to turn it down, but they tell him things have changed. Like Wolfram and Hart, demons are all in business now, and this new club will pay.

Spike doesn’t need money… but Dawn does. Tara and Willow won’t tell him anything, (they don’t want to be put in the moral position of whether to accept mugging-proceeds from Spike), but he knows that finances are tight. And this is something he can do for Dawn, and in a way… for Buffy.

So Spike joins a band!

I think he’s probably pretty famous from his past in the 70s vamp rock scene, but this time he wants to change up the music genre. He wants a fresh start. It’s the nineties goddamn it, and he’s certainly not the same vampire he was twenty years ago. He’ll play, but he’ll play on his terms. 

I imagine his newer music to basically be Jeff Buckley’s (my fave 90s musician), which I know might seem a bit melancholy for Spike, but with his current grief, it feels quite appropriate.

Tbh since I basically know nothing about music and can’t even imagine lyrics for toffee, I'd probably even just give him Jeff’s discography and call it a day. It’s fanfic I can do what I like. Grace? Spike wrote it. Job done. 

For example, the lyrics to “Opened Once”?

"In the half-light where we both stand

In the half-light you saw me as I am

I am a railroad track abandoned

With the sunset forgetting I ever happened

That I ever happened"

Half-light = the twilight, the safest time of day for vampires (to quote Edward Cullen, sorry lol). also a metaphor for the place between the vamp world and the human world. A place where Buffy and Spike "both stand", as she’s the slayer and he’s a vampire that can’t hurt people.

‘You saw me as I am’ - After Buffy's resurrection, Spike’s the only person who truly understands what she’s been through, and the experience of crawling out of your own grave. They meet each other where they are.

‘Railroad track’ - ‘railroad spike’. Railroad is a pretty unusual and archaic way of phrasing that word. At least where I’m from. ‘Railroad spike’ is too good of a coincidence. 

‘Sunset forgetting I ever happened’ - Spike doesn’t get to live in the daylight. the sun (and the sunset) are both out of reach for him without the danger of dusting. He doesn’t fully feel like a true vampire anymore, but the human world won’t accept him either. In fact, his human life was so long ago that even the sun itself has forgotten William Pratt.

I also think Spike/ Jeff Buckley is a fitting parallel  since, if I stick to major-canon events, Jeff’s unfortunate passing very early in his career would also fit roughly timewise with Spike’s death at the end of season 7. 

The last unfinished album that Jeff struggled so hard to write? The one Spike wrote when he was getting over his ensoulment and entirely reevaluating who he is, and what that means for his music.

Unfinished final album? Yes. Unpublished? No. 

Because when he accepted wearing that amulet, Spike had a pretty good idea he was going to die. So he did something a vampire never plans to do. He wrote a will. 

If he’s dead, there’s no more worries about fame exposing his immortality right? So his music is published posthumously in the human world (with some bullshit about his talent going undiscovered by the industry during life).

And combined, the proceeds pay for Dawn’s college bills, and lift all of Buffy’s financial worries from her shoulders. 

In the end, that’s Spike’s last gift to Buffy, his music, his poetry…and it finally allows her to rest. 

[cyanrendipity]

#youre correct op but also#nononono i think kabru could Absolutely catch kira#like . gestures to kabru deducing laois’s party being the ones to help them each time(? i may be misremembering)#and how he reads laois as not being Malicious when they thought each helpful encounters were thefts#actually having kabru and light meet would be really funny because its kind of like a mirror?#not exactly of course if it was then i wouldnt like kabru as nearly as much as i do#but its like. putting up personas to get info out of others (Maybe i am so sorry kabru. but thats true for light)#the internal monologues. trying to get into the mindset of whos around them. like on the surface level i feel like light and kabru would ac#t Exactly like each other first meeting- humble but smart and.. not nice but. well-rounded#the only trouble kabru would have would be proving it probably. but at the same time i feel like he could figure something out yknow?#i also wonder how he would feel about the kira case? like hes definitely killed people in the dungeon for crossing him and his team but he#seems to generally want to keep innocent lives.. alive. gestures to the utaya incident#would he think that the killings are deserved or would he think its Too Much- kira crossing a line in a way#its been awhile since ive read dungeon meshi so i . sont know#also to any kabru fans if i misinterpreted him please correct me. i enjoy kabru greatly its just been a While

You come over here, you. You get it (It's me op, reblogging here cause I got shy about rambling about death note) anyway

THEY ARE SIMILAR IN A SENSE BUT ALSO COMPLETE OPPOSITES

Both of them are "willing to crack some eggs" for the "greater good" but there's a massive difference in what this greater good is! For Kabru it is to stop a massive tragedy from happening again, he believes adventurers should be working towards stopping something like Utaya from repeating, he wants to find the truth about Dungeons and whoever is acting in self interest like the corpse retrievers is an obstacle he's willing to get over. For Light the "greater good" is "creating a world for people who deserve it" for Light there's objectively people with more worth and less worth than others, and he thinks of himself as the best person to judge who is who.

One of them is willing to sacrifice people to stop an immense tragedy from happening again the other one is willing to sacrifices people cause he feels like it's his right to do so! They're not the same!

Light hates humans even before he becomes Kira he would never do what Kabru does to save them, everything he says about creating a new world for good people is bullshit he spews for his own ego U_U

Kabru would be able to realize the hypocrisy of Kira right away like L and realize it's dangerous for someone like him to have that power (perhaps he would realize it would be dangerous even for himself to wield it, similar to being a dungeon lord)

Anyway like these replies said, Kabru would def make the Kira killings stop if he found Light, I wont count is as catching him tho, eliminating is not the same thing, bad Kabru, play by the rules (<3)

(oh yeah the difference is that "solving" the Kira case means proving it, I think that's harder than just knowing Light is Kira and dealing with him outside justice)

Now would Kabru be able to catch Kira? Probably not, but can you imagine? The amount of silent staring while thinking in actual death note is nothing compared to what that could be

[kikyoupdates]

Infatuated ⭑˚💌⭑ 𝑎 𝑓𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑒𝑛𝑑

yandere!bnha x reader

yandere, reverse harem, bnha x fem!reader, slowburn, slowburn yandere

Your Quirk is rather unique. It plays out almost like a game, giving you missions and goals that help you become stronger. On top of that, you also have the ability to charm those around you. It sounds innocent enough on paper, and you can’t help but revel in the attention everyone keeps showering you with. But what happens when their feelings give way to something more sinister?

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If someone had asked you a few hours ago how you would be spending your day, you could never have predicted it would be like this.

There's a man in front of you, so incredibly gaunt that you might’ve mistaken him for a skeleton. His cheeks are completely sunken in, practically hollow, and nearly every time he speaks, blood spews out of his mouth. 

This man is the greatest hero in the world, All Might. 

Honestly, you're still struggling to make sense of it. Today has been one big series of misadventures. Starting with Katsuki’s merciless bullying of Izuku at school, then being attacked by some slime villain that attempted to take Izuku’s body hostage, to finally being rescued by All Might—only to discover that there's far more to him than meets the eye.  

Izuku is especially horrified, since he’s idolized All Might for as long as you can remember.  

“But... how?” he gapes. “Are you really All Might? No... it can’t be real. I just don’t understand how this could possibly be true...”  

You can't really believe it either, at least not until All Might lets out a weary sigh and lifts up his shirt, revealing a gruesome wound that has you wondering how he's even still alive right now. Apparently, he got that injury from a villain several years ago, and the aftereffects are so severe that it has permanently weakened him. You're used to seeing the All Might that everyone else knows—that blindingly-bright, impressively muscular man who never stops smiling, no matter what. But the All Might standing in front of you right now couldn't be any more different. He isn't smiling, nor does he give off the impression of someone you can entrust with your life.  

He isn't superhuman. He is flawed and weak, just like the average person.  

“I can’t work as a hero for more than three hours per day,” All Might explains grimly. “That’s my limit. I was trying so hard to get away from you kids... but I guess the secret’s out now. This is my true form. My body just isn’t what it used to be. I’ve kept this hidden from the public, because I can only imagine how frightened people would be if they found out about my current state. No matter what, the Symbol of Peace cannot succumb to the forces of evil.”  

Izuku splutters hopelessly. “But... but... whenever you save people, you’re always smiling and laughing. You always look so sure of yourself, and—”  

“The reason I laugh isn’t because I’m not scared. I do it to distract myself from the constant fear and pressure weighing me down. Pro heroes must always put their lives on the line. It’s an incredibly dangerous job, and I doubt you’d ever find a hero who doesn’t get scared.” All Might pauses, then flashes Izuku a sympathetic look. “Earlier, you asked me if someone who is Quirkless can still become a hero. Knowing what I know about the hero profession, and all the dangers that come with it... I just can’t in good conscience bring myself to tell you that it’s possible.”  

The second All Might utters those words, all the color drains from Izuku’s cheeks. You can see that he’s broken out into a cold sweat, and he's struggling to breathe evenly, veering dangerously close to a state of hyperventilation. 

“I... see,” is all he manages to respond, staring blankly at the ground.  

All Might tries to force a smile, but it isn't very reassuring. “If you care about saving people, you can always go into police work. The police don’t often receive the acknowledgment they deserve, but it is nonetheless an admirable profession. I can’t possibly condemn someone that has a dream. It’s a good thing to push yourself and try to reach your goals. But at the same time... you have to see reality for what it is, kid.”  

Just like that, he leaves, and you can tell that Izuku’s entire world has just shattered.  

Instinctively, you wrap your arms around him and squeeze tight. “Don’t listen to him,” you try to encourage. “Just because there aren’t any Quirkless heroes yet doesn’t mean there can’t be. It’s okay, Izuku. You can still try. Nothing is set in stone.”  

Under ordinary circumstances, this might've worked. Granted, it isn't as if you can just snap your fingers and make everything okay all of a sudden, but you normally succeed in pacifying Izuku whenever he's going through a particularly rough patch. After hugging him and consoling him for a while, he usually calms down.  

Unfortunately, this situation is far from ordinary, and thus, your attempts fall flat.  

“Thanks, [Name].” Izuku’s eyes are already bloodshot and brimming with tears. He is thanking you, but you aren't even sure what for, considering how utterly broken he looks. “I’ll... be alright. All Might isn’t wrong. I need to see reality for what it is. I’ve been such an idiot, all this time.”  

After staring into his vacant, tear-filled gaze, you feel like crying. But you don't , because that's the last thing Izuku needs right now. What use would you be if he ends up having to console you instead? For his sake, you have to stay positive.  

Or at the very least, look it.  

For a brief moment, you even consider using your Quirk to try and cheer him up. To put him under your control and make his mind dissociate, so that he won't have to feel the full intensity of his emotions right now. But doing that feels wrong, somehow. Especially if you don't have his explicit permission. In this moment, the most you can possibly do is keep on hugging him and make it abundantly clear just how much you believe in him, until he finally believes in himself.  

Still. It just isn't fair. What has Izuku done to deserve any of this? Is it really not enough that people like Katsuki keep tormenting him? Why is he now forced to watch his biggest role model turn his back on him?  

You are only fourteen years old, but you're realizing just how incredibly shitty life can be for some people.  

“I’m okay,” Izuku insists, although his expression is practically blank by now. “I’m really okay, [Name]. You don’t need to worry.”  

You smile weakly. “I know you are. Because you will become a hero. Today’s just been rough. Tomorrow will be better. I promise.”  

You refuse to let go of his hand while you walk. Part of you is worried that once you do, you might lose him forever. You fear that he might finally succumb to all the pressure and give up on his dream. Give up on everything.  

As it just so happens, though, life presents you with an opportunity. You hear loud chatter and spot a crowd of people gathered together. It doesn't take long for you to realize that all those people are probably watching heroes go head-to-head with a villain, and so, you pull Izuku in their direction, hoping that it will reignite the flame inside him that is on the verge of being snuffed.  

“Look, Izuku,” you beam. “I wonder who’s fighting today? Let’s watch the heroes kick some villain butt!”  

He's dragging his feet and looks visibly unenthusiastic, but old habits are hard to quit. Even as dejected as he is right now, he still can't stop himself from following you. It makes you hopeful that despite everything All Might said to him, he's still determined to do what he always dreamed of. 

It was your intention to lift his spirits, but in the process of pulling him along, you end up doing the exact opposite.  

There he is again—the slime villain that attacked the two of you earlier. But it just doesn't make any sense. You know for a fact that All Might captured him. Does that mean that he must have escaped at some point?  

“It’s my fault,” Izuku gasps, hurrying to clamp his palms over his mouth. “Oh god,” he breathes shakily, voice muffled. “All Might must have dropped him or something! If only I hadn’t been so selfish and just stayed out of his business!”  

You don't know what to say. Of course, you don't believe Izuku is to blame, but you are too petrified to say a damn word.  

Because the slime villain’s latest victim isn't just anyone—it's someone you know very, very well. 

Katsuki!  

He's struggling with all his might, desperately fighting to stay conscious and resist succumbing to the villain. Katsuki is strong. He has always been strong. Even so, that doesn't make him indestructible. And right now, as he struggles  to get enough air to even breathe, you can tell that he's terrified beyond words.  

You want to help. You really, really do, but your previous experience with the slime villain already proved that you're helpless to do a damn thing.  

More than anything, you're afraid of what might happen to you if you even try.  

Izuku, however, is different. Which is why, while you stand there, frozen stiff from fear, Izuku has already started running.  

You cry out to him, try to tell him that it's too dangerous, but he isn't listening. Despite being Quirkless, you know that Izuku is already more of a hero than most people could ever hope to be. That's why he doesn't hesitate for a moment to try and save someone, even when all the odds are stacked against him.

His bravery and selfless nature are what manage to finally spur you onwards, but when you try to run after him, one of the heroes on site pulls you back. 

“Don’t!” he insists. “What that kid just did was incredibly reckless! You’re not going anywhere! You could get seriously hurt!”  

The hero holds you in place, and you thrash and try to break free, even though you aren't a match for his strength. All the while, Izuku is doing everything he can possibly think of to try and free Katsuki from the slime villain. He throws his backpack at him, frantically pulls and claws at the slime to try and give Katsuki enough room to breathe—just anything.  

He must be scared. So scared that he probably can't even think straight, but even so, he doesn't give up.  

As a result, he manages to move the heart of a man who was convinced he’d already reached his limit for the day.  

All Might appears out of nowhere, back in the broad, muscular state you're used to seeing him in. Blood is spewing out of his mouth, so you can tell that he's pushing himself beyond measure, but that's because he and Izuku are one and the same. When faced with someone who is in dire need of help, they both have a tendency to act first, and think later.  

With All Might on the scene, the slime villain doesn't last much longer. You look on with tears in your eyes, shoulders sagging from relief when Izuku and Katsuki are finally both rescued. The villain’s amorphous body has splattered all over the place from the pressure of All Might’s punch, and it's safe to say that he’s been immobilized for good.  

It's over. This hellish day has finally come to an end.  

“Oh, Izuku,” you whimper, rushing straight over and wrapping him in a hug. “You nearly gave me a heart attack! I was so scared of what might happen to you...”  

He chuckles weakly, blushing while he leans into your touch. “I-I’m okay. I know what I did was reckless, but... seeing Kacchan like that, I couldn’t possibly ignore him. His eyes looked they were pleading for help.”  

“No, you did the right thing,” you insist. “You bought Katsuki enough time for All Might to act. You might’ve even been the one that inspired him to do so. I wish I could’ve run to help right away, like you did... but I was too scared. I’ve clearly still got a long way to go.”  

“That’s giving me too much credit. I really couldn’t accomplish anything on my own...”  

You expect that Izuku will be praised for his bravery, but instead, he is met with nothing but reprimands from some of the other heroes who reacted to the crisis. They berate him for charging headfirst into danger, without any concern for his own well-being. You try to point out that if not for Izuku, Katsuki might have already been done in by the time All Might showed up, but they aren't having it.  

On the other hand, from what you can tell, Katsuki is being showered with praise. His explosion Quirk is incredibly powerful, and that, paired with his resilience and tough nature, has clearly made a strong impression on the pros. They're all amazed that he held out for so long against the slime villain, when most people would hardly have lasted a few minutes.  

Katsuki is amazing, no doubt about it, but there's no mistaking how afraid he looked back there. No matter how headstrong and fearless he tries to act, at heart, he's still only a fourteen-year-old boy. 

For that reason, you figure that what he needs most of all right now is not to be praised incessantly, but for someone to show him some genuine concern.  

You hug Izuku one last time, stand up, then begin walking in Katsuki’s direction. 

Unfortunately, you don't make it very far.  

“Stay back,” Katsuki grits out, the veins in his forehead threatening to burst. “I know what’s going on in that stupid head of yours. I can tell based on that goddamn pitying expression you have. Stay back before I get really fucking mad.”  

You want to show him that you care. Even if he is horrible to Izuku at times, especially earlier today, he's still your long-time friend. You doubt you'll ever lose the soft spot you have for him. Is it really too much to ask that he lets his guard down and accepts your consideration, for crying out loud?  

“Katsuki—”  

“No,” he spits. “Shut the fuck and march back to shitty Deku’s side. He’s the one you’re so obssesed with anyways.”  

You shamefully look down at your feet. It seems like it's pointless to even try. No matter what you do , no matter what Izuku does, Katsuki keeps interpreting it as an insult. Izuku just tried to save his life, and yet Katsuki is still glaring at him as though he’s somehow been wronged.  

None of it makes any sense, and it hurts  to feel like things will never go back to the way they used to be.  

Heeding Katsuki’s words, you trudge back over to Izuku. It's time to leave. It's been a long, incredibly tiring day, for you too, but Izuku especially. He needs to get some rest and put all of this behind him. 

Right before you leave the scene, Katsuki makes sure to glare viciously in your direction one last time.  

“I never asked you to help me, piece of trash Deku,” he grits out. “I didn’t need your help. Got it? In fact, I saved myself. You didn’t do a goddamn thing! So, don’t expect me to owe you or some shit. You seriously piss me the hell off. Stay out of my life from now on and mind your fucking business.”  

Neither you nor Izuku say anything in response. A rational-minded person would have said ‘thanks’, or even, ‘I really appreciated what you tried to do.’ But Katsuki is just too stuck in his ways. He's determined to always make things out to be negative. He refuses to ever acknowledge that even he needs help sometimes.  

Katsuki’s lack of gratitude just makes Izuku’s sacrifice that much more noble, because you know for a fact he didn't expect anything in return.  

“You really are amazing, Izuku.” You smile gently, reaching down to grab his hand again. “I mean, the fact that you tried to save Katsuki without even thinking twice about it, even after he hurt you earlier today and said all those horrible things. That’s exactly why I know you’ll become a hero. Most people wouldn’t have been able to save someone who’d bullied them for so many years.”  

Izuku stares down at your hand and admires the way your fingers are interlocked with his. Unless you're imagining it, he looks like he's feeling a bit better now. At the very least, his expression isn't hollow and lifeless anymore. Perhaps he's just relieved that Katsuki is safe, or maybe he feels a small sense of pride over his heroic feat earlier. You have no way of knowing for sure.  

The two of you walk in silence, and neither of you seems willing to let go of the other’s hand. Izuku still can't forget All Might’s words from earlier, and even though he tried to help his former friend, he knows that still isn't enough for him to become a hero. He realizes now that without a Quirk, it's nothing but a baseless dream.  

Still, he's comforted by the fact that you think he's amazing. Maybe he can strive to become a police officer, like All Might suggested. He can still save people that way, and as long as you are by his side, then... 

Perhaps that alone is enough.  

Of course, you are none the wiser as to what thoughts are going through Izuku’s head. You don't know just how much he's fixating on you and placing you on a pedestal, unintentionally relying on you as his sole source of motivation and happiness. It's never a good thing for any one person to depend wholly on another, and if not for All Might’s sudden appearance, Izuku might have fallen further into his obsessive thoughts.  

“All Might?!” Izuku cries out. “But... what are you doing here? I could’ve sworn you were surrounded by reporters back there...”  

“I gave them the slip,” All Might chuckles. “I’m still the Number One hero, you know. More importantly, I had some things I wanted to say. Or rather, some corrections regarding what I said earlier.”  

You cock a brow, and Izuku can't help but do the same. Well, he’s come all this way for a reason, so you suppose you have no choice but to hear him out. You just hope he won't say more depressing stuff that would completely crush Izuku’s soul.  

However, much to your surprise, All Might doubles back and basically retracts his previous words. He admits to being inspired by Izuku’s courage and willingness to help save his friend, despite being Quirkless. Unlike before, All Might has nothing but praise for him. He apologizes for having dismissed him so quickly and recognizes that Quirk or not, Izuku has the heart of a hero.  

“You can become a hero.”  

They're the same words you've repeated to Izuku for the past ten years, but hearing them from a hero like All Might is understandably more impactful. Izuku is so moved that he can't help but crumple to his knees, and even though he was already crying, this time, they are happy tears.

You wrap your arms around him. Overwhelmed by emotion, it doesn't take long for you to start crying too.

You would be lying if you said you expected to hear from him again today. After all, you didn't exactly leave things off on a good note. But you are a forgiving person by nature, and again, you can't find it in you to completely resent Katsuki, even after all the scummy things he’s already done.

Perhaps you shouldn’t keep giving him more chances, but you do it anyways.

It's very much like him not explain anything and stick to his stubbornness. Honestly, though, in light of recent news, you're in a really good mood. You thought for sure that today would suck all the way until the end, but it had actually been rather incredible. 

All Might has chosen Izuku as his successor, and he is going to pass his Quirk onto him.  

Your eyes nearly bulged out of your head when you heard him utter those words. You thought he was making things up just to screw with the both of you. But no, apparently All Might’s Quirk—One for All—is the type of Quirk that can be passed down from one person to the next. Izuku is going to have to train his butt off to get stronger, but if he succeeds, then he'll have a Quirk waiting for him. 

He isn't going to be Quirkless anymore, and the thought makes you so happy that you can hardly stop grinning.  

“What’s with that stupid look on your face?” Katsuki snaps. He's obviously peeved by how chipper you are, but unfortunately, you can't tell him why. All Might has sworn both you and Izuku to secrecy. One for All is purely confidential, and you aren't allowed to tell anyone, not even your own parents.  

Still, you physically can't wipe your smile off your face. Things are finally looking up for Izuku, and it's impossible to contain your excitement.  

“I watched a funny show earlier,” you brush off. “I can’t stop thinking about it. Anyways, what’s up? Why’d you call me out here?”  

For some reason, Katsuki glances away, unwilling to look you in the eye.  

“Deku didn’t save me,” he finally mutters. “I wanted to make sure you didn’t get any stupid ideas.”  

“Huh? Are you still on about that?”  

You blink repeatedly. He really is ridiculous. When is he going to realize that he's way too fixated on Izuku? It isn't healthy. Izuku is perfectly content to just do his own thing and be nice to everyone. Katsuki's the one who keeps going out of his way to harass him for no reason. Back when he was younger, he always used to say that Izuku was obsessed with him, but it's so clearly the other way around.  

Still, you're in a really good mood right now, and you refuse to let Katsuki put a damper on it.  

“Okay, Katsuki.” You nod patiently and smile. “Izuku didn’t save you, it’s true. All Might was the one who saved you. Izuku was worried about you, because you know that’s just how he is. He worries about everyone. But I know he isn’t the one who defeated the slime villain or anything, so can we please just put this past us?”  

Katsuki clenches his fists. “And I’m saying that he had no reason to worry about me, because I was just fucking fine! All he ever does is look down on me. It’s like he thinks I’m this weak-ass bitch, and he’s so much better than I am.”  

“No,” you frown. “Like I said, he worries about everyone, not just you. You’re not the exception, Katsuki. Some people tend to worry more than others. That’s just the kind of person he is. Just because you’re strong doesn’t mean people can’t worry about you. I don’t get why you think it’s such a bad thing. It shows that they care. It means that they value you. It doesn’t mean they think you’re below them.”  

“I don’t need anyone to worry about me—least of all a Quirkless weakling like him,” he spits.  

You really don't know what else to say. You're always running in circles with this guy. He's just too tied up in his flawed way of thinking. He believes that any sort of concern directed his way is automatically some form of mockery. You wish you could help him think more clearly, but you just don't know how. 

“I care about you, Katsuki. I care about you, and that means I worry too. Even though I know you’re so much stronger than I am. Don’t you see that it’s not about being strong or weak? I care about you because you’re important to me. It’s just that simple.”  

For just a moment, Katsuki’s eyes widen, and he looks like he's finally starting to understand.  

He raises your hopes, only to immediately dash them. 

“I’m important to you,” he swallows. He's thankful for the dark of night, otherwise you would’ve noticed that he's blushing right now. “You mean that, right?”  

“Of course I do,” you nod. “I’ve known you for so long. You’re still my friend.”  

Katsuki just stares at you, and there's something weirdly ominous about the way he does it, without so much as blinking once.  

“If I’m so important to you, then tell Deku you never want to see him again.”  

“What?”  

You can't help the gasp that leaves your lips. Seriously, what in the world is he on about now? There's no way you're ever going to do something like that. He's acting crazy.  

“You know that’s never going to happen,” you grimace. “Just stop it, Katsuki. If that’s your idea of a joke, it really isn’t funny.”  

Katsuki’s eyes are completely wide. “Who said I was joking? You’re the one who started running your mouth about how important I am to you and all that shit. So, I’m calling your bluff. If I was actually important to you, then you would cut that shitty nerd out of your life, because you know just how much he gets under my skin. Unless you’re saying he’s more important to you than I am.”  

Before you can even muster up a response, Katsuki has already stepped closer to you. He grabs you by the hand, except unlike whenever you hold Izuku’s hand, this sensation is far from pleasant. Actually, it even borders on painful, because of how hard he keeps squeezing your fingers.  

It hurts, and quite frankly, he's freaking you out.  

“There’s no way you think that fucking loser is better than me... right?” Katsuki insists. He refuses to let go of your hand, despite the fact that you keep trying to shake him off. Everything about him right now, from the tone of his voice to that unsettling look in his eyes, just reeks of desperation. He only ever seems to get this desperate whenever Izuku is involved.  

That's what you believe, however, the reality is slightly different. 

You and Izuku together—that is what makes Katsuki’s blood boil like no other.  

“Katsuki, I don’t think either of you is better or worse,” you try to explain. By now, you’ve given up on trying to push him away or make him let go of your hand. You just hope that you can get him to calm down. “Please, can you just stop this? I really want all three of us to be friends again. I hate how things turned out.”  

Perhaps one day, in the distant future, the situation would improve. But if you asked Katsuki right now, he would rather die than ever make amends with that shitty freckled nerd. He hates Izuku with every fiber of his being, and not only because he's Quirkless.  

Because he's stolen you from him.  

“You don’t give a fuck about me,” Katsuki chuckles dryly. “I doubt you ever did. Deku was the one you always made googly eyes at. Stop pretending like you want anything to do with me. That kind of fake shit makes me sick to my goddamn stomach.”

You try to protest, but he's already walking away. He steps inside his house and slams the door shut, not even bothering to glance back in your direction.  

Katsuki is gone, and you are left outside in the cold, completely alone. You raise your head and look up at the sky. It's so endlessly vast and dark. Not a single star is in sight. You know that they're out there, somewhere, hidden behind a black veil, but since you can't actually see them, it does little to comfort you.  

Whatever happiness you felt earlier was clearly destined to be short-lived. The day has ended on an awful note after all.

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[fangdokja]

i keep rereading your yan marine corps! x fem reader. what was reader's role that she had to follow the marine's... adventure?

"You’ll never escape me—not when I’m the only one keeping you alive."

❤︎ Synopsis. In a world where death is mercy and survival means suffering, he claims you as his, promising protection through fear, control, and a twisted love that will leave you questioning if escape was ever truly possible.

♡ Book. A Heart Devoured (AHD) : A Dark Yandere Anthology

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Marine Corps x Fem. Reader

♡ Oneshot. #2 - The Devil Who Saved You

♡ Word Count. 3,153

♡ TW. dom + top + older yandere, non-con, possessiveness, psychological manipulation and conditioning, suggestive themes, fear play, emotional manipulation and abuse, psychological and emotional trauma, isolation, monitoring, lack of boundaries, non-con kissing and touching, forced relationship, BDSM, manipulation of circumstances, threats, descriptions of gore and human suffering, themes of violence and dystopia

♡ Note. Due to Tumblr content guidelines involving minors, some plot details of the original story were changed to fit the platform. If you want the true original story, please look at the author's official website or Ao3.

♡ A/N. I'm glad you enjoyed it :)). I'm surprised you're rereading it a bunch. But, I guess people do technically reread anyway. Sorry, slipped out of my mind. It just makes me happy seeing underrated works get credit, whether fandom or other stories I've written. So, thank you. Anyways. Technically, this was an ask. But it's a nice idea, and I've already had it in my drafts since before. I was just postponing lore dump with Yandere! Marine Corps, due to other works. Anyways. All I knew before, in all honesty, is that it's war time. But, time to pull out the fantasy skills and world build! Wooh! And to be honest, I'm hungry to write some gore crumbs like my familiar writing style, ahh. So, here, I present to you lore backstory (well technically part of the backstory). Hope you all enjoy it (also, sorry I talk a lot in notes).

♡ Music. Levee & Brick (Down to This) by Graffiti Ghosts

The world had fallen into an abyss so deep it seemed there was no end to its descent. The wars that came before—those waged for borders, ideologies, or resources—were merely preludes to this ultimate collapse. What erupted now was not war; it was annihilation. A calamity that turned cities into craters and humanity into prey. Every shred of civility burned away in the endless fires of desperation. The air was thick with the ash of the old world, a grim veil that painted the skies an eternal gray.

You had lived a different life once, one of relative normalcy in the dwindling days before the collapse. Back then, you had a future, a purpose, something as simple and human as hope. But that had been stripped away when the world’s powers unleashed devastation so complete it birthed horrors no living creature could comprehend. Technology had become a weapon of eradication, bioweapons and nanotech turning survivors into deformed creatures of flesh and steel, feral and mindless, hunting whatever moved. Rogue factions—remnants of militaries, mercenaries, and scavengers—rose like carrion birds, preying on the remnants of humanity.

In this hellscape, survival was no longer a matter of luck but of submission. Submission to those strong enough to carve their will into the earth and impose their dominion. He was one of those few. A towering force of unyielding violence, a soldier molded by decades of carnage, by a war that had reshaped him from a man into something closer to a machine of flesh and blood. The United Corps, once a venerated military institution, had fractured into splinter groups, each operating like a self-contained warlord’s regime. He was among their best—a leader, an executioner, a strategist, and now your captor.

You were assigned to him by pure chance—or perhaps cruel design. In this new order, value wasn’t measured by money or power but by the usefulness of flesh and mind. And you had been marked as useful. Perhaps it was your background—your knowledge, your resilience, or simply the misfortune of catching his attention when your convoy was intercepted by his unit. The corps didn’t merely take prisoners; they assessed, dissected, and consumed whatever remnants of humanity they deemed salvageable.

And he deemed you salvageable.

There were no illusions about the nature of his claim over you. It wasn’t love. It wasn’t mercy. It was obsession, possessive and cruel, born of a warped sense of necessity. “You belong to me now,” he had told you in that deep, unrelenting tone, the heat of his breath warming your face even as the chill of his words froze your soul. “Out there, they’ll rip you apart for the scraps on your bones. With me, you’ll live—if you behave.”

The battlefield was safer than the no-man’s land outside his dominion. That was the most damning truth. To run from him was to dive into a living nightmare where survival wasn’t a goal but a punishment. Outside his protection, death was not granted quickly.

You’d seen it. You’d heard the screams echoing through the wastelands, watched the crude factories churn with suffering. He’d forced you to look once, pressing your face against the window of a blood processing plant as tears streaked down your cheeks. “This is what’s waiting for you if you run,” he had whispered, his voice devoid of sympathy. “With me, you’re mine. Out there, you’re theirs. Decide.”

────────────

The smell hit you first. It wasn’t just the copper tang of blood; it was the rancid stench of rotting flesh mixed with chemicals—formaldehyde, acid, and something sour that clawed at the back of your throat. You gagged, instinctively raising a trembling hand to cover your nose, but he was quicker. His large, calloused fingers wrapped around your wrist, dragging your arm back down with enough force to make you whimper.

“Don’t look away,” he growled, his voice low and gravelly, vibrating like a distant explosion. “You need to see this.”

You didn’t want to see. You didn’t! But he held you there, his unyielding grip on your wrist a silent command. He stood just behind you, close enough that his breath fanned across the back of your neck, hot and suffocating.

The factory loomed before you like the mouth of some great beast, its jagged, rusted metal teeth glinting in the dim light of the sulfur-stained sky. The air outside had been foul, but inside, it was worse—a miasma of decay and despair.

The conveyor belts stretched endlessly, carrying bodies in various states of disassembly. Some were intact, their limbs hanging limply as they were dragged by crude metal hooks. Others were barely recognizable—mangled flesh and shattered bone mashed together in a grotesque parody of humanity. You tried to look away, to focus on the machinery, but even that was a nightmare of grinding gears slick with gore.

A loud, wet squelch drew your attention to a nearby station. A corpse—a woman, or at least what remained of her—was hoisted onto a steel slab. Her eyes were still open, glassy and staring, as if frozen in the moment of her death. A mechanical arm descended, its blade glinting dully under the flickering industrial lights. It carved into her chest with a precision that was almost surgical, splitting her ribcage open to reveal the organs beneath.

You felt bile rise in your throat as another arm extended, pincers gripping her heart. It yanked the organ free with a sickening suction sound, sending a spray of blood across the walls and floor. The heart was deposited into a waiting vat, where it joined dozens of others, floating in a viscous, murky liquid.

“They don’t waste anything,” he said, his tone devoid of emotion, as if he were explaining the workings of a simple machine. “Every part has a purpose. The skin for leather. The bones for tools. The organs for… whatever the hell they need them for.”

Your knees buckled, but he caught you, his arm snaking around your waist to keep you upright. “No,” he hissed, his breath hot and sharp against your ear. “You don’t get to faint. You’re going to watch. You’re going to understand.”

A scream tore through the air, high-pitched and raw, and you realized with horror that some of them weren’t dead. Your eyes darted to the source of the sound, landing on a man thrashing against his restraints as he was dragged toward another station. His legs were gone, severed at the thighs, and the stumps had been crudely cauterized to keep him alive.

“Please,” the man sobbed, his voice hoarse and desperate. “Please, just kill me. Just—”

The blade came down before he could finish, cleaving his remaining arm from his body. His scream turned guttural, the sound of a soul breaking, before it was cut off entirely by a needle plunging into his neck. The liquid injected was thick and black, spreading through his veins like oil. His body convulsed violently for a moment before going still.

You turned your head, choking on a sob, but he gripped your chin and forced you to face the scene again. His fingers dug into your skin, bruising and relentless.

“This is what happens without me,” he said, his voice a low snarl. “You think you can survive out there? Think you can make it without my protection? Look at them!” He shook you slightly, as if to drive the point home. “This is what you are without me—meat.”

Tears streamed down your face, hot and shameful, as you stared at the conveyor belts and the countless bodies reduced to parts. You couldn’t stop shaking, couldn’t stop the nausea that twisted your stomach into knots.

Another scream pierced the air, this one an elder's. Your head snapped toward the sound, and your heart plummeted. A thin figure, frail and sickly, was strapped to a table, his wide, terrified eyes fixed on the approaching machinery.

“No,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “No, no, no…”

The machine didn’t care. The blades descended, and you squeezed your eyes shut, the image burned into your mind even as you tried to block it out.

He didn’t let you escape even that. His hand tightened on your jaw, forcing your eyes open. “Don’t you dare look away,” he growled. “This is reality. This is what’s waiting for you if you run.”

You broke then, sobbing uncontrollably, your body wracked with shuddering breaths. He held you there, unyielding, until you were too weak to fight. Only then did he pull you close, his grip on you shifting from punishing to possessive.

“That’s right,” he murmured, his tone softening in a way that was somehow more terrifying. “You understand now, don’t you? You’re mine. And as long as you’re mine, this will never happen to you.”

His lips brushed against your temple, a mockery of comfort as he whispered, “But if you ever forget, I’ll bring you back here. And I’ll make you watch again.”

────────────

The battlefield stretched like a bleeding wound across the earth, jagged trenches carved into the mud and ash. The remnants of what had once been cities were nothing more than skeletal buildings clawing at the smog-choked sky. The air was thick with the acrid tang of burning fuel and the gut-wrenching stench of charred flesh. Bomb craters bubbled with viscous, oily water that gleamed under the pale, radioactive sun. It was a place where hope had been smothered, where humanity’s last breaths came in choking, gurgling gasps.

He stood before you, his shadow long and oppressive, a monolith of muscle and bloodied steel. His armor—if you could call the piecemeal, blood-streaked remains of his tactical gear armor—clung to him like a second skin, the fabric worn thin and blackened with soot. In his hand, a rifle dangled lazily, as though he didn’t need it. And he didn’t. He was a weapon unto himself, his body and mind honed by decades of violence, cruelty, and war.

“Do you remember this place?” His voice was a low rumble, scraping against your nerves like a blade dragged across bone. His eyes, sharp and unyielding, bore into you with a force that made your knees weak. “Where I found you?”

You nodded faintly, though you didn’t trust your voice enough to speak. Your silence wasn’t just fear—it was a learned response, a survival tactic you’d mastered in the years since he’d claimed you.

“Do you know what they were going to do to you?” He crouched, bringing his face level with yours. His presence was suffocating, his frame dwarfing your own. His voice dropped lower, almost tender, as though sharing a secret. “No, you don’t. You only saw what they let you see. Let me show you the rest.”

He yanked you forward, his grip on your wrist unyielding, and led you toward the edge of the battlefield. The ground squelched beneath your feet, a revolting mixture of mud, blood, and something viscous that you didn’t want to identify. In the distance, the ruins of an old hospital came into view. The building leaned at an unnatural angle, its walls crumbling but still intact enough to conceal the horrors within.

“You’ve seen death,” he said, his tone conversational, as though discussing the weather. “But you haven’t seen what people do when death isn’t enough. When they want to break you first.”

The interior of the hospital reeked of antiseptic and decay. The sterile smell of chemicals clashed with the unmistakable odor of rot. The walls were streaked with dark stains, their origins uncomfortably clear as you stepped over discarded limbs, the flesh marbled with gangrene and crude surgical scars.

In the first room, a soldier lay strapped to a gurney, his body contorted unnaturally. His chest had been split open, ribs wrenched apart like the wings of a grotesque bird. His heart was missing, the cavity where it had once beat filled with a tangled mess of wires and tubing. The machinery whirred softly, pumping fluids through his veins and forcing his lungs to expand and contract in shallow, mechanical breaths. His eyes were still open, rolling wildly in their sockets as they locked onto you.

“He’s alive,” the man behind you whispered, his voice a mix of mockery and menace. “Barely. They like to see how far they can push the human body before it gives out. Sometimes they even stitch people back together, just to see how much more they can take.”

You gagged, your stomach lurching violently, but he grabbed your chin, forcing you to face the horror. “Don’t look away,” he commanded, his tone sharp and unyielding. “You need to understand. This is what was waiting for you.”

He dragged you into another room, this one colder, darker. Rows of tanks filled the space, each containing a murky, greenish fluid that distorted the shapes inside. At first, you thought they were bodies, but as you moved closer, you realized they were something worse. Limbs were fused together in impossible configurations, heads sprouted from torsos without necks, and eyes blinked independently in faces twisted beyond recognition. The creatures floated listlessly, their expressions a grotesque mix of agony and confusion.

“Human experimentation,” he explained, almost lazily. “They weren’t trying to kill you. They were going to use you. Turn you into something like this. A weapon. Or worse—a resource.”

You stumbled backward, but he caught you, his arm curling around your waist with a possessive strength that left no room for escape. He pressed his lips to your ear, his voice a dark caress. “I killed them all for you. Do you see now why you belong to me? Why you owe me your life?”

He pushed you onward, through rooms filled with horrors you couldn’t have imagined in your darkest nightmares. A man impaled on a series of metal rods, his skin flayed back to expose muscle and bone, still breathing through a series of tubes jammed into his throat. A woman with her limbs replaced by crude prosthetics, her mouth sewn shut but her eyes screaming. People of all ages locked in cages, their bodies twisted and deformed, their cries muffled by gags soaked in blood.

“This is what humanity has become,” he said, his voice cold and detached. “This is what I saved you from. You were a prize to them. A rare find. They would’ve broken you in ways you can’t even imagine.”

You fell to your knees, the weight of it all crashing down on you. He crouched beside you, his bloodied hand gripping your chin and forcing you to look at him. His eyes, sharp and unyielding, were filled with something dark, something terrifyingly close to affection.

“Don’t forget this,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “Don’t ever forget who saved you. Who you belong to. Because without me…” His voice trailed off as he gestured toward the carnage around you. “This is all you’d ever know.”

You sobbed, the sound muffled against his chest as he pulled you into his arms. His embrace was as suffocating as it was unyielding, a cage that you could never escape. And yet, in that moment, you clung to him, because the alternative was too horrifying to bear.

────────────

So you stayed.

Not because you trusted him. Not because you wanted him. But because the alternative was infinitely worse. And yet, staying came with its own horrors, its own chains. His obsession didn’t shield you from his cruelty; it only redirected it. He was a man who didn’t just command obedience—he demanded submission. Every glance, every word, every trembling breath was a reminder of your place beneath him. When he touched you, it wasn’t with gentleness. His hands were calloused and bruising, gripping and claiming, leaving marks that would never fade.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he would say when your eyes filled with defiance or despair. “You’re still alive because I allow it.”

The world outside was dead, a barren wasteland of mutilation and starvation, yet with him, the torment was suffocatingly personal. He didn’t just want your compliance; he wanted your surrender. His words were a scalpel, cutting into your psyche with surgical precision. He would pull you close, his breath hot against your ear, his voice low and gravelly as he whispered promises of protection intertwined with threats so visceral they made your stomach churn.

“You’re mine,” he’d say, his hand resting possessively on your throat. “Every inch of you. Every thought. Every breath. Try to take that away from me, and I’ll show you what real pain feels like.”

There were moments when his control slipped, when the line between protector and predator blurred beyond recognition. He would keep you close, his body a cage of muscle and violence, his gaze piercing through your facade of composure. The way his hands roamed wasn’t tender—it was invasive, a reminder that he could take whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted, and there was nothing you could do to stop him.

And yet, you didn’t resist. Couldn’t. Resistance wasn’t a choice. Not here. Not with him.

The world outside was unlivable. The world with him was unbearable. Between the two, you chose to endure.

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[hiding-under-the-willow]

Could I ask for any and all info you have about ghosts!Gem?

(i'm so normal about her i promise)

I kind of imagine Gem coming from a high class family with just like a shit ton of brothers and some incredibly lenient parents. So she grows up a little rough, rowdy, and snarky. Her family does a lot of hunting, and so they own a lot of different hunting estates in different areas, including the property that she would later go on to haunt and Etho would go on to buy much later down the line. She's one of the best shots in the family, much to the jealousy of her brothers'. She dies in the 1890s in a hunting accident when one of her brothers shoots her in the back. Whether or not this was purely a true accident or a malicious act of some kind is up for debate. The property ends up essentially abandoned after that. I very much was thinking about Dorian Grey when I was brainstorming about her, hence the time period and hunting accident death and the uncertainty of the circumstances.

I imagine her being a little entitled and full of herself, but also easy to befriend. I imagine this is how she manages to win over Helsknight. He's an asshole but she manages to match and exceed his asshole energy so perfectly that he has to respect her, by the time she's living in the little cabin with him and starts actually being nice he's just in too deep to even register what's happened or when the change occured. What can I say maybe the confidence isn't unearned on her part.

I think after spending almost 100 years alone with Helsknight, who can be kind of dreary even after she manages to soften him a bit, she probably gets a little weird and obsessive about other people who come onto the property. Very much an embrace of change as opposed to Hels' stubborn clinging to the past. She'll just follow people around and talk to them and commentate on their actions, knowing full well they can't hear her. She's delighted when Cub dies and she finally has someone to bother besides Helsknight. She's equally delighted when Etho comes back able to see them, a delight that Etho is not fond of. She eventually wins him over the same way she did Hels, the queen of worming her way into people's good graces without them noticing. She also, maybe, gets a little bit too attached to the idea that people who have near death experiences involving ghosts end up being able to see them, especially after Grian and Joel come around and they realize the same thing had happened to Grian.

So, y’know, maybe she puts a little too much effort into playing cat and mouse with Joel, putting those old hunting skills to good use trying to find a way to /almost/ kill him so he could also see them and she could give him some of her much needed comentary on his perceived skills or lack thereof. She drags Hels into it a lot of the time since he has an ability to interact with the living world that she doesn't, and so honestly the fact that most of her plans fail is probably owed less to her skill as a hunter, or Joel's complete ability to walk out of dangerous situations unscathed and unbothered like a looney toons character, and more so to Hels own hesitance to be responsible for another near death experience on the property.

[sunsetovertheocean]

I feel like sibling and platonic relationships don’t get talked enough, especially in relation to romantic relationships in fandoms.

Like cool, I love these ship, but can we PLEASE discuss the fact that Dean is the only person who has never lied to Lia? How he is the only person she will listen to, because he’s the only person she trusts? How Dean was the one person who prevented her from feeling trapped all the time? How Dean was the only person Lia ever let know and get close to the real her? How they were the only constants (besides Judd love him too) in each other’s lives for years in their childhood? The way he knows her and she knows him? She knows how to comfort him and distract him and get him to feel things and tried to help him with his father by looking through his father's file, ignoring her own feelings about it because she just wanted to help him only to find out that she can’t help. (Just think for a moment how she must have felt when she realized that. Because this genuinely breaks my heart.) The fact that they are intensely protective of each other, the way they have conversations without talking just by looking at each other, the way Dean trusts her and Lia trusts him, how they are literally siblings.

And this is going into kind of headcanon-y territory, but I like to believe that Dean didn’t ask Lia any questions about her past and waited for her to tell him herself, and refrained from profiling her (too much at least), and truly didn’t/doesn’t know anything about her past that she didn’t/doesn’t tell him. And how Dean told him things about his past he hadn’t told anyone before, not just to get her to trust him, but also because he trusted her. Just think for a moment please, how Lia, a girl who has been lied to and hurt and threatened and abused by every single person in her life, would feel about meeting someone who didn’t do any of that. Who never even lied to her, not once. For every lie she told him, Dean only ever told her the truth. Dean didn’t blame her for anything, for any part of what she went through. How confused she must have been, finding out that not everyone was like that. How hurt she must have been when she realized that what happened in her past, her childhood, was so much worse than she thought. Because before she thought that everyone was like that and it was normal, but meeting Dean who was entirely fundamentally different in every single way, showed her that it wasn’t. Think about how Dean must have felt, meeting a girl so defensive and closed off. How meeting her awakened a side of him he didn’t think he had, the side that felt and loved and trusted and the side that felt the inexplicable need to protect that girl.

And the fact that to protect her, Dean turns the attention on himself and his past, which he hates, just so Lia doesn’t have to face questions about her own past. Lia would go through hell for him, and he would do the same for her.

Think about how before, all of Lia’s love had essentially been very idk submissive almost, like how she followed her mother and what her mother told her. I think she truly believed at some point that her mother was safe to trust. And then, well, we all know what happened and how her mother is actually evil and— Anyway, after her mother, the only person she trusted in her childhood before, completely shattered and destroyed all senses of trust in others, she lets herself trust and love this boy who trusts and loves her. And this love is fierce and protective, infinitely intense and powerful. The kind of love that can destroy worlds and build new ones, defying all logic and all boundaries. The opposite of what her love had been previously. And think about how much she had to have trusted him to let herself love like that.

Also think about how hurt Lia must have been when Dean shut her out. She trusted him with her whole being, she loved him and she saw them as a unit regardless of what happened and what other people entered and left their lives. They would always be with each other. Dean had never shut her out before, and Dean shut her out too. That hurts my soul way too much for it to be healthy. (I am choosing to believe that they had a conversation afterwards and then they both proceeded to cry and it never happened again yay happy ending tbh considering writing that bc I don't think I will survive if it doesn't end happily like that)

And Dean!! He’s lived his entire life terrified of feeling, terrified of becoming his father. He was living in a house alone with Judd and profiling killers which definitely perpetuated his fear, and then here came this girl whom he could protect. A girl he wouldn’t let himself hurt, a girl he could help for once and not mess it all up. And he didn’t mess it up. He saw how hurt she was, and how little she was willing to admit the truth to. And in that, he saw someone he could understand. He saw someone who he could profile for a good reason, but only profile enough to be able to get her to trust him and not enough to violate her privacy and that trust. He let himself get close to someone for the first time in his life. And for the first time in his life, he wasn’t a monster. Lia didn’t see him as a monster.

Because of their past and childhood, Dean didn’t trust himself and Lia only trusted herself and no one else. But meeting and loving each other? It taught Dean he can trust himself not to hurt someone. And it taught Lia that she can trust someone who won’t hurt her.

Maybe it’s because of the amatocentric world being way too focused on romantic relationships, but why aren’t we talking about this more??