#some of the game felt a little incomplete and not quite as..filled out as it could have been maybe

[andragoras-in-vanity]

i finished veilguard, my life has no meaning, also what yhe FUCK was that post credit scene, im afraid. and i cant wait for the next one tbh. i hope my rook gets to be a lil well remembered hero who stays ready as the veilguard but has decided to protect thedas from demons and twisted spirits using their expertise as a mourn watcher and my likely connection to the fade, ya boy would spend time learning ancient elvhen funeral practices from bellara and how they effect the fade too.

i just want my boy to have some peace with his husband, go on ...safer adventures...cause his heart nearly gave out a few times and itll take a while to put it back together again. hes always going to be looking for harding and honouring her too, i want to think she was the one he went to when he had panic attacks. i think hed be searching spirits and the fade, and hed go visit hardings mom (would probably cry more than she does too especially if she looks like lace). hed have tea with mahanon and visit the griffins, and the caretaker a lot, but when its all over and everything is mosty recovered and he visits vorgoth and myrna he gets a lecture from myrna and a begrudgingly relieved hug, and vorgoth doesnt really say much but takes him aside and pats his head like when he was child and would hide from his lessons because they made him feel dumb.

i love dragon age, i never want the series to end, i need to revisit inquisition again

[thefallenangelsgang]

This is the incomplete scene the line from the tag game is pulled from. I'm not tagging it with anything in the hopes it gets hopelessly buried but I am too excited to not share. I am not kidding when I say narrative has not felt this easy in a long time.

Spoilers for Act 3 of Baldur's Gate, TW for Blood and Body Fluids (spinal fluid to be precise), I wanted the stakes to feel a little higher so I peppered in some bodily trauma hence the blood 'n stuff, brief uncouth language (there's a few fucks sprinkled in there)

Some context for it: this picks up after the failed Elder Brain Domination sequence immediately as the portal closes with the Party in the Astral Plane. The Tav and Narrator is a High Elf named Wynleth, she romanced Gale. All of the Companions (minus Minthara cause she didn't make it into the cool kids club) plus two OCs (repped by hirelings in my gameplay) are present.

Also, Emperor hate if you are sensitive to that. I'm not the Tentacle's biggest fan frankly, hence why this exists.

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At times the squirming feeling had been uncomfortable. It even had been painful, distracting from whatever I was attempting to focus on. This is a whole other plane of being. The fire in my cranium consumes me, making coherent thought impossible. My mouth is filled with the distinct taste of copper and something I cannot place. Pressure builds and it makes it feel like my eardrums might rupture or perhaps my head might just explode altogether. That almost would be a welcome release from this torture

Then all at once it stops. The sudden shift from everything being too much to feeling nothing at all is damn near deafening in a different way than the pressure and pain was. I loll in disorientation and hands steady me, bracing my shoulders. 

My vision swims at first. Blues and purples and greys swirl like strange liquid in a glass jar. It only adds to the dizziness brought on by the pervasive numbness. The hands are still gripping my shoulders. I can almost feel my hands, almost. The gritty texture against my palms speaks to handfuls of dirt clenched in my fists. I will myself to release them.

It’s muffled but I think someone speaks my name. So close I can feel the vibrations in my chest yet we might as well be separated by an eternity. It’s an effort to bring my hand up to grip their forearm. It’s an even greater effort to bring my head up to look them in the eyes. 

I can’t discern exactly who it is through the intricate dance the colors are doing in my eyes. The figure is dark against the shimmering ethereal background so it is not one of my fairer companions whose complexions would only muddle my identification more. I try to ask for a name but a strained sound is the only thing to push past my lips. Well that and a bit more blood.

A new wave of numbness washes over me starting from the crown of my head and spreading to the very edges of my person. A little clarity comes with it this time and the vertigo subsides.

“Take it easy, you gave us quite a scare.”

Shadowheart. Still muffled but sounding closer by the second. Something I’m hoping resembles a smile graces my face. 

Then The Emperor speaks and a crashing wave of pain drowns the words out, ripping a cry from my mouth. No fresh blood this time though. 

A pulse of Shadowheart’s healing magic surges through me, a touch too harsh considering she is dealing with my brain pan, but I think that can be forgiven given that it sounds like she is reaming the Illithid for all it’s worth. 

“-stupid? Her brain has been scrambled enough. Until she’s stable, kindly shut the fuck up.” 

The silence after is telling. That round of healing must have knocked something back into place though, the dirt comes into sharp focus. I never thought I’d be so happy to see pebbles. I’m less pleased to see the amount of blood and clear liquid that mars the ground and both pairs of knees in my field of view. “Sorry about your pants.”

My speech is still lethargic and ungraceful and I certainly missed the mark on the coy tone I was going for, but the way Gale’s face floods with relief at my coherence feels almost as good as the magic coursing through my veins. 

“My pants? Don’t ever scare me like that again!” The incredulity of his initial statement melts into something of a mix of concern and joy as he cups my face. His eyes betray the fright I put him through though. I wish I had the strength to feel sorry about that but I really can only make room for relief at the moment. “I really thought that was going to be it,” I say thickly before gathering some saliva to spit the fluid in my mouth off to the side. 

“So did we. It was… a lot.” Shadowheart is somewhere behind me. The fear peeks through her usually even cadence. I must have put on quite a show. “Is this clear stuff what I think it is?” I venture and really hope she doesn’t affirm my suspicions. Spinal fluid means something was desperately wrong. I grit my teeth as I wait for a response.

“Y-Yes. I think so at least.” Now she touches me. A gentle hand between my shoulder blades. “You’d think they turned on a hose the way it sprayed out of you, darling.”

The urge to laugh at Astarion’s colorful retelling of the events is a difficult fight, one I lose. I bury it into my shoulder and try to cover it with a cough but the way Gale clucks his tongue at the comment of very poor taste breaks the dam. My reaction cracks a smile on the wizard’s face, however miniscule, though. 

“I’m sorry my love, it’s all just a little absurd,” I say, still gallantly attempting to retain some composure.

“You’re cracking.” 

“Spectacularly.”

Teasing each other in this moment seems entirely irreverent to the fact that I almost just died and that the situation we are in just got a whole lot more grim but the Gods can strike us down for attempting to find some levity. 

Gently I lean forward and rest my head against Gale’s shoulder. I’m fucking tired and I feel lightheaded despite everything Shadowheart has done but there’s very little she can do about that without actual supplies. I’m short a not insubstantial bit of liquid between the blood and the spinal fluid. It certainly looks worse than it is though. We could try a cocktail of potions and elixirs to get me back up to speed but I think I’d rather rest a bit before we try drugging me into fighting shape. Gale’s arms around me feel nice.

“Am I all clear Shadowheart?” I turn to rest my temple on Gale’s clavicle. From this vantage I can see my party gathered around in a tight bunch wearing grim faces of worry. Shadowheart looks exhausted, I likely took quite a bit out of her, but she nods. 

The Emperor floats back over and makes a motion like it’s asking permission to speak, shocking me more than it probably should. But if the psionic link is going to turn my brain to soup then maybe it is best to ask the cleric first before she has to revive me again. Her stern gaze is comforting and promises hell if I end up with more liquid leaking out my nose. 

The psionics aren’t painful per se, they certainly are more uncomfortable than usual. I try not to grimace too much and make Shadowheart call the communication off. Charades are not indicative of good battle plans and I have a feeling reading is only going to make the lingering headache worse. Besides, we really don’t have time.

“The situation is worse than I thought.” I watch Astarion roll his eyes theatrically. He chooses to keep his mouth shut. Smart man. “What you went up against is an Elder Brain no longer. The magic of the crown has caused it to evolve. It has become something more - a Netherbrain.”

“Is that why I took up the role of a garden water feature when I tried to dominate it?” The withering looks I get from my companions are severe. I roll my eyes gently and burrow into Gale’s neck a little more. Try coping with this clusterfuck in a reasonable manner. 

“I wouldn’t have used that turn of phrase but- yes. It unleashed the psionic power back on you. You are lucky I pulled you out of there. We nearly lost everything.”

And reality comes crashing down.

[aackxrmxn]

CHAPTER TWO: Healing Nicely - You're Ours Mesh'la (NSFW) Bad Batch Series

Warnings: Established poly relationship, unprotected sex, slight choking kink, oversensitivity, slight hair pulling kink, Crosshair being mean ASF at the end :(, swearing, being called inappropriate names.

Plot: With your foot healing nicely, and time off from your duties, Tech and Hunter patiently wait for their promised time to spend with you.

Word Count: 3.7K+

Pronouns of Reader: She/Her

Gender of Reader: Female

Pairing: Hunter x Reader, Tech x Reader, Crosshair x Reader, Echo x Reader, Wrecker x Reader.

Author's Note: I'm back and better than ever! Welcome to the Tech and Hunter chapter! This chapter is probably poorly written (as I may have written this too late at night), but I still hope you enjoy the content! Once again, don't forget to like it and reblog as they help immensely! If I have forgotten any triggers/warnings, please let me know and I will add them. Strikethroughs mean the chapter is still being worked on, so keep in tune for when it is released! Happy reading!

THIS SERIES: << Chapter One: The Incident || Chapter Three: Waiting Patiently >> OTHER: << Masterlist || Wattpad || Tiktok >>

Taglist: @lackofhonor, @spp2011, @cynderquest (fill this form out to be added to taglist! Strikethroughs mean I couldn't tag you for whatever reason).

-.-.-

You woke to a sudden jolt, the ground shaking slightly. That's when you heard the annoyed voice of Crosshair, "Wrecker, will you quit it? Some of us aren't as cheery as you in the mornings." He grumbled and you rolled in your bed, the covers twisting around you as you opened your eyes.

You saw Crosshair sitting at the seats in the middle of the room, eyebrows furrowed together as he sipped the hot coffee in his mug. He was wearing just his blacks, but without a shirt and you bit your lip.

"See something you like, princess?" He asked suddenly and you giggled as you closed your eyes and rolled to your back before throwing the blankets off you and stood up. Tech and Echo were still asleep, snoring lightly beside you, Hunter was probably in the refresher as you saw the door closed and the dull red light showing the words of 'occupied'.

Slowly walking over to Crosshair, you took a seat next to him. He didn't turn to face you, but you saw the subtle hint of a smirk on his face. "Good morning, love." You whispered in his ear and kissed his cheek. He closed his eyes at the contact.

"AW, what about me?!" Wrecker basically yelled, scarring Echo awake and Tech groaned and rolled to face the wall, slamming his pillow over his ears.

"Sh," both you and Crosshair hissed and Wrecker shyly apologised. "Come 'ere, big boy." You opened your arms and Wrecker took to opportunity to pick you up and spin you around playfully.

You kissed his chin as he set you down and felt another pair of hands on your hips then. You turned and gawked at the sight of wet-haired Hunter with no bandana on. "There any hugs left for me?" He asked and you happily leant into his arms and snuggled into him as his arms wrapped around you tightly.

"Good morning, Hunter." You whispered, knowing his was particularly sensitive to sound in the mornings; Wrecker probably not helping with his oversensitivity.

"Morning, cupcake." The nickname made you smile with a curiosity, cupcake... You had never been called that before. You heard Crosshair sniggered before getting up from the seat and making his way to the kitchen.

You pulled away to inspect Crosshair getting another cup of caff, yeah, he was the coffee addict in the Batch. "Never been called that before." You said with a giggle as you looked up at the tattooed man.

"Get used to it." He whispered, he then leant down to your ear, "unless you want to be called something a little more... degrading." You practically moaned at how deep and husky his voice was against your ear.

He leant back up then with a smirk and you squirmed in his arms still wrapped around you. "I wouldn't be opposed to the name, Sarge." His smirk widened, a darkness covering his eyes and you wriggled out of his grasp and walked over to the kitchen with Crosshair.

You placed a hand on his back and hugged him from behind as you saw he was turning on the stove to make eggs. He stiffened under your touch and pulled away quickly. You frowned, watching as he went to get the other ingredients.

"Don't take it too personally, Crosshair isn't much of a cuddlier." Tech then said beside you and you jumped a little, not realising his was there. You calmed down then and leant into his side. "I see your leg looks a little better. Angling your foot definitely had sped up the healing process."

You looked down at your leg as well, "y- yeah, it doesn't hurt too bad today." You said and smiled up at the genius of a man. "What do you have planned for today?" You asked then as he helped you to the chair where you sighed into as Tech turned on the warmer.

"Nothing really, maybe fixing up some of my incomplete projects. Crosshair, Echo and Wrecker were going see some of the markets that the Kaminoans had put together." Tech explained, kneeling down to inspect your swollen ankle and you winced as he unwrapped it.

"That's today?" You asked. "So this would be our first year anniversary of meeting each other?"

Every rotation, the Kaminoans put up some stalls in the cafeteria for the clones. It was basically the clones day off from duties and they could have fun with some of the games that were there. You remembered last rotation you had taken Jesse and Fives there and played 'tag and go'. Let's just say, some of the Kaminoans didn't like you breaking the chairs and tables as you leaped over them and hid. That was the same day you ran into Echo by accident, him splattering apologies left and right as he spilt his red, frozen drink all over you. You had laughed it off and he soon joined in too, and the other Batch members stood by him. It was a good day, and a day you wouldn't forget.

"Technically, yes." He said as he rotated your ankle slowly and softly. "I will give you some time with the compression wrap off to give your foot some air to breath." Tech stood then and went over and grabbed you a large cup of coffee. You felt the chair beside you dip then and turned to the other side to see Echo looking at you with adoration in his beautiful honey eyes.

"Good morning," he greeted and leant in slowly to press a kiss to your temple, hesitant like you were going to push him away. "Are you going to come and join us?" He then looked at your foot, realisation covering his face and he apologised.

"Echo, baby, don't apologise. You apologise too much," You giggled as you placed a hand on his stomach gently and leaned towards him to kiss his lips. He basically whimpered into your mouth and melted against you. "But no, I think I might chill out here today if you don't mind."

"Of course not, ma'am." He said and you giggled at the name. First cupcake, and now ma'am? It warmed your heart.

You leant into his ear then, "you know where you could call me that?" Echo's cheeks heated up drastically and he stuttered as he was about to speak, but Wrecker's hands came down on the back of the chair, almost tipping it with you and Echo seated on it.

"You ready, Echo?" He asked loudly, and Echo cleared his throat before nodding, giving you one glance back at you before getting up.

"The only reason why I'm going is because Kix said there was sniper gear there." Crosshair said, his usual scowl on his face. "Don't you dare bring me into any of your games." He warned Wrecker, pointing an accusing finger at him.

They left then and Tech handed you the caff he made before going over to his bunk and began fiddling with some wires and a piece of metal. "You're not going?" You asked Hunter as he sat beside you.

"No, I don't think I could handle it this rotation. It's too loud there, I barely survived last rotation." He explained and threw an arm over your shoulders and bought you closer to him. There was a silence then, just the quiet hum of Tech's gear as he continued to work on something. "So, we calling you mesh'la now?"

You laughed then, Tech looking over at you with a small smile. "Looks like it." You said and closed your eyes as you sipped the hot coffee, a small moan leaving your lips as the incredible taste. "Plus, I thought you wanted to call me cupcake, now?" You shot back and watched as Hunter's eyes made their way to your lips.

"Depends," he started, "cupcake is for the sweet and innocent you, mesh'la when you're being good, and well... something else if you've been bad."

"What if I'm extra bad?" You whispered then, watching how he licked his lips and his eyes roamed your face. "Would I be your dirty little slut?" You taunted.

You gasped as Hunter suddenly laid you back on the couch and giggled as his eyes dilated. "You better watch your mouth, mesh'la."

"I thought I was being called that when I was good." You commented, wrapping your arms around his neck and bringing him closer to you. "Why not call me your dirty little slut?" You asked huskily as Hunter groaned in your ear and nipped lightly at the sensitive skin under it. You fluttered your ears closed at the sensation.

"What? You wanna be a dirty little slut for us?" You moaned as he spoke against your neck and licked up it, leaving a hot trail in his wake. "Wanna be a good girl for us, or be a dirty little whore?"

You opened your eyes and made eye contact with Tech and smirked. "Depends if Tech will eat me out this time." You felt the wetness pool between your legs, hot and heavy breaths coming from your mouth as Hunter went lower, his damp hair on your skin setting fire in your belly.

He tugged your shirt off then, revealing the smooth skin of your stomach. "Maker," Hunter sighed, hands sprawling out on your stomach. "You're so beautiful." You blushed at his comment and felt Tech lift your head so he could situate himself there, your head in his lap.

Hunter ventured further, hands now kneeding the tops of your thighs and your wriggled impatiently before he took your sleep shorts off, careful of your injured foot. "Hunter," You slurred, you panted as you felt his fingers rub you over your underwear.

"Be patient, mesh'la." Tech mumbled, eyes transfixed on your squirming form beneath him. You tried to stop moving, grabbing onto Tech's pyjama pants as you felt your underwear being slowly pulled down from you.

"Maker," Hunter breathed again at seeing your already soaked core in front of him. "Every part of you is truly gorgeous, cupcake." He practically groaned as he began to kiss your inner thighs.

A shaky breath came from your throat at the contact, "please Hunter, don't tease." You begged, hands moving to cup his cheek. He looked up you with a glint in his eyes before slowly leaning in to lick up your pussy, never breaking eye contact.

The air left your lungs, feeling the sensation of Hunter's tongue on your lower lips and threw your head back against Tech's body. "Fuuuck, that's so good." You moaned as he circled the tip of his tongue around your clit. You whined as Tech's hand came down to kneed the soft plushiness of your breasts.

"Kriff, she's definitely not going to last." Tech pointed out as he noted how your body jolted when Hunter firmly sucked your clit into his mouth.

Hunter pulled back then, "I'd rather her cum on something else." He said darkly and stripped from his clean blacks he put on not long ago. "Is that okay with you, cupcake?" He asked as you saw his semi-hard cock being freed from his pants. You bit your lip and nodded at him, never taking your eyes off as he began to stroke his cock. He gently grabbed your jaw then, lifting your head to peer into his chocolate brown eyes. "I need you to say it, cupcake."

"Yes please, Hunter." You whimpered into his hand, spreading your legs wider for him to rest into.

"That's a good girl, mesh'la." Tech said huskily above you and you saw the dark glint in his eyes as well.

Hunter ran the tip of his cock through your folds and moaned quietly. "Want to let you know," he began, eyes fluttering closed, "that my enhanced abilities may not make me last too long."

You smiled up at him, cupping his face and bringing him down for a sloppy kiss. "That's okay, just do however much you're comfortable with." You said and he smiled back at you before completely sinking into you.

A hoarse moan made it past your lips, echoing in the room. Hunter grunted, resting his head into your neck before he began to move. "Oh, kriff-!" He moaned, feeling how you gripped around his cock snuggly.

Tech groaned as you peered up at him, hand reaching out to move a piece of stray hair from your face. Hunter leant up then so he was on his knees and began to thrust into you faster, causing you to moan louder.

"That's it, moan louder for us." Hunter gasped, face already flushed. His hands gripped the tops of your thighs again and pulled you down further on his cock, reaching deep within you; just as Crosshair had done the day before.

Tech leant over you then, fingers nimbly coming in contact with your clit and rubbed small and firm circles on it, causing a throaty groan to come out both yours and Hunter's mouth.

Hunter's hips snapped harder up into you and you heard the squelching sounds of your wetness coating his cock and whimpered quietly. Hunter began babbling incoherent sentences, thrusts becoming sloppy, "Cyare, not gonna-"

You moaned at the name, it somehow rolling off his tongue beautifully, even if you didn't know what it meant. "Please cum Hunter, cum inside me and fill me up!"

Hunter's hips stuttered then, a particularly loud moan coming from his mouth, deep and rich. "Karking- Y/N!" He spilled inside you, stopping his movements and letting his hot seed coat the inside of your walls. You moaned at the feeling of being used in this way.

Hunter shuddered as he slumped against you, heavy breaths leaving his lips. You stroked his hair, fingers massaging his scalp and he continued shuddering above you. "You okay, Hunter?" You whispered in his ear and he turned his head to the side to see you, an exhausted smile creeping up on his face.

"Y- Yeah, though I can't say the same about Tech." He said with a raspy voice and you almost forget that Tech was here, and looked up at him.

"If you don't mind, I would like my turn now." He said, voice probably just as shaky as Hunter's and you saw him palming himself through his pants, an obvious tent showing. Hunter slowly got off you, softened cock slipping out of you which caused you to whine, you hadn't yet cummed.

You nodded and Hunter moved off towards the bathroom, probably wanting to clean himself off. Tech moved so he was where Hunter was and took his pants off, throwing them absently on the floor.

"Baby," You whined, "get yourself some relief." You said and moaned as he ran his cock up and down your pussy so he was lubricated; not that you needed it. "Fuck..." You moaned as he slipped inside you then, your warmth completely enveloping him and he grunted as he pushed himself further inside you.

He leant down then, his face inches above yours and you resting your forehead against his. ""Can I move?" He asked then and you nodded desperately. He started with a softer pace, moaning as he pushed back inside of you.

You felt a hand on your head then and looked up at Hunter who gave you a warm smile before he disappeared again. Tech hit a soft spot inside you, and it snapped you back to reality and moaned loudly.

To quieten you, Tech kissed you, full of passion and hunger and his hips sped up more. You moaned again, into his mouth, before his tongue slipped past your lips and into your own.

Your hands reached up, wrapping around his neck and tugged at the strands of his hair there, causing an audible gasp to leave your lips. "Tech," You whimpered as he angled his hips higher, hitting an extra soft spot inside of you. You shook, feeling the heat of an orgasm bubbling to the surface, "Tech..." You warned then, nails digging into the back of his neck.

"That's right, mesh'la, I want you to cum around me. I want to feel you gush around my cock as I spill inside you." Tech spoke dirtily, and you gasped as he dived for your neck.

"Fuck, fuck, fuuuck." You chanted, legs tightening around his hips as you almost were tipped over the edge, all you needed was that extra push. "Tech, baby, please..." You were whining for more, anything more.

Tech sat up then, but never faltering his movements. His hand came around your throat then, squeezing it, but not as hard as what Crosshair had done. His other hand came down to rub your clit in furious circles and that's when you came. You shouted his name, the hand only wrapping around you tighter as a response and your whole body shook violently.

You heard Tech groan then, hips stuttering as Hunter's had done as he spilled himself inside of you. He grunted your name, releasing your neck to grab onto the chair to steady himself.

"Well, that was something." You heard the husky voice of Hunter then and finally opened your eyes to meet his chocolate brown ones above you.

"That was good." You huffed, still out of breath and felt Tech pull out. He and Hunter helped you sit up then before Hunter grabbed a cloth and began to wipe you down, eyes lingering on your cum-soaked cunt.

You took a breath, leaning into Hunter's side as you closed your eyes. "You want me to help you with a shower?" Tech asked and you opened your eyes to see the pilot with a warm smile on his face.

You giggled and nodded and he helped you towards the refresher. "I'll let you know if I need help." You told him, leaning up to kiss his cheek and you smiled again. He closed the door behind you and you looked at yourself in the reflection, eyes scanning over the love marks Tech had made there, and you giggled as you turned on the shower.

The hot water cascaded down your back and you moaned, delighted by the hot water relaxing your sore and used muscles. You heard the front door whoosh open then and Wrecker laughed loudly. You shook your head and laughed as you grabbed out your shampoo and began to wash your hair.

"You should have seen the food that was there!" He yelled, probably stuffing his face with whatever was there. "I saved mesh'la some! Where is she?"

"She's in the refresher, now be quiet." Hunter said, as you heard boots walking away from you. "Hey, don't go eating all of it! You said you were leaving some for Y/N."

"Oh, right... I forgot." Wrecker said, and you could already see his face drop.

"There wasn't any rifle gear there," Crosshair sniggered, "and I see you were busy."

"AW, did I miss out on that?" Wrecker asked, sounding upset.

Tech interrupted and cleared his throat. "It was a fair ordeal, we hadn't yet been with Y/N. Wrecker, don't be selfish."

"Real fun, you even spilt the coffee on the chair we just got." Echo noted and you felt a tinge of sadness creep within you and you quickly finished washing your hair and body.

You wrapped a towel around your head and body and stepped out of the refresher, everyone's eyes turning to you. Wrecker gawking at you the most. "I didn't mean to spill the coffee, I'm sorry."

"Hey, it's alright. Nothing Tech or myself can't clean up." Hunter said, stepping towards you and cupping your face between his palms. "Plus, it was our fault that it spilt, not yours." You smiled as he squished your cheeks playfully and leaned in to hug him.

"How touching..." Crosshair muttered, pulling out a new toothpick after throwing the other on the floor. "Well, remind me next rotation to not go to the markets if it means I can fuck Y/N."

"She's not a plaything," Echo said then and Crosshair scoffed.

"Yeah, and that's not what you thought when she willingly opened her legs for us?" He retorted and you shrunk back at what he said, hiding behind Hunter's body.

"Hey, don't say that about Y/N! She's gorgeous and stunning, and you should learn to respect her!" Wrecker shouted, shoving his brother.

Crosshair shoved him back, "Respect a whore that opens her legs for anyone? I think not." You wanted to cry, feeling hot tears make their way to the surface. "Plus, she's not even that good at anything, so why keep her around? Throw her out for the next man to fuck her."

Hunter spun then, punching Crosshair right in the face and making him stumble back at the suddenness of the impact. "Quit talking like that about her!" He shouted, never had you heard him raise his voice this much.

You stepped back, your back coming in contact with the door of the refresher. By now, tears had soaked your cheeks and your whimpered, catching Echo's attention.

"Hey, it's okay. Come here." He said softly and took a step forwards as Crosshair threw Hunter off him. You shook your head and quickly opened the door before slamming it shut behind you and locking it.

A shaky breath caught your lips as you slid down the door and onto the floor. "What the hell is wrong with you?" Hunter asked as more tears slipped from your eyes.

"Y/N?" Tech suddenly asked at the door.

"G- Go away." You whispered, sniffing.

"I have clothes for you." You took the clothes from Tech then, quickly opening the door before slamming it back shut again. You got dressed in the plain white shirt and black leggings he handed you and saw your teary reflection in the mirror.

You took a deep breath then, opening the door and saw Hunter still standing over Crosshair. Their eyes turned on you, and you tried your best not to slam the door again.

You limped your way over to the front door. "Where are you going?" Echo asked and you turned to face him.

"Away." You spat, "Don't follow me. And you," You pointed at Crosshair, "Don't you dare talk to me ever again!" And with that, you slammed the door in front of them all.

[fanfic-enthusiast]

Holiday Party Fervor

His friends were due to arrive any moment. Ratau stretched his back and went over his mental checklist of everything he had for the party one more time.

Decorations, check. Cookies, check. Candy canes, check. Eggnog, check. Knucklebones, of course.

He breathed a sigh of relief, tugging at the knit scarf around his neck. Everything should go fine. This would be great! This was the first holiday party the four of them have had in years. The tradition fell out of fashion for the four of them to get together when the weather got chilly. Stopping right around the time when Ratau had lost his crown all those years ago.

It felt nice setting up decorations around the shack to make it feel festive. It gave the small space a kind of warm and cozy feeling. All that the now cheerful shack needed were some guests to really make the space come to life.

As this thought entered the rat’s mind he heard a knock on the door.

“Hurry up Ratau, we are freezing out here!!”

“Oh! Coming!!” He's quick to reach the door and open it wide, all three of his friends stand there wrapped in winter coats and scarves to stave off the winter chill. “My friends welcome!”

“Oh cut the formalitiesss Ratau, we are just glad to sssee you again.”

“Yes! We couldn’t wait to party again like we used to, Bop was going on about it the whole trip here.” The worm on top of Klunko’s head nodded slightly as Klunko crossed the threshold and started removing his coat. Moving to help Flinky out of his winter ware as well.

“Hmf. It actually looks nice here for a change.” One of the best compliments to come from Shrumy in all honesty, warmed the old rat’s heart.

“Glad to have you all here my friends. What do you say we start off the night with a few rounds of Knucklebones?” Varied expressions of approval filled the space as the friends settled around their favorite pastime. Interrupted only briefly when Klunko got up from the table to fetch everyone in the group a tall glass of eggnog, dusted with cinnamon.

The space was soon filled with festive laughter and cheer as the group of friends rolled dice and drank together. The fire in the stove may have kept the shack warm from the elements outside but the comradery between these four brought a kind of warmth to the space that had been missing for far too long. That Ratau missed for far too long.

Having his friends over so often for game nights was different than this, this festive cheer that only came about when all of them were together for the holidays. Each of them brought something to the group that made gatherings feel incomplete if they weren’t present. Even Shrumy with his sourpuss attitude.

Speaking of Shrumy, he even surprised everyone with holiday sweaters for this get together! One for each of them! Along with some excuse of them being ‘no good for betting against if they were half frozen.’

They were very nicely made as well, the turtle put a good deal of time into making each custom sweater special. The pattern on Klunko’s even had an image of his severed hand sewn on the front which brought quite the hearty laugh from the crow when he spotted it.

“I still intend to win that back!”

“Ha! In your dreams, bird brain.” Shrumy shifted his shell to show off the hand strapped to the side of it before turning away yet again.

Donning their new festive sweaters they set about eating and drinking more eggnog together around the knucklebones table.

“Hey Ratau?” Klunko swirled his drink a little. “Did you make the eggnog differently this year? Tastes stronger than usual?”

“Hm? Oh yes! Just a little bit… I think? I wanted to make sure this would be a fun night for everybody so I got out the good stuff. Might have gone a little overboard.” “Oh! That's nice! You didn’t have to do that! It's great just spending time with you all for the holidays.” “Yesss it’sss been agesss after all.” Flinky smiled and took another long sip of the egg nog. “That being sssaid I’m not complaining about the ssspecial treatment. Hehehee.” Shrumy nodded in agreement and tossed his dice onto the table. And Ratau smiled, he was feeling quite touched by all his friends wanting to be around him like this. Meant they would be doing this again next year, and longer still after that if their luck held. Only time will tell. All that was left for him for tonight was to enjoy the company and celebration of friendship around him.

~

While the moon hangs high in the sky and the forest outside is blanketed in white snow and silence, the inside of the shack was full of more than just warmth and light. It was full of the best kind of warm lively chaos that happened when good friends got together.

Candycanes were shared along with the eggnog and other treats Ratau had prepared for the evening. He even got out some mistletoe for a few pranks, something he hadn’t done since their last holiday party. Dangling it above his friends heads without one’s knowledge sent him into laughter fairly easily. Though it usually came with ‘revenge’ of some kind later in the evening.

He would have to worry about that later however. Because as of right now, the only thing on his mind was song.

“I WON'T ASK FOR MUCH THIS CHRISTMAS!!! THIS IS ALL IM ASKIN FOOORRRRR!!!”

Ratau was on top of the knucklebones table, face flushed with his scarf wrapped around his forehead, holding his staff to his mouth like a microphone. While the rest of the friends swayed with the music and laughed nearly as loud as his singing. “I JUST WANNA SEE MY BABY STANDIN RIGHT OUTSIDE MY DOOORRR!!!”

“I jusst want you for my own!!” Flinky climbed up on the table and coiled around Ratau, squeezing a bit. “More than you could ever know!!” Klunko joined them on top, wrappin his arm around the two of them while Bop struggled to stay on his feathery head as they swayed. “Make my wish come truuuuuueeee!!!” Shrumy clambered up to them, on the table for his piece. The furniture squeaked under his feet. “ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAAAAAAAS IS YOOOOOOUUUUUU!!!” All four of them shrieked to the ceiling before falling to the floor from the table top in fits of giggles and ramblings of the lyrics. Flinky still coiled up around Ratau who laughed between hiccups. Shrumy slammed his fist on the floor as he was overcome with giggles. And Klunko struggled to get his feet under him, holding onto the table as he too was made weak in the knees with laughter.

Yeah… perhaps Ratau did go a bit too overboard with the eggnog.

~

Lamb tucked the gifts into their fleece as he stepped up to the door of the lonely shack. “Ratau? Happy Holidays! I have some things for you and the others.” No reply came from the door, which was odd. “Hello?” Lamb took it upon themselves to open up the door to the shack and was stopped in their tracks by the sight before them. Ratau was laying on top of the knucklebones table, fast asleep with some mistletoe tied to his tail, covered in red lipstick. Klunko was just coming to, in the corner of the room, where he had a candy cane tied to the stump where his hand used to be. Which he waved at Lamb lazily with a slurred “Hi there wee Laaaammmmbb.”

Shrumy was on the floor still out cold, wearing red lipstick and surrounded by a couple mostly empty punch bowls. Which… explained why Ratau was covered in makeup. And… Lamb looked around a bit more, then up and yep. There was Flinky, coiled around the rafters with a santa hat and snow white beard. “...Ill come back later tonight then.” And Lamb closed the door behind him with a chuckle. Leaving the old men to sort themselves out.

Klunko looked over his shoulder to Bop, who was curled up in the corner next to him munching on a cookie. “We… are absolutely doing this again next year Bop. Yeeaaaahhh.”

~~~

This was a secret Santa request for @teeteekaa

[bubblegumbeech]

My first Phic Phight fic!

For @ecto-american’s prompt

His name was Danny.

That was the first thing he knew for sure was true, when he had first woken up it was what everyone called him, and it fit just fine, wasn’t something off or uncomfortable so he let it settle over him before he tried to speak.

His voice didn’t come at first, and it hurt to try so the nurses made him promise to take it easy for now, to sit back and listen. So he did.

He listened as the people around him spoke at length about how much they missed him, about how they couldn’t wait to get him home again, about how glad they were he’d survived.

The loudest and most talkative of the people that visited him and called him Danny, was a large man in an orange jumpsuit that went on long enthusiastic tangents that Danny had long stopped paying attention to. He was almost always with a smaller, authoritative woman named Maddie, who insisted He call her Mom. They told him they were his parents.

They told him they loved him.

And then they told him everything else.

The first time Danny remembered something it was with excitement, he was still in the hospital room and between the visits from the men in the starched white suits, his parents, and the doctor, he had been wrestling with the feeling that something was missing.

It had only been when Maddie had finally taken off the hood and goggles of her jumpsuit had Danny gotten a flash of familiar red hair and asked, “where’s Jazz?”

His heart buzzed at the question, sure, so sure that it would get answered, that he had remembered something.

But both Jack and Maddie had just looked at him, disappointed, and he couldn’t bring himself to ask again.

Eventually, once the doctor declared him competent and unlikely to slip back into his coma, his parents had taken him home.

There were streamers all over the house and a giant party banner that read “Welcome Back” in thick black lettering and Danny forced out a small smile as he looked around at the unfamiliar surroundings. Maddie walked up behind him and he flinched, his body acting before his brain could catch up.

She had frowned at his reaction, and when Danny, stuttering, tried to apologize she said it was okay, and with a tightlipped smile, she pulled him into a hug.

He forced himself to relax, frustrated with himself. This was his mother, there was no reason for his instincts to be so afraid. Jack had joined the hug and eventually Danny found himself relaxing for real, sure maybe getting his memories back was a slow uphill climb, but at least he wouldn’t do it alone.

Eventually his parents let him go and told him he was free to walk around the house and reacquaint himself with it. His room was the first door on the left upstairs, the bathroom was down the hall and the basement, apparently, was off limits.

So Danny went upstairs into his room. It looked something like a teenager’s room he supposed. There were the posters hung haphazardly on the walls and they were torn at the corners as if someone had ripped them all off the walls before hastily taping them back up. The bed was made too, and there was a lot less dust than he was expecting after being gone for a whole month.

In fact, it looked like he’d cleaned and organized the whole room before he’d fallen into his coma and Danny didn’t know why, but that thought set him on edge. Maybe he was just an organized person?

It was just… he didn’t feel very organized.

He kept looking around. There was that feeling that something was missing, something important to him, and he walked over to the nightstand by his bed. Placing a hand on the polished wood Danny fought the flash of a model spaceship that appeared in his memories. It wasn’t here though and Danny frowned. Was that something else he’d thrown away and simply forgotten?

Shaking his head Danny headed back downstairs, maybe he should just ask Jack, er, his dad? He should really get used to calling them mom and dad. But before he headed down he went to the room across from his and knocked.

Maybe he was being foolish, but he had expected someone to answer, had a name even come to mind. When no answer came he opened the door himself only to find a storage room, nothing but shelves and boxes and Danny scolded himself for the painful ache he felt in his heart.

It was another week before Danny had another memory, and just like the last two, it didn’t fit quite right. Like a piece from another puzzle jammed where it shouldn’t fit. So he’d asked Maddie.

“Sam?” she’d said, a carefully blank look on her face, “Oh! I remember Sam, she was an old friend of yours you used to talk about her all the time. Shame she moved away.”

And just like that, he’d had his answer as ill fitting as it was. Sam was a girl he knew that moved away, the memory he’d had, of her crying face screaming at him to stay awake just stay awake damnit, was probably from a long time ago. The pain he felt in his chest -just to the right of his heart- at the thought of her not being near and that he’d probably never see her again? That was nothing important.

It was another couple of weeks of sleeping in that house, waking up and going downstairs to eat with his parents, to chat about memories he didn’t have and tell stories he never resonated with, before he woke up screaming for the first time.

Maddie had instantly run into his room, Jack not far behind and Danny scrambled away from them both. His mind filled with images of painful green light and the ominous glint of red goggles twisting his reflection in their lenses as they looked down on him.

His parents had pushed past the barrier of pillows and blankets he’d made and pulled him into their arms, rocking him and shushing him until eventually he’d tired himself out from crying and fallen asleep again. The nightmares returned.

Eventually Danny stopped asking questions about his memories.

Either they were incomplete, fragments of something real that had been twisted in time, or they were wrong entirely, figments of his own active imagination. He’d never had a sister, they insisted. It was his mother, Maddie that had stayed up late some nights to help him with his homework and bake him safe, edible cookies as a reward. Tucker was a kid he knew at school, yes, but he’d moved away years ago and they hadn’t spoken in person since.

He had blue eyes, when he looked in the mirror, not green.

It was frustrating, being unable to trust himself- his own memories. If it was anything more than broken, incomplete fragments he’d have argued, insisted they were real.

But then again, he also had memories of Maddie leaning over him, scalpel in hand to cut away at his flesh. And he knew that couldn’t be true; the woman that smiled every time he came downstairs, called him sweetie and kissed him on his forehead every night, wasn’t the monster in his dreams. She couldn’t be.

So he ignored them.

He ignored the moments of instinct when Maddie or Jack went for a hug or a kiss and he flinched, ready for an attack. He ignored how he never seemed able to give a straight answer when they asked about his day, even if he hadn’t done anything interesting at all. And he ignored his nightmares, stuffing towels under his doorframe to muffle the sounds of his screams. There was no reason to keep waking up his parents like that.

But no matter how much he ignored, he compartmentalized, or he forced himself to smile, to hug back, and to spend time bonding with his parents, he never felt safe. Maddie insisted that he was, of course she did, this was his home. But even as he smiled and agreed and let her hug him again, he wanted to leave.

This time his dream wasn’t a nightmare. No scary, well lit labs with beakers and glowing buttons, or disgusting, painful flowers shoved into his mouth. Instead there was the ticking of clocks, rhythmic and constant. A gloved hand gently soothed his hair back, and Danny’s fear seemed so far away.

It was the first full night of sleep he’d had since he’d gotten “home”.

That morning he’d asked for an analogue clock. His parents had been confused, but they acquiesced easily and took him to the store to pick one out. The one he’d ended up choosing was a large ornate antique with little clockwork gears and a loud tick. He was excited to put it up in his room, right above his bed.

He slept better after that, and some of the tension that had been building in the house eased.

His dreams were still mostly nightmares, attacks by inhuman ghostly figures were the most prominent. But they didn’t leave the same bitter aftertaste, fear and uncertainty as the ones with the table, the scalpel, and the round, red goggles.

But now they were interspersed with better ones, fuzzy hugs and fields of blinding white, sitting in a garden pruning flowers as a soft, familiar voice gave him instructions, playing video games as the player character, confident and excited with a familiar presence at his back. And his favorite ones, the ones in the clock tower with the hooded figure and his soft smiles. The ones where he felt safest.

The ones that couldn’t be real, not if what his parents told him was true.

The next time they went out as a family after that Danny had wanted to go to a garden, and while at first Maddie was hesitant, Jack had insisted the great outdoors were perfect for helping him recover properly. Danny had been thrilled and hugged both of them in thanks, their answering smiles were soft and Danny had the thought that it had been some time since he’d seen those smiles reach their eyes.

Danny had a video game he apparently liked to play called Doom, and he was pretty good at it, judging by the level of his character. When he tried to message either of the two friends he had on his contact list though, the game glitched and his info got deleted. Frustrated he tried to reboot the system but the game itself had somehow gotten corrupted and there was no hope in recovery.

Just another thing that was apparently important to him that he’d destroyed or couldn’t find.

The worst was the time he woke with Maddie sitting next to him in his bed, she had a troubled look on her face and he didn’t know what it was he’d done wrong. Had he screamed in his sleep without knowing it?

“Danny honey,” she had said, looking over to him but not meeting his eyes, “do you remember what you dreamed about?”

He’d answered no, he hadn’t, which was mostly true. The only thing he really remembered about his dream was the feeling of safety and the ticking of a clock.

It took a month for Danny’s parents to feel comfortable leaving him alone in the house in order to go to work. He watched them walk out the door, fending off forehead kisses and muttered reassurances that they’d be home soon to check on him and that he should call if he needed anything, anything at all.

Once the door clicked shut however, the smile dropped off of Danny’s face and he set his eyes on the one thing he’d wanted… no, needed to do since he had that first nightmare.

He went to the basement.

The feeling of going down the stairs stumbled over a vague, blurry memory and Danny felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand. This was just to be sure, just to prove to himself that all those dreams, all those nightmares he’d been having since his parents brought him home, were just that, nightmares.

He opened the door at the bottom of the stairs, confused when there was no lock, no resistance at all. Hadn’t they said he was banned from being down here? Why wouldn’t they lock it? Even Bluebeard locked the door his wife wasn’t supposed to enter.

The basement was…

A basement.

There were no spooky ominous beakers of strange and unrecognizable fluids, no haphazard lab equipment lying around without safety devices, nothing sterile or blinking and there was certainly no large metal table to strap someone down on.

It was just a normal basement with boxes and a desk, some chairs, a couple of old pieces of random furniture and Danny let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. This meant that Maddie was right, they really were just nightmares, probably some subconscious latent fear of going home with strangers that he couldn’t remember. That was all.

So why did he feel disappointed?

The next week was full of Danny waiting for his parents to leave before exploring the house more thoroughly. More than once he’d gotten caught in a half remembered routine that didn’t actually fit with his surroundings. Like bracing for a fight every time he opened the fridge, or expecting another flight of stairs after the second floor. Once he’d even risked going outside for a walk, trying to find his school based on half remembered directions that only served to get him lost.

It was a new routine that Danny found himself thankful for.

Not that he didn’t love his parents, he did! But for some reason, when they were gone, and it was just him with his space posters and his ornate ticking clock, and the piles of modified schoolwork that was supposed to help him when it was time to reintegrate into school, he felt a lot more relaxed. More carefree.

That was why, when he’d found the picture, it had felt like his world had crashed around him.

His parents had come home to find him sitting in the middle of the basement, tears long dried, and with the picture clutched tight in his hands, crumpled now with how long it had been.

“You lied to me.” he accused once they were within earshot. He didn’t have the energy to speak much louder than a whisper, but it seemed to echo in the silence nonetheless.

“Danny-boy we can explain-”

“No!” Danny shouted, getting to his feet, “You lied to me .”

Jack flinched back and Maddie stepped in front of him, protective, as if somehow, out of the three of them Danny might be the threat. He growled.

“I trusted you to tell me the truth, I trusted you with my memories, memories that were lost to me . I had a sister! You had a daughter . She existed, she was real, she’s in this photo! Smiling! ” Danny couldn’t hold back the tears anymore, it was all too much. To know that the girl in his shattered memories, the one with the soft hugs and the floral scents, that baked him cookies and held him when he cried at night, was real. And that she was gone, erased by the people he was supposed to be able to trust.

He moved to storm past them, to go upstairs or maybe even outside and look up at the sky and try to make something of the twisting, knotted mess that was his emotions, his mind, his everything right now. But Maddie grabbed his arm before he could, tears spilling from her eyes.

“We didn’t want to hurt you Danny.” she said, voice soft and broken, “we didn’t want to give and then take away.”

She pulled him into a hug and Danny didn’t bother to struggle or try and break out of it, just let her cry into his shoulder as he stood there, waiting for his own tears to dry.

The next day Jack and Maddie left for work with more reluctance, neither one willing to leave Danny on his own again. But worry didn’t pay the bills and whatever it was they were doing at their job, it was clearly important. That was something Danny was starting to remember, all the things that were more important than him.

Danny went to the library this time, determined to start figuring things out on his own. His parents had said that his sister, Jazz, had died in the accident that had put him in a coma. They said they didn’t want to hurt him, or risk him not wanting to recover his memories if they were painful and that grief was difficult to deal with even without the head trauma and emotional conflict.

His parents said a lot of things, Danny was starting to realize. And almost none of it could be trusted to be true.

The first thing he did was look for a death certificate for his sister, Jazz Fenton. After hours of searching, reading every single name that existed in every obituary for this town in the entire month when his parents claimed the accident had happened.

But there was nothing. Nothing at all.

So next he looked up phone records. Any Tuckers or Samanthas he could find, but he couldn’t remember their last names at all, just what they looked like.

How they had been crying over him.

He didn’t know if he believed that they’d just moved away. Then again, it was becoming increasingly clear that he didn’t know what to believe, if he believed anything at all. By the time he’d gotten home it was late, and his parents were already there.

At first they didn’t believe he was just at the library “trying to catch up on stuff” but they calmed back down once he’d shown them his library card and snapped that if he couldn’t even do that much why did they bother bringing him back from the hospital at all.

Dinner had been a quiet affair.

It took another week of library visits and recurring nightmares of dissection tables and glowing ghostly figures that attacked him before Danny gave up on finding out anything about Sam or Tucker. But he still didn’t stop searching for Jazz.

There was something almost obsessive about his search for her, he just couldn’t let it go. He had to know where she was, and if his parents, against all odds, hadn’t lied to him about that ... Well that was something he’d have to come to terms with when he came to it, not before.

He started scouring the Internet for her name desperate to find something, anything on her. And eventually he did.

There was an old article, from at least half a decade ago, that had her picture under the title “Four Teens go Missing in wake of Fenton Investigation”.

Next to her were two equally familiar pictures. Sam and Tucker… and then Danny himself.

Scrolling, desperate to find something, anything to add up the memories he was getting into a clear picture, he began to read the article.

In wake of the Investigation into the Fenton‘s possible abuse, Danny Fenton (15), his sister Jazz Fenton (17), and two friends Sam Manson and Tucker Foley (15), have seemingly disappeared.

The discovery came shortly after Jack and Madeline Fenton were released on parol and allowed to return home to spend time with their children since no physical proof could be found of any alleged wrongdoings.

What could have caused their disappearances remains a mystery. The prevailing theory is that they were involved in a cult that may have demonized the Fenton parents due to their controversial occupation as “ghost hunters”. Another popular theory is that the children fled the results of the case, afraid of the alleged illegal experimentation. Other theories include kidnapping, witness protection, the possibility of murder, and tying up loose ends.

Will we ever discover the truth? It remains to be seen.

Ghost hunters …

Danny felt his stomach drop, a wave of nausea rolled through him and he had to fight off the urge to relive his lunch.

Experimentation?

Nightmares and half remembered memories started clicking into place, finally , and Danny couldn’t stand it. Why were the only answers that made sense the ones that hurt the worst?

Would it have been better if he’d just let it go? If his memories never returned at all? If he just kept living, eating homemade cookies and flinching from hugs until eventually the itch underneath his skin dulled and he could just be happy as he was.

He closed the tab.

There was no one home when he got there, and it gave him the chance to pack what little belongings he had that held any meaning to him at all. The motions were familiar and he had the faintest feeling he had done exactly this before.

Maybe he had.

He’d made it out the front door by the time his parents pulled into the drive.

There was the urge to run, to go back inside and hide and pretend he hadn’t been doing exactly what they caught him doing. But he was tired. He was so tired of feeling wrong and scared and uncertain and never knowing why.

So he held his head up as they got into the car and approached them with their hands raised, cautiously, like he was a wild animal they were afraid of spooking.

Was that what they thought he was?

“Danny, we can talk about this,” Maddie said, beseeching.

He met her eyes with his own. “Will you promise not to lie anymore? I don’t even know how old I am-”

“You’re fifteen son-” Jack interrupted, lying again.

“I was fifteen five years ago!” Danny yelled, his hand tightening into a fist, “I found the article! I read about the case! Five years ago.”

“Danno…”

Oh, he was crying. It was novel almost, Danny had thought he was too tired to cry, that there wasn’t anything more that could hurt him enough to create such a response and he didn’t quite know how to react to it.

He raised his hands awkwardly to scrub the tears away and stepped back, frightened, when Maddie tried to move closer to comfort him.

“Stay back! Stay back…” he looked at his hands, they were young hands, his reflection too, hadn’t changed from the picture in the article at all. Experiments. “What did you do to me?”

“It was an accident.” Jack said, before Maddie stopped him with a gentle hand on his arm.

“We didn’t know Danny. How could we have?” She said, keeping her distance, cautious. “We tried to fix it-”

“Fix what? ” He hissed, “you haven’t told me what happened! You haven’t told me anything!”

“You!” Maddie finally snapped, tears falling heavy down her cheeks. “We were trying to fix you… but it wasn’t working and you just kept getting sicker… weaker… we had to stop.”

It was too much for her, and she turned away, leaning into Jack’s large frame as he comforted her. “We didn’t want to lose you, Danny.” He said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You already did.”

Danny left his parents there, crying on the driveway of a house that could never have been a home. He had a clock tower to find.

[wolfstarlibrarian]

Hey Librarian!

Any modern AUs?

Oh goodness. The Librarian has gotten this ask many, many times and it’s a valid question! However, it is so broad that it’s impossible to make just one list? 

All that said, here are a few modern AUs that the Librarian loves but maybe hasn’t listed as often as the ones on their favorites list. Please know that this list is incomplete, so check out the other modern lists below the cut! 

Wolfstar Modern AUs: B side 

Ever Thus by @wolfstarting “Right, well I’d say it’s about time to put an end to this nonsense, wouldn’t you?” James nodded sagely. “You’ve obviously still got some things to chat through with him, but he will talk to you about it, Remus. He thinks the world of you, you know that. But the important thing is that you do talk because nothing’s going to get sorted if you just sit cry-wanking in your room.” The world is excruciating and enthralling in equal measure. The gang try their hardest to navigate it as real, legitimate adults.

Déjà Vu by @remus-john-lupin Sirius swears he’s seen this guy before, and he’s dying to figure it out.

A Promise by @kattlupin Remus Lupin and Sirius Black are two strangers both seeking solace in solo trips to Paris. Strangers that is, until happenstance sits them together on a plane and their solo trips turn into a romantic adventure together.

Chocolate Cake part of the Just Desserts series by @theprongsletthatlived “Yes, Remus Lupin is gorgeous, smart, funny, and hands down the best lay Sirius has ever had. Sometimes, Sirius just can’t get enough of him—of his plump mouth or the sweetness that seems to radiate out of his pores. He’ll even admit that he does prefer Remus’ company to anyone else’s ninety percent of the time. But—just because your favorite dessert is chocolate cake doesn’t mean you’ll never crave a cookie, right?” 

Lost to You Yourself by OfALaurel Sirius Black writes gay porn for a skin mag, and meets Remus Lupin, who does professional readings (audio recordings) of his fictions, and there is flirting, and courting, and love over narratives, cds, and fictionality.

Something Beautiful -orphaned account When Remus Lupin's ex talks him into a drunken tattoo mistake, he goes to his friend and co-worker Lily for help. Luckily her husband's best mate is a tattoo artist who can help with the cover up. Unfortunately for Remus, the tattoo in in a rather compromising area, and he'll have to get over his embarrassment. Luckily for him, Sirius Black is just the man for the job.

There is a Light That Never Goes Out by WolfstarGarden Sirius’ breath puffed a warm tickle around his ear. “You’re gorgeous... I want to take you out, somewhere nice, away from Prongs and Evans. Can I?” Remus opened his mouth, but the yes he had intended instead came out, “Why?”

The Barista, the Burglar, and the Sofa by SeasOfTrees This is the story of twenty-three year old Remus Lupin, an overworked graduate student and underpaid barista, who comes home one day to find an exceptionally attractive man has broken into his flat. Given the neighborhood he lives in, that isn’t a huge surprise. He is surprised, though, when the burglar comes back with a sofa. Alternatively, this is the story of how Sirius Black tries to seduce a man by slowly furnishing his flat.

here's to never growing up by @elixirsoflife A group chat documents the lives of four highly dramatic teenage boys as they navigate their A Levels. Or, like, die trying.

where are we now? by @miraxb

Sirius meets a familiar stranger while visiting Berlin. Everything is different. Everything is the same.

I Am A Mess Around You by @littlemissbennet Modern Setting AU - Remus finds out that a hot, beautiful man just moved into his building. But for some reason, every time they meet a disaster strikes and Remus makes a complete fool of himself. Why can't he act like a sensible person around this handsome young man?

Liebestraum by @quoththethestral

“Do you still have a lot of friends in the area, then?” “None,” Remus answered simply, which felt much easier than explaining at the level of detail that the question actually deserved.

Of Bookshelves and Baby Carriers by @poppunkpadfoot The customer standing in front of him is quite possibly the most beautiful man Remus has ever seen. Like, he looks like a model or something. He has long, black hair, flattened by water, and just the slightest amount of scruff on his face, and… And a baby strapped to his chest. Okay.

Cut Your Bangs part at the Introduction series by @notmycatsname "There’s something about him that catches Sirius’s eye. His voice is a little whiny, almost off-key. Sirius has heard it time and time again in the bands that Lily plays through their speakers at their apartment but it sounds more genuine, almost heart breaking, through his voice. Remus’s voice."

Saving Regulus Black by @toyhto A story in which Remus Lupin meets a dark handsome stranger and they go for a road trip to rescue one little brother who’s probably up to something bad.

We Will Fill the Cracks Together by newskyillusion  Remus works in a library and at his parents pub in a small, Welsh town. Sirius Black is doing his PhD on werewolves and comes to a small, Welsh town to do some research.

Find all the previous lists that feature wolfstar in a modern AU below!

The Librarian’s 12 Favorite Fics

Alternate Universe

Accountants + Finance

Athletes

Babysitter Remus

Baking/Bakers

Bartender

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[chilly-me-softly]

Can you do a DCL blurb? You see each other for the first time a few months after a brutal break up that was because you accused him of having no time for you and him denying it but now he misses you and regrets not treating you right. He's pretty passionate about getting you back and you've got your walls built high so its a bit of a run and chase and at the end you both make up. Thx

Dom sighs as he looks around the house that is so quiet except for the sound of the rain that has been falling incessantly since that morning. He took a shower after returning from training, grabbed something to eat and plopped down on the couch, shuddering at the thought of going outside to pass the time and maybe get wet again. He literally plays under the worst weather conditions most of the time, yet when it wasn't those ninety minutes everything was less bearable.

Usually on days like that he stayed in the house exactly as he was doing, but in addition he had you. You were there to fill his day and his mind. Even just being quiet was fine as long as he could hold you in his arms. And now he hates those days because they make him think. How he managed to ruin everything and, more importantly, how he didn't notice.

It was a period full of work, after a run of games more than positive he had managed to get a permanent place in the first eleven and was willing to work hard every single day to make the coach understand that that place had always been his. Goals flew in and out and everyone seemed to have discovered what a great talent he was.

He was the first to arrive and the last to leave, always asking the coaches what he could do to improve or his teammates to do some extra training sessions. The call to the senior national team was his next goal.

Everything was going well, it was the best time of his life until that moment. And then came the cold shower. Suddenly he had you in his house telling him that he could no longer go on like that, that you were no longer a priority for him and that you were no longer willing to feel like a spare wheel put there only when he remembered.

In the beginning he didn't want to see the reality, he thought he could juggle his career and your relationship. You had never made a big deal of it before, never even hinted at it, and he thought you just needed some time to get used to the new attention that was inevitably affecting you too. But this had not been the case.

You hadn't met since your break up - you'd only sent him a text congratulating him on his call-up to the national team - not until the day before. But that's not why he's thinking about you. Seeing you again suddenly made him realise what he had been missing in those months, what was that sense of incompleteness he felt in everything he did. It was you.

And he could see it now, how he had put himself and his career first, taking for granted that you would always support him. All the times your eyes had turned off but you kept smiling so he wouldn't see that you were disappointed when he cancelled your plans yet again. You'd always been right and he'd probably blown the best thing he'd had outside of football because he hadn't been able to figure out what he had in his hands.

Was it too late to fix things? Had you already moved on with someone else? Were you also spending hours looking at his pictures on Instagram or your photos in the gallery? Would you have wanted to talk to him? The rain showed no sign of wanting to stop, Dominic's mind kept adding questions with every passing minute creating false scenarios just for the sake of torturing him.

Making things right with you would be his next goal, he had decided at that moment. Because when he set his mind to something he would do anything to get it done and you were definitely worth it. And when he had you back by his side, because he would, he would never stop showing you how much he cared about you. He wouldn't have made the same mistake twice. He just had to be able to talk to you first.

-

"Hi. Can we talk?" he had shown up in front of your house unannounced, determined to at least take the first step for the day. Before his mind could somehow lead him to think that maybe you could be better off without him, that his train had passed, and that you were now happy with someone else.

Finally after what seems like hours, you step aside to let him in and stepping inside a sense of nostalgia makes its way inside him. There's no longer your picture at the front door, the one that always made him crack a smile as soon as he saw it and he's a little afraid to find out what other changes you've made in your life in such a short time.

"I have an appointment in a while so if you could get straight to the point..."

"With a guy?" he can't help himself, and your raised eyebrow tells him that there is a response coming that he won't like.

"None of your business" you reply in fact quite coldly crossing your arms over your chest and assuming your classic defensive posture.

"Sorry" Dom lowers his gaze for a moment, only bringing it back to you as you sigh. "What did you come here for Dom?"

"I just want to talk"

"About what?" you scratch an eyebrow in confusion.

"I figured out what went wrong between us, what I did wrong to lose you"

"Dominic"

"No" he interrupts whatever you were about to say, "please (Y/N), let me talk" you remain silent and he takes it as a sign to continue.

"It took me a while but I understood what you said that day, about how I was only thinking about training and how I gradually left you behind more and more" he studies you for a moment, taking a deep breath. "I didn't want to see it, I couldn't... I really thought I had it all in that moment. But yours was a wake up call, because I didn't really have anything. And if I had kept this up I would not only have lost you, but most likely everything else as well"

"I'm glad this story helped you" you reply not wanting to give him any satisfaction and not letting your guard down for a moment.

"I want to fight, to improve myself and for both of us" for the first time Dominic takes a step towards you and you hold out an arm forward to stop him. He kind of expected it but it still hurts.

"It's not with two words that you're going to fix this"

"I know, I know I've screwed everything up badly. But I really want to make things right between us. So just in case what's coming up is a date with a guy... well don't get too attached" he winks at you before deciding to leave, that's enough for a first time. He needs to take you gradually or he'll never get those walls down.

Anywone wants a part 2? I think I didn’t fulfill my task here but it was getting too long 🙈

Part 2

[kiame-sama]

Rewriting The Story- Yandere!Curator x Reader

*I love the dark pictures anthology game for all sorts of reasons. But like the trash I am, The Curator has drawn my attention. He is the one who collects these stories of ghosts/supernatural/hallucinations/fears and lets the player decide the ultimate fate of the characters. He always claims to stay out of it and let the player decide, but I have decided he only got to meddle in a story once in exchange for being impartial when looking at all others. So take the trash I give you!

Tell me if y'all want to get more from this vein and I'll just do a fanfic Dark Picture Anthology "series"/"game" and y'all get to make the heavy decisions.

Warnings; yandere behavior, yandere relationship, yandere tendencies, kidnapping, 50/50 rational/delusional yandere, obsessive yandere, possessive yandere, Stockholm Syndrome, character x reader, mention of reader death/revival,

~~~~~~~~

Impressive, isn't it? Just a massive room filled wall-to-wall with stories that have been gathered around the world. Tales of the Wendigos that stalk an ancient mountain. Tales of pirates and gold that lay in an empty vessel. Even tales involving continuous reincarnation of people intertwined for eternity, always finding their way back together again.

Endless stories with endless outcomes. So many fun tales that reveal people for who they are in times of danger. The true effect of decisions made and how they ripple through time.

Indeed, he was a collector of sorts, a Curator of stories others could only dream to be part of. Certainly his collection was not the most traditional, but he had truly gathered so many of them in one place.

All collectors share one thing in common when it comes to their collections, they have a favorite that they treasure above the rest. The one they always come back to time and time again. The one that sits away from the others because it is far too important to risk losing it in the rest of the collection.

His favorite? Why, that's surely the story of how he met his darling, to whom he is telling these stories to. A bit pretentious to like one's own tale, but for him, no story is better than the one he took part in. No longer a viewer of the story but an actor in it too.

He spent so long being a passive observer when collecting these stories and their many outcomes, to finally take part in one was... Exhilarating. To have his choices impact what was to come had simply been an experience he craved for. But the reward at the end for getting all the way through as not some kind of hollow closure or other less satisfying ending. The reward was finally getting someone to share in his stories, to admire all he had gathered, to continue writing his story with.

As a keeper of time, it was a fairly lonely existence. Certainly he could occasionally have an entertaining guest to his empire of tales, but there was never anyone he saw twice. To go from an isolated existence where no one knew him, to suddenly being inexplicably intertwined with the fate of someone like (y/n) was an adjustment.

Certainly he doesn't mean it in a bad way, quite the opposite actually. (Y/n)... How could he even begin to describe his darling (y/n)?

Well, to him it was as if he had an immediate connection, feeling the sense that he would deeply mourn and regret anything happening to pull he and his dearest apart. Next was how he couldn't help but notice every little reaction given, finding even the smallest response managed to put a smile on his face. He came to realize (y/n) was the only one who made him feel in such a way.

Every emotion he had rarely ever felt feeling stronger, as if he were unable to feel before as he was incomplete. He needed a partner to share his stories and true-self with. Dearest (y/n) was that partner, he knew in his very being this was so.

He knew what keeping (y/n) as his own meant and eventually (y/n) saw it too. It took... longer... than he would have liked to gain any trust back after cruelly wrenching his dear from the original story and into the new one he was writing. No sense dwelling on it now, all that mattered was that his (y/n) was safe in his protection and he would let nothing harm them ever again.

Not again, he can't see it happen again. Not even one more time. How many times he had watched people carelessly lead (y/n) to a bitter end in an already difficult story? How many times did he feel as if he had been gutted when an inevitable bad choice that was out of his control led to seeing his loved one suffer?

No. (Y/n) was safe with him. The ends justified the means no matter what anyone said.

The only story he claimed as his own to alter and interfere in as he pleased. He fought tooth and nail to be able to change it, but he doesn't regret it for a moment. It was all worth it. (Y/n) was worth it.

[adonis-koo]

the liar’s hotel

Summary: Everything between you and your boyfriend Jungkook is great until his perfect little lie falls apart along with your relationship

Pairing: Jungkook/Reader, Taehyung/Reader

Genre: angsty, angst, angst, implied one sided pining, implied unrequited feelings, it’s just generally sad, messy feelings, best friend!AU,

Word Count: 3k

~ unedited ~

Anon request; i wish you would write a fic where MC sort of lost her memory and is currently in an established relationship with Jungkook. then her actual boyfriend comes into the picture and Jungkook actually knows about him but never mentioned or hid it from mc. i've been thinking about this plot for a really long time but couldn't think of a really good backstory on how MC and Jungkook ended up being together. and i know you'd be able to give justice to this. i'm ready for the angst. 😂💜

“...You’re wearing that out?”

You paused from your spot in the mirror as you turned around, still fixing your earring as you gave your boyfriend a teasing smile, “What? It’s nothing I haven’t worn before.” Jungkook sighed as he glanced away from you, a pouty frown on his lips causing you to giggle as you straightened up.

“C’mon, you’re the one that suggested we go out with Namjoon and Seokjin.” You wrapped your arms around his waist as you set your chin in his chest, glancing up at him with a bright smile. Truth be told you were surprised when Jungkook suggested going on, he was a total nerd and introvert who would’ve preferred to stay in and watch a movie or play video games. Regardless you were happy to go out with your boyfriend.

Just the word made you wanna giggle, who would’ve thought you’d end up in love with you best friend since kindergarten. It made sense, Jungkook was with you your whole life, he was the one who hugged you and consoled you when the popular girl threw her drink on your brand new dress in middle school. He was the one who was there for you when your first boyfriend cheated on you. He’s always been there for you. 

God you were so in love with this man. Jungkook’s cheeks dusted pink and you laughed at the sight of his red ears as he gave you a rather shy smile, his hands seemed somewhat hesitant for a second before immediately wrapping around you, “I wouldn’t have if I knew you’d be wearing this dress,” Jungkook nipped at your ear making you giggle again, this time more shyly as you pressed your hands to your face. 

His hands were so much bigger then you remembered and they fit so perfectly on your waist as he playfully squeezed your sides causing you to squeak, “Maybe we should just stay home instead. I doubt you’d complain about that.” Jungkook let his lips press against your neck coaxingly, as if hoping to you’d say yes. 

You could feel your cheeks warm at his words as you pressed your hands on his chest, firmly pulling away as your lips quirked into a smile while looking up at your handsome boyfriend, “Or, how about we go out, and maybe I’ll give you something to look forward too when we get back home.” Your lips twisted into a smirk before pecking your boyfriends lips. 

Jungkook looked like his brain had did a .exe crash as you patted his cheek before turning around to look for your heels. Jungkook wasn’t always this handsome, you couldn’t help but reminiscence. At the beginning of highschool he had an awkward bowl cut that you’d always make fun of him for looking like a coconut head and he hadn’t quite grown into his long limbs. 

Gangly and awkward, that was Jeon Jungkook for a long time. You weren’t sure when he grew up, when he suddenly became not so awkward and a few years later and a hair cut and now he was the epitome of handsome. But it never went to his head no matter how many girls had chased him now in college. Quiet and introverted, your bestfriend who you were lucky to call your boyfriend. 

If there was one regret you had, it was not being able to fully remember how your romantic relationship with Jungkook formed, but like always when you woke up in the back of his car, his beautiful doe eyes were panicked and wide, desperately searching your figure. 

You didn’t even remember the nasty fall you had that caused the amnesia, but it didn’t matter now, you both were together and that’s what mattered. Your memories of Jungkook and your life were spotted at best. You could recall being depressed at prom by yourself and Jungkook offering to dance with you. 

But you couldn’t remember the time in third grade when Jungkook convinced you to try and eat the green glitter that smelt like apples. You couldn’t help but feel somewhat incomplete, in wasn’t just your memories of Jungkook that hadn’t recovered, but other moments in your life revolving around your friends and family. 

Jungkook would always hug you tight and kiss your head telling you that it didn’t make you less of a person and that they’d eventually come back. You truly didn’t deserve his love some days. After putting on your shoes you both left and headed for the nightclub. 

Just as you anticipated on a saturday night the club was packed but you and Jungkook managed to get in. His body was closer to yours then necessary, his gaze sharp and hawk like to any guys that were potentially staring at you. It made you both smile and roll your eyes, looking back, he did always seem protective over you. Even when it didn’t make sense at the time. 

Finding Seokjin and Namjoon you waved them over as you and Jungkook sat down at a table, “Oh god it’s busy tonight!” You remarked as they both sat down, Jungkook coolly sitting beside you, an arm wrapped around your shoulders as you smiled, “It’s good to finally meet you guys! Jungkook is always talking about you both.” 

“Ditto, we’ve heard all about you,” Namjoon replied, a somewhat teasing smile quirked on his lips causing Jungkook’s face to flush as he shot him an embarrassed glare, “It’s good to match a face to a name!” 

What you hadn’t expected was your bestfriend to have his own set of friends, you supposed it was expected, you and Jungkook weren’t as close anymore now that you were in college but now that you were together, you were excited to be more apart of his inner life again. 

Even moreso you were excited that Jungkook shared the same sentiment. You were closer together now then you’d ever been before. It felt like your life was finally falling into place. You were happy with your major, you were working, you had the perfect boyfriend who just so happened to be your best friend. Life was great and every day you spent together you fell for him just a little bit more. 

The night spent with his friends was a blast, Jungkook eventually relaxed once you all had a drink together and that bright bunny smile of his showed up with that cute dimple on his cheek and nose scrunch. Most importantly you loved when that smile was on you. 

As if he was looking at his whole world, it made your stomach all mushy and filled with butterflies. Namjoon and Seokin eventually parted ways with you both as they had class in the morning that they couldn’t afford to miss so you were left alone with Jungkook. Not that you minded of course. 

Just being out in public with him, even in a setting like this where music blared and people were packed together. You snuggled in close to him as you let your head rest against his shoulder with a small smile, “Tonight’s been fun.” 

You couldn’t complain one bit, it had been a fun evening with Jungkook and his friends, but you wouldn’t lie you were getting tired and it was getting late, “Hey I’m gonna use the bathroom, you wanna head out afterwards?” You sat up a little straighter to look at Jungkook. 

His expression was relaxed, soft even, his hand that had been wrapped around you was tenderly stroking through your hair, looking at you as if you were his whole world, as if he was looking at the love of his life, “I love you so much baby, you know that right?”

You sighed as your lips tugged into a giddy smile, your stomach always doing flips whenever he said those little words to you, rubbing your face shyly you mumbled, “Of course I know that. Why do you always have to act like I’m going to leave you when you say it?” 

“I’m not...!” You glanced up in somewhat surprise at the way Jungkook’s tone jumped a little, as if semi guarded before he cleared his throat, sighing as he relaxed once more, somewhat hesitant as he mumured, “I just...I’ve loved you for so long. I still can’t believe you’re mine.” He whispered in your ear, a bunny grin widening on his lips as he squeezed your sides making you squeak, “Go use the bathroom. We can get some takeout on the way home, sound good?” 

“Amazing,” You groaned as you stood up, stretching as you yawned, “I’m starving. I’m holding you too it Koo.” Jungkook leaned his head against his arm as you winked at him making him smile softly as he shook his head. You made your way to the bathroom before fixing your skirt in the mirror. 

It was nearly eleven at night and while you could stay later there was nothing more you liked then the idea of getting cuddled up to Jungkook with some food and a movie before bed. You smiled at the idea as you washed your hands. 

Tugging on your dress you made your way out of the bathroom, scanning over the crowd for Jungkook before making your way back to where your table was supposed to be. The later it was getting the busier this place was though, trying to cram through the crowd had been more difficult then you anticipated. 

Without meaning too you completely smacked into a hard chest that nearly sent you fumbling as you gasped, “Oh my god! Sorry! I am so sorry!” The man managed to keep you steady as you heard him laugh. 

“No it’s ok-...” He paused mid sentence as you pulled a little bit away from him to look up at the man, his pupils widened and his mouth gaped, his grip on you suddenly tightening as remorse washed over his features, “Oh my god! Y/n! Baby I’ve been so worried about about!” 

You squeaked at his strong grip suddenly pulling you into a hug, burying his nose into the crook of your neck as you scrambled to try and push him away, “Um....! I-I’m sorry but I think you have the wrong person!” 

“Y/n, please! Are you still mad at me,” He pulled away from you, gently cupping your cheeks as you swallowed thickly, his thick brows pinched together in worry as he pressed his forehead against your, “Please, come home. I’ve been looking for you everywhere. We can work things out. I know you were mad but please-” 

“Y/n! Baby are you ready to go-” Jungkook paused as you turned to face him, his face looked pale before he suddenly glared, not at you but the man you was previously grabbed onto you, “We’re going.” Jungkook grabbed your arm pulling you away from him. 

“Jungkook? What the fuck!” He hissed making you pause as Jungkook tried to tug you along, “How could you do this to me!? You said you hadn’t heard from Y/n in ages! Y-you’ve been what!? Hiding her? Y/n please, let’s go.” 

You felt confusion wash over you as Jungkook grabbed your arm once more, this time pleading as he held your other hand, “Baby please, just ignore him, I’ll explain everything when we get home okay?” 

“Baby!?” The other guy growled, his fists curling as he snapped, ‘That’s MY girlfriend! What the fuck do you think you’re doing calling my girlfriend baby and acting like you’re her boyfriend when you’re not!” 

“Jungkook...what’s going on?” You mumbled, glancing between Jungkook who was glaring hard daggers at the guy before he sneered, “Taehyung, shut the fuck up. Don’t act like you ever loved her anyways. She is better off without you anyways, have a nice life but she won’t be with you in it.” 

You gasped as Taehyung grabbed you, pulling you close, “Y/n what the hell!? I...I thought you loved me. You’re seriously going out with this loser now? Come on babygirl, tell me he’s lying. It’s always been us.” 

“I...I’m...I’m sorry but I don’t know you...!” You pushed away from him, not liking his harsh touch on your skin and you didn’t understand the need in his eyes as they dilated, “Jungkook can we please go...!” You grabbed his hand, Jungkook’s chest puffing a little as he stood in front of you. 

“Taehyung, stay the fuck out of my business.” Those were his last words hissed at Taehyung before lacing his fingers in yours and leading you through the crowd. The room was becoming suffocated and hard to breath....Taehyung...why did that name sound so familiar?

It was like it was on the tip of your tongue, but no matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t think of anything besides your one fresh memory of the man who...Who...You suddenly stopped once you both made it outside, the air was cool against your skin and much needed as you yanked out of Jungkook’s grip, “Jungkook who- who was that! Why....why did he say he was my boyfriend!” 

Jungkook whirled around, those beautiful doe eyes of his pleading as he grabbed your hands, “Look...I...I can explain everything just please. Y/n can we go home first?” His expression only made you more irritable as you yanked away from him. 

“No...! No! I need to know, now! What are you not telling me! Who the hell is he!?” You glanced at him, lips parted and brows furrowed, feeling warier by the moment at your...Boyfriend...or at least that’s who you thought he was... 

Jungkook stepped closer to you, his eyes looking glossed as he held out his hand, ‘Y/n...please...” 

You couldn’t stop the mirthless laugh from escaping you as you ran a hand through your hair as you glanced away from him, “Were we ever in a relationship!? W-why can’t I remember him? Jungkook I need answers.” You glared at him harshly, feeling tears begin to well in your eyes. 

Jungkook’s lips parted as they trembled before hanging his head in shame, closing his eyes as he felt the first tear escape. He knew this was going to happen, he knew it was only a matter of time. He just wished he hadn’t taken what time he had with you for granted, “...We weren’t together but I always did love you Y/n.” He glanced up meekly, his tears dripping down his face. 

His gaze was met with your own tear stricken face, the first sob coming from you as you covered your mouth, “You lied to me?” This all started when you woke up in Jungkook’s car, his jacket around you. You...you couldn’t remember why you had been outside on that rainy day, you didn’t remember what had happened earlier that day. You 

Just Jungkook’s concerned face, the old motel room and the dim lights that cast over his features, the way he cupped your cheeks before letting his lips press against yours in a heat of the moment, telling you how worried he was about you and how you could catch a cold. Had you gotten some form of amnesia. Were you walking in the rain that day because of....that man...Taehyung, your real boyfriend. 

“Please Y/n,” Jungkook reached out, grabbing your arms before you could pull away, his hands desperately cupping your cheeks as he pushed the tears away, “It wasn’t all a lie. I still love you, I’ve always loved you. Please, you have to understand. You need to understand. He- he wasn’t good for you!” 

Your eyes closed again as you let out a sniffle, tears trickling down your cheeks as you tried to push away his touch, it was so warm though and his eyes were blurred with tears that pained you despite this being his own fault, “You lied! You- you, you said we were in a relationship when we weren’t! You told me we had a falling out that day! How many memories have you lied about!? Jungkook I’ve had a boyfriend looking for me for how long? Six months!? How could you lie to me!? I thought...” You choked as you closed your eyes, shaking your head, Jungkook’s hands frantically pushing away tears, before pushing your hair from your face, “I thought this was real.” 

Jungkook’s face was filled with absolute pain and remorse as he let his forehead rest against yours, tears trickling off that adorable button nose of his you used to nudge with your own, “It is real baby please. I still love you, god please. I’ve loved you since we were kids Y/n. I only did what I- I thought was best. I thought if you just gave me a chance-”

“You lied about half of my life!” You scoffed in disbelief, every word he spoke was like another blow to your heart as you finally pushed him away from you, running a hand through your hair as you wiped the tears that continued to trickle down your face, “About our life Jungkook. I don’t care what the reason for it was. You should’ve been honest with me! If you loved me that much you- you should’ve told me the truth!” 

Jungkook’s lips parted as he stood there helplessly, tears trickling down his cheeks before he lowered his gaze, he deserved this. He did lie to you. It didn’t matter what excuse he had you were right, “I’m sorry Y/n. Just, please give me a chance. I can make this right. I won’t lie anymore. I-I’ll do anything please. I’ve just got you, I don’t want to lose you. Please.” Jungkook would get on his knee’s if he had too, he’d rot on this ground for all eternity if he had too. Anything to get you back. 

You shook your head as you pressed your hands to your face, “I...I need to time. I need to see Taehyung, I need to remember again.” 

“No! Y/n please!” Jungkook scrambled closer to you, pulling you into a hug, his arms locked around you as he buried into your hair, “Please, don’t go back to him! I need you, It’s always been you. God, baby please. I know I’ve fucked up, but please don’t go back in there, we- I can fix this.” Jungkook relented, you could feel your hair becoming wet with tears, fear gripping him just as much as he held you. Afraid that if he let go, it would be the last time he’d ever get to hold you. 

“I’m sorry Jungkook.” You pulled away from him, distancing yourself from him as you sucked in a harsh breath, tears strained your cheeks as you shook your head, “But I need to figure things out on my own.” You didn’t give him a chance to reply. Turning around you opened the door to the club, feeling like you just ripped out your own heart. But you needed the truth, you needed all over it without Jungkook’s influence. 

You couldn’t tell what was your memories and what were his lies. And you fell for it. Were your feelings for him real? They felt like it. 

How could you fall in love with liar? 

[closedcoffins]

❝  i never realized how much i needed you until you were the one person who wasn’t there.  ❞ ( iorveth for cahir post-stygga in The Verse bc i'm emo im so emo )

Cahir understands the feeling well.

It should have been joyful---or at the very least nostalgic---to spend time in a culture at least halfway familiar to him. He hasn't been with Iorveth for very long, not long enough to learn Elder Speech properly or shoot an arrow with quite the deadly precision the elves can shoot with. Not long enough to gain the trust of absolutely everyone in Iorveth's unit, even if he has Iorveth's.

Not nearly so long that he should be considering the Scoia'tael a home, and yet.

He'll think fondly of home and see acres of land all for him to roam on horseback or on walks with his brother. Grand architecture and beautifully decorated halls filled with ancestors whose names he has known since before he could speak them. Hunting with his father, secret presents given behind his mother's back as rewards for good behavior. Darn Dyffra, on a perfect sunny day, picturesque in such a way that Cahir could put Nilfgaard's occupation behind him the way many might not have been able to.

But then he begins to think of forests. Of elves, of Iorveth. Of the beautiful sound of a flute playing, time spent by a river fishing and talking. Lessons in Elder Speech that had just barely begun to get stricter, a stern voice reminding him of exact pronunciation. Games of dice, and fighting, and the spirit surrounding him of a cause he wonders if he will one day be a part of. Despair and anger and grief, and how fortunate Cahir is to feel those things at all. A home that he never thought he would have.

In some ways, it was nice. None of the company he had been dropped off with had been unpleasant, save for the Witcher, whose harsh guardedness did not frighten him into silence nearly as much as it would have had Cahir not known Iorveth to be the same way towards him. They had been perfectly friendly, as a matter of fact.

But they hadn't been Iorveth. They would sneak off to breakfast together when Cahir would turn his back so as to not make him feel excluded, and Cahir would never know how to tell them that he'd feel alien in this place either way because all he'd be thinking about was Iorveth, was conversations by the river. He'd never felt such an intense longing before, never missed someone so much.

"I as well," Cahir begins, then finds himself unable to articulate the intense madness of his thoughts in a way that satisfies him fully. There's much he wants to say, but he doesn't possess the mind of a poet. "Some part of me feared that I would realize that I was missing something out here. That I would spend time in Toussaint and understand that I was meant to be among humans rather than at your side."

A fleeting thought, dismissed the moment he had arrived. But one that had happened nonetheless. Cahir turns to look at Iorveth, routine of fishing momentarily disrupted just to speak. "I was wrong. I was glad to be wrong. I accomplished what I set out to do, but I felt as though there was a part of me that I had left behind with you. It was hollow."

He doesn't say incomplete. Avoids the word deliberately, in fact. No, he had not been incomplete when he'd met Iorveth. There was never, as they describe it in the stories, undeniably a part of himself that was missing. But after spending time here and speaking with Iorveth, Cahir is certain that he has given a tangible piece of himself to the elf who had once regarded him with disgust and distrust. He wouldn't feel so strongly about leaving otherwise. He had placed his heart gently in Iorveth's hands---whether it was originally a display of trust or affection, Cahir does not know. It matters little.

"Is that strange? We haven't known eachother all that long." And it had seemed at first---this, Cahir does not say aloud, though wonders to himself if Iorveth thinks so too---that the two of them were separated by a vast universe. The bridge that crossed the gap had formed quickly, but strong, taking Cahir entirely by surprise. "Yet I missed you. I would think to turn to my side and speak to you, only you were not there. Is that strange?"

Cahir returns to looking at the delightfully peaceful flowing water of the river. It would be far worse to look at were Iorveth not looking alongside him.

"I am sorry for saying it suddenly," Cahir begins, "But I love you, I think. I know, I should say. I thought about that often too."

the yearning. / accepting.

[nuptia]

AN  INCOMPLETE  LIST  OF  THEMES  AND  MOTIFS  THAT  RELATE  TO  WREN’S  NARRATIVE.

NOTE:  these  themes  relate  to  the  first  arc  of  her  story,   which  is  where  the  majority  of  wren’s  threads  will  be  placed  in  order  to  keep  a  forward  momentum  on  this  blog   (   and  to  make  her  narrative  more  manageable  to  me   ).   her  themes  are  likely  to  develop  as  she  does,   but  i  want  to  spend  a  little  time  talking  about  certain  things  that  will  reoccur  on  this  blog.

HUNGER  /   GREED   /   TO  DEVOUR       (      tw  for  food  in  this  specific  section,   please  skip  forward  if  these  topics  disturb  you       ).

LYRICAL  THEMES:       at  seventeen  i  started  to  starve  myself      /       i  thought  that  love  was  a  kind  of  emptiness       /       and  at  least  then  i  understood  the  hunger  that  i  felt      /      and  i  didn’t  have  to  call  it  loneliness.       [       hunger  by  florence  +  the  machine       ].

GENSIS:       elijah  controlled  every  aspect  of  wren’s  life  and  this  specific  aspect  of  trauma  manifests  in  wren’s  relationship  with  food.   he used  it  as  a  punishment,   he  used  it  as  a  reward,   he  used  it  merely  to  show  he  had  control       ---      wren  would  define  her  relationship  with  him  as  one  of  constant  hunger       (       both  of  her  own  body,    but  the  way  he  devoured  her,    as  well   :       that  fact  she  was  literally  a  void  around  him  waiting  to  be  filled  as  he  ate  her  whole       ).

POST - ELIJAH:     she  gorges  herself  for  weeks  after  she’s  killed  elijah,   eager  to  take  back  some  semblance  of  control,   desperate  to  fill  some  sort  of  empty  pit  inside  of  her.   she  feels  constantly  sick  and  heavy  over  it,   but  lashes  out  when  maria  tries  to  get  her  to  stop.    EVENTUALLY,   SHE  LEARNS  THAT  CONTROL  IS  NOT  ABOUT  DEVOURING  EVERYTHING   :        it’s  about  getting  the  choice  of  when  you  devour  and  how  much       (       but  she  won’t  ever  lose  that  greedy  pit  inside  of  her  that  demands  more,  more,  more       ).

A  SIDE  -  NOTE,   DEVOURING  GODHOOD:       to  wren,   elijah  is  and  always  will  be  a  god.   a  vengeful  one,   but  she  can’t  fathom  a  mortal  holding  so  much  power  within  them.    she  aches  to  eat  him  whole  and  take  whatever  godhood  he  has,   to  become  godly  herself       ---       this  is  what  she  imagines  full  control  to  feel  like,   eating  god  to  become  a  god.

FUTURE  MANIFESTATIONS:       i  am  hoping  to  later  explore  the  concept  of  fullness  and  the  overflowing  cup,   and  how  this  relates  both  to  pregnancy,   motherhood,   and  found  families. 

PREY  ANIMALS       (       featuring  most  prominently   :       gazelles,   does,   and  bunnies       ).

LITERARY  THEMES:       all  the  world  will  be  your  enemy,   prince  with  a  thousand  enemes,   and  whenever  they  catch  you,   they  will  kill  you.   but  first  they  must  catch  you,   digger,   listener,   runner,   prince  with  the  swift  warning.   be  cunning  and  full  of  tricks  and  your  people  shall  never  be  destroyed       [       watership  down  by  richard  adams       ].

GAZELLES:       agility,   alertness,   and  grace.   apt  metaphors  for  wren  and  her  body.    it  should  be  noted  that  wren  remains  the  opposite  of  clumsiness       ;       she  is  consciously  and  constantly  aware  of  her  body.   every  inch  of  it   :       she  can  check  for  wounds  with  removing  clothes,   every  part  of  her  known  and  felt  to  the  deepest  degree.    if  she  fumbled  or  messed  up  around  elijah,   she  was  punished       ---       she  protects  herself  against  this  by  making  sure  her  body  is  under  her  control  constantly.

DOES:       nature  that  cannot  be  subdued  and  adaptability.    does  were  her  mother’s  favourite  animal       (      and  as  her  mother  had  powers  relating  to  nature,    you  can  imagine  why       ).       does  symbolise,   for  her,     elijah’s  inability  to  snuff  her  out       ---       he  forced  her  into  a  world  of  harsh  white  lines,   apartment  complexes,   a  city  that  bustles.     but  she  remained  unsubdued,    growing  against  his  harshness  like  a  tangled  thorn. 

BUNNIES:       fear  and  creativity.   wren  is  a  woman  in  the  run.   it’s  the  most  integral  part  of  her  story       ---      she  is  escaping  unjust  punishment  and  can  only  do  so  by  the  act  of  fleeing       (      which  requires  great  creativity  just  to  stay  alive,     but  also  it  means  she  is  constantly  in  a  state  of  fear       ).      she  hops  between  words  in  a  very  chaotic  way  and  she’s  rarely  static.    she  exists  in  constant  motion,    just  like  a  bunny,    filled  with  fear  and  creative  because  of  it.

FUTURE  MANIFESTATIONS:       i  can’t  imagine  that  wren  would  ever  become  a  predatory  animal,    but  i  would  like  if  she  became  associated  with  bird  imagery       ---      it  would  be  quite  befitting,   given  her  name,    and  i  think  it  would  represent  the  claiming  of  freedom  she’s  been  denied.

A  TURNED  BACK       (       representing  an  inability  to  understand  your  own  face  and  unknowing  yourself  so  deeply  that  you  begin  to  know  yourself  all  over  again       ).

LITERARY  THEMES:       when  i  imagine  myself       /        i  am  always  leaving       /       i  couldn’t  drawn  my  own  face  if  god  asked       [       the  vault  by  andres  crepas       ].

DISASSOCIATION:       wren  has  no  idea  who  she  is       ---        she  has  been  nothing  but  a  belonging  for  so  long  that  she  isn’t  sure  there’s  much  left  of  her       (      to  draw  on  earlier  themes,    she  must  devour  to  become  something  at  all,   to  fill  herself  up  instead  of  remaining  empty       ).   she  plays  a  little  game  with  herself  in  bathroom  mirrors  where  she  holds  up  her  finger  and  says       ‘this  is  my  finger  and  it  is  pretty’       to  try  to  get  a  better  understanding  of  her  body.   everything  about  this  is  made  so  much  worse  by  the  fact  she  is  unendingly  on  the  run.   she  is  always  turned,   she  is  always  running,    so  how  could  she  possibly  stop  to  know  her  own  face?

FUTURE  MANIFESTATIONS:       i  have  drawn  my  own  face       ---       god  didn’t  have  to  ask      (     i  did  it  all  myself       ).   i  want  her  to  associate  

NATURE       (       what  is  motherhood?   i  want  to  become  a  tree      ).

LITERARY  THEMES:       not  that  i  want  to  be  a  god  or  a  hero       /       just  to  change  into  a  tree,   grow  for  ages,   not  hurt  anyone       [       notes  by  czeslaw  miloz       ].

NATURE  AS  MOTHERHOOD:       wren’s  earliest  memory  is  planting  tomato  seeds  with  her  mother.    she  remembers  her  mother’s  dirt  -  touched  fingers  over  her  own,      her  gentle  voice  telling  her  the  right  way  to  do  it.    instruction  hadn’t  felt  like  punishment  then   :        it  had  been  an  act  of  care  to  her.    her  childhood  home  had  been  filled  with  flowers  and  plants,    her  mother  ensuring  that  nothing  ever  died.    the  house  was  ever  -  alive,    a  paradise  of  flowers,    home  to  nature  itself       (       and  her  mother  was  the  eternal  creator  of  it  all       ).     

DISASSOCIATION  OF  NATURE:       in  contrast,     elijah  is  all  cities  -  and  -  skylines.    she  hasn’t  touched  dirt  in  a  long  time  after  she  entered  her  relationship  with  him.    he  makes  sure  she’s  clean  and  shiny,    which  means  she  doesn’t  get  to  be  around  nature  anymore.   the  plants  are  fake.    while  on  the  run,   wren  is  surrounded  by  dust  and  grime,    motel  rooms  with  dying  plants,     cars  fuming  up  the  world,     the  unnatural  taste  of  bullets.     she  thinks  of  herself  in  terms  of  failed  motherhood  because  a  mother  to  her  has  always  been  best  represented  by  a  tree.

TREEHOOD:       god,   the  tree  is  the  wren  symbol.   she  wants  to  dig  her  roots  in  deep  and  have  something  close  to  a  home,    something  stable  and  real.     it  is  in  direct  contrast  to  her  constantly  on  the  run,    a  girl  trapped  in  motion.    she  wants  to  be  static.    there’s  also  a  lot  here  to  do  with  transforming  and  getting  to  be  something  else   :      she  might  not  know  who  she  is,    but  she  knows  who  trees  are,    and  that  means  a  lot  to  her.

FUTURE  MANIFESTATIONS:      idk  i  personally  think  that  she  should  get  to  be  a  tree  if  i’m  being  honest  with  you.   but,   also,   i  want  her  to  relate  more  to  nature  and  for  the  majority  of  her  motifs  to  be  nature  -  themed.   i  think  her  disassociation  from  nature  is  perhaps  the  most  impactful  thing  that’s  happened  to  her  because  of  her  it  represents  the  failing  relationship  between  her  and  her  mother.  i  would  like  to  replace  her  tree  motfit  with  a  bird  motif:       desperation  for  stability  vs  utter  freedom.

PERSEPHONE  AND  DEMETER       (       the  myth  that  never  needed  hades     ).

THE MYTH:      tumblr  has  very  much  romanticized  persephone/hades  which  i  don’t  care  about  but  i  like  the  story  more  when  it  concerns  the  trauma  of  a  mother-daughter  relationship.    demeter  had  her  child  ripped  from  her  and  demanded  that  the  gods  give  her  back       ---       all  they  could  get  for  her  were  six  months  with  her  child.    let’s  split  this  up  better  into  wren’s  childhood  and  adulthood.    before  elijah,   wren  was  utterly  her  mother’s.     afterwards,    she  was  utterly  elijah’s.    there  was  never  any  room  for  wren  to  be  herself.   she  misses  her  mother  in  that  tender  way  that  you  love  the  seasons  and  a  ripe  harvest   :       the  hope  of  return  seems  dull  and  far  -  away,    but  wren  still  longs  for  it.

FUTURE  MANIFESTATIONS:       escape  hades  and  return  to  demeter.    she  wants  to  feel  her  mother’s  arms  around  her  again.    she  wants  to  become  demeter  and  give  her  child  daisies  and  laughter  and  a  man  who  isn’t  hell  itself.

[op-peccatori]

The MLQC Boys and Sleeping/Bedtime Habits (nsfw-ish)

more ‘quick thoughts’ lmao...I can go on and on when it comes to these men. Literally had to step away from the keyboard.

Rating: Mature

Tags/Warnings: mentions of/implies sexy times but nothing too explicit, this wasn’t meant to be so long wtf, unedited atm

song of the moment: little things by one direction 

Kiro: 

Most open to being the little spoon! Although he likes curling around you, likes to feel like he can protect you from anything, he also enjoys feeling your arms curled around him. You’re the treasure, and he’s the dragon guarding his hoard. Under his bright exterior is a fierce love, resolute and undying, which most people will never get to see.

This is something he’s told you before, and he hopes he’s done a good job conveying it—to him, you’re home. Climbing into bed with you after a long day is the only good way to end that day. He loves singing to you, whether it’s a soft ballad or a completely made up silly song. You can’t count on hand the number of times you’ve giggled over the songs you two have created, silly whispers in the dark, fingers stroking warm skin. Some nights are quiet, with your bodies doing the talking, pressing your love into each other’s skin, smiling into soft kisses. It’s like basking in your own personal sunshine, the warmth seeping into your very bones, leaving you with only hope and the belief that everything will be okay.

He’s your partner in crime. Midnight snacking, gaming and dance parties until you collapse. 

Nights spent away from you are spent video calling you, singing to you onscreen, showing you any new foods he’s tried. He tries to keep days away from you at a minimum, and though he tries really hard to control that feeling of sullenness and unease when he’s not with you, the fact of the matter is that his day is just incomplete if he doesn’t get to talk to you or see your face. 

It’s not surprising to wake up with his face buried in your stomach, or with his leg curled over you. Kiro truly treats you like his own beloved stuffed toy, and you can’t help but melt in his warm embrace as you both watch a movie. Neither of you is very good with horror movies, but watching them together as you cuddle in fear is better. You’re always stronger together, after all. Both of you have a hard time going to sleep after, choosing to play games to distract yourselves. 

However, if you do happen to be good with horror, prepare yourself for an armful of Kiro, and to be the big spoon that night. 

Lucien: 

He doesn’t glue himself to you. Sometimes, he’s content to face you and watch you drift into sleep, or run his fingers through your hair until you sleepily cuddle closer to him. You grow bolder with your requests for him to read to you, his voice always soothing your stressed-out mind; nothing delights him more than seeing you inch closer to him even in your sleep, although he’s aware that it’s probably just due to his body heat. 

He’s a movie buff, and you love listening to his interpretations of the plots, and the dialogue. He’s not a snob about his choices, he’ll watch anything. He does enjoy watching the LOTR movies, which never fail to–eventually–put you to sleep no matter how big a fan you are. 

If he does fall asleep next to you, you might wake up with his hand still tangled in your hair, or laced with yours. Just a little contact with you feels grounding to him. It’s enough to calm the raging waters beneath his skin, to fill him with contentment. You love waking him up with butterfly kisses, because you know what he’ll do, and you pretend to be surprised every single time–when his lips curl up a little before his eyes have even opened, and sneaky fingers wrap around your waist so he can give you a proper good morning kiss. 

You’ve been embarrassed about him watching you sleep quite often, but he doesn’t know how to explain it to you–how human it makes him feel. When it’s just you two in bed, he’s just a man in bed with the love of his life. He doesn’t remember ever having someone let their guard down around him so fully, and sleep without a care in the world. Every incoherent word you mumble, every little twitch, it’s seared into his memory. It actually makes him want to try harder and actually sleep, to join you in that other mystical world. 

For the longest time, he looked forward to waking up next to you, just to see what he’ll wake up to. Will you be hanging off the edge of the bed? Will your face be burrowed into his armpit? It’s all very exciting for him, even if it makes little sense. For someone who’s delved into things most people can’t possibly comprehend, these are such tiny things. But they mean the world to him, and he could spend the rest of his life noting them down in his head. 

Lucien craves intimacy, so badly that he has to rein it in, lest he scares you away. Especially when you both give into your desires and he loses himself in your skin–it shows in his eyes. You’re rendered speechless when you lock eyes with him, feeling so completely exposed as if he’s peering into your very soul. And he feels the same, because his eyes are where his emotions exhibit themselves, but only to you. It’s like looking into an unexplored yet inviting abyss, terrifying yet exhilarating, with promises of discovering things about yourself you couldn’t have even imagined. 

Initially, it’s always Lucien who’s pulling you into his arms, taking over, sheltering you. When you finally convince him to place his head on your lap, carding your fingers through his hair, it’s as if he’s discovered something new. He enjoys pressing his face into your stomach during afternoon naps, shedding his armour and weapons for a brief respite. He feels like he could shatter into a million little pieces when you trace his features with curious fingertips until you’ve had your fill, which is never. He doesn’t quite know how to cope with the fact that you’re just as crazy about him as he is about you. On the surface, he’s thrilled. But with Lucien, you need to look deeper, and you’ll see the disbelief, the terror, the possessiveness, the vulnerability that comes with loving someone so deeply.

Once he’s had a taste, Lucien will do everything in his power to spend every night with you. He loathes sleeping alone, in a cold bed, and only feels better when he receives a selfie of you wrapped up in his shirt. If you just happen to give him a glimpse of bare skin, revealing the lack of clothing underneath, he’s calling you right away. He loves instructing you over the phone and receiving your own breathless demands. He loves hearing your breath even out as you fall asleep after, finally settling his heart down. 

Gavin:

The first time you fell asleep next to Gavin, he couldn’t fall asleep the entire night. His nerves were on fire, and he was so afraid of making the slightest of movements and waking you up. It took a while for him to lift his eyes to your face. He felt a little guilty about it, but he couldn’t look away. You looked so beautiful even in your sleep, and it robbed him of all tiredness. He isn’t used to sleeping next to someone. This isn’t about taking charge and looking out for you. This is about relaxing. 

He jolts if you mumble anything in your sleep, straining his ears to catch the words. Gavin takes time to really get used to you sleeping in his bed. The girl of his dreams (teenage and adult) tossing an arm over him, nuzzling his chest. The first few times, it’s a shame you’re not awake to witness the way he smiles. An arm thrown over his face to hide his burning cheeks, but it doesn’t help with the happiness swelling in his heart. He feels incredibly full with it. 

Despite his shy smiles, romance comes to him rather easily. He doesn’t even realise it but he makes you feel so loved with just a few simple actions, you only wish he could accept the same from you. You have to bulldoze past his protests that ‘he’s fine’, massaging his sore feet or back–you get your reward in his snores, in his relaxed limbs, in the automatic way he pulls you into him when you settle next to him. 

He loves hearing about your day. You can go on and on, thinking he’s probably tuned out, but he’s paying attention to every word that comes out of your mouth. Slowly, he starts sharing what he can of his days too. At first, he tries to hide the dangerous things, but when you insist on it, he shares–with as little detail as possible. It’s an important step for him, learning to share his troubles, his needs, his desires. He’s never been one for naps, but can’t help it when you curl into him. You feel so incredibly loved, nearly worshipped, and you’re warm with it. What you have to do is show him how important he is. Hold him close, tell him as many times as it takes (even if it’s forever) that he is loved, that he’s in your heart. Be there for him as he heals, as he comes to accept his own value. All he needs is for you to love him.

He doesn’t know how to ask for sex, afraid of pushing your boundaries or pressuring you. The day he slips a hand below your shirt, stroking soft skin, you nearly derail the attempt by beaming at him in absolute joy. It’s fixed by curling your leg over his hip and your slipping fingers into his hair, showing him how much you like it. 

He doesn’t watch TV. But watching something with you, watching you react to whatever’s going on is amusing. To your delight, he does end up liking Brooklyn Nine-Nine quite a bit. It’s fascinating to watch him laugh softly, amber eyes shining with mirth–until he notices you staring and blushes. Tell him how cute he looks when he’s embarrassed and he might stop breathing. 

Victor: 

It might take you both a while to really settle into this intimate space. Victor is such a private man, and his bed is the deepest part of his fortress–he has his own sleeping habits, and you’re not sure if you should press. You’re not sure if he likes his space in bed. At the time same, Victor is agonising over whether or not it’s okay to just pull you close and bury his head in your fair. He does eventually notice you inching closer, waiting for him to react, until there’s barely a few inches between you. A whisper from you about the cold will have him suppressing a smile as he winds an arm around you. 

It doesn’t matter if the temperature in the room is actually perfect–he keeps you close. When he wakes up in the morning to find himself curled around you, his front to your back, he decides that from now on, this is how it’s going to be. He loves spooning you but will never admit it, always feigning ignorance when you wake up with a snuggly Victor, even though you had gone to sleep in completely different positions. 

He’s a man of action, of never wasting time, but Victor can actually spend the entire day in bed with you, doing absolutely nothing. It’s so cosy he has a hard time leaving the little nest. You’ve spent countless Sundays wrapped in blankets, blowing on hot cocoa, watching the cheesiest rom coms you can find. Victor likes movies with intelligent plots, but what made you fall a little harder for him was discovering all the rom coms suggested for him. He refused to comment on it, scoffed when you said you wanted to watch something romantic but you will never forget the sight of a misty-eyed Victor refusing to look at you after an emotional scene. 

His expression when you said you wanted to watch The Time Traveller’s Wife had been priceless. 

He has a strict diet and routine, but with your corrupting and persuasive ways, you do manage to talk him into midnight snacking–occasionally. He loves arguing with you over characters’ actions and thought processes, always interested in knowing what you would do in their place. He thinks you look cute when you’re riled up, but isn’t as prepared for the high of emotions that usually ends with his leg slipping between your thighs as your tongue slips into his mouth. 

He teases you about snoring, smirking wickedly when you turn flush and flail. What you will never know is how softly he smiles when he hears you snore, amused more than anything as he tugs you closer and you press your face into his neck. Sometimes, you mumble things about food. Even though you won’t remember it, he cooks it for you the next day. It’s his own little way of fulfilling wishes you’re not even aware of. 

Please cuddle with him. He doesn’t know how to initiate it other than just taking you into his arms. Hold him close, kiss his hair, tease him. Climb onto his lap or pull him onto yours. Learn to read his face and body, because there’s so much he doesn’t know how to say. 

He’s always believed naps are a waste of time but it’s also never stopped him from indulging. With you, he’ll still complain–even as he loosens his tie and plops down, looking up at you expectantly, and holds on tighter when it’s time to get up. Falling asleep with Victor feels like stepping into the ice fortress, only to find unbelievable warmth and safety inside. You never want to leave.

He feels a little pathetic when he’s away from you, feeling dejected and cold in his silent hotel room. Thoughts he’ll never voice out loud spring up, dramatic in their very nature. It’s awful, he thinks, being on his own. Are you thinking about him? Is it too early for a bedtime call? Is he being too needy? He’s not very good at sending pictures or video calling, and he resorts to excuses when he calls even though he just wanted to hear your voice. If you tell him you miss him, he’ll melt instantly. Keep talking, even if he’s not listening to every word, the sound of your voice is enough to bring him warmth. You can hear his sleepy responses to your words, but you know there’s no point in asking if he wants to go sleep–he won’t want to hang up until you’re both asleep. 

[yokelish]

Mut(e)iny.

✏ Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs ✏ Characters: Kunikida Doppo  ✏ Word count: 1,517 ✏ Warnings: Ansgstober in November.

I can’t even tell him. But even if I could, what would I tell him? There are no words to justify my longing. Nor would my words cloud his mind even for moment or shake the core of his being. I do not hold such power. He is simply unreachable, unfathomable, and, ultimately, unbending. Nothing like people who believe in things that are too beautiful to be preserved, like an undying faith in something big, and bright, and flawless. Nothing like a man who holds an unbreakable ideal in his heart. Nothing like mute rejection.

Fortunately or not, I was oblivious at first. And, perhaps, that was one of the reasons how he came to know. Not to say that I was blindly crossing this boundary. No, I simply saw something beyond this boundary. I thought it made us closer that I could see something too, something of my own somewhere in the distance. I wish I never saw.

No, it started ordinarily so. Two people crossing paths in life, following the same road, essentially coming to walk along side each other. Nothing special between two people for the things they keep in sight are a priority than the shoulder walking next to you. And it should have stayed that way. My eyes should have been looking at the things ahead of me, watching the road, never looking away for too long. If only I was as determined to keep my head straight and my eyes unblinking, I would have avoided much heartache. I wouldn’t be victim to such mutiny.

We brushed shoulders for a moment. Two people walking a road together, accidental contact that lingered a second too long. And what he thinks was a polite smile — a pacifying gesture — was something dazzling to me. I should have never looked at his face; I should have rebuked his smile, rejected any appeasement. But I stared wide-eyed, amazed by the unexpected. And from here on out, I only wanted to look at him more. And I did.

Sweet downfall. It was a slow fall, gentle as a petal dancing in the wind, and just as enchanting. The ground beneath my feet swiftly disappeared making me an easy pretty to the inevitable. It swallowed me whole. The way down was gentle, but it had nothing to do with his gentleness. No, that was because it was such an unhurried act, slowly coming together like a puzzle. He, on the other hand, he is quite the opposite. Wilful, inflexible, kind but harsh, stoic yet overreactive. Unlike some, it wasn’t the lack of emotional display that made him appealing or mysterious. It was his stubborn gaze forward. Always looking ahead as if he was seeing something, something no one else could see. It made it easier for me to look at him without being noticed. Of course, he wasn’t as naïve as to ignore his immediate surroundings, but If he was looking ahead, I was looking at him. Thus, our eyes never met. He didn’t know — wasn’t even aware of it happening — as I was watching more and more. And I was slowly moving towards my undoing since I forgot to watch the road ahead of me. It was, still, a sweet fall, I admit. 

There was more to him than he was willing to show. For his candor, he had his share of secrets. For example, refusing to show the pressure affecting him. Inflexible, dangerously so. Branches that refuse to follow the wind break sooner and louder. For this, I called him an oak with kindness a heart could offer. I didn’t think he’d understand. He called me a willow. It was me who didn’t understand.

His goodness was apparent, too apparent. His righteousness, uncompromising as it was, exposed his weaknesses to all naked eyes. It pained me to see his pain. For all his correctness, he still possessed an overflowing self-consciousness. He was far too aware of himself. Weaknesses and flaws hurt him more than they hurt me. After all, I was only an eyewitness. 

Yes, my fall was gentle, I admit. It’s the landing that’s always harsh and painful.

With the wisdom of time and broken heart, I can sat that is also a reason why he can’t look at me anymore. All he can see in me is his flaws observed, recorded, and reflected.

I once, in jest, compared him to his notebook: easy to read. With neat handwriting and dedication to order, it was true. My words were a compliment, at least that’s how I meant them. He seemed flustered for a second, taking in the unexpected words, processing. It was one of the things I treasures about his nature. He was observant, cautious with words, attentive when called upon. With a light-hearted laugh, he accepted my words without rebuke. And then offered some of his own. I may have to be puzzled by such comparison for the rest of my life. In his words, I was a memoir no one could read.

That’s when our eyes met. All I know that my heart was bursting, filled with warmth towards the person in front of me. All I know is that I was mesmerized by those eyes looking into mine. I have little doubt he never saw that, never noticed those signs. It wouldn’t be in his nature. He must have noticed by then or just in that moment, no matter. Because it didn’t last. His nature dictated to look forward more than at other people. Considering everything, he probably is the only one who can see it and believe in what he is seeing ahead. That was is ahead is attainable, that something is real and can be sustained. But I was lost after the moment was over. His words didn’t not sink into my heart nor did they reveal their meaning. They were left on my mind like an ugly imprint, a record unpleasantly repeating.

A memoir no one could read. I wondered how he meant it. Could it be something beautiful in his mind? But it meant I was a story no one could tell. While he had taste for unattainable, I doubt that’s how he saw things. Was he merely suspicious of my words to offer such a quizzical answer? Then he must not trust me at all. Could it be envy of a man who didn’t want to be read? Envy sprouts many sins.

The only answer I arrived at that he couldn’t read me. Whether it was good or bad, I could only guess. And my own nature took me towards adverse path.

The more I danced around him trying to prove my trustworthiness, the less, I think, he wanted to trust me. And when I stopped, he mutely judged my changing nature. He never said a word out loud, I knew that much about him just by observation. There was no winning, it wasn’t’ a race or a game. He was not a puzzle for me to put together. There would be no accomplishment. I should have known from the start.  

This not ideal, he says. And he means “this is no more than”. But all I hear is “this is less than”. If people were puzzles to him, he rejected those incomplete or with a piece missing. And he rejected them fully, at face value. Because it is not ideal, he says. And he means “no more than”, but all I heard is “less than”. I feel less than.

Late in the night, I tell something I shouldn’t have uttered in his presence. A question that’s been heavy on my mind, unpleasantly repeating. I asked how it felt to be walking a road so uncertain that it may lead to a dead end. He answered, of course. He answered as sensibly as a man chasing an impossible thing could. It angered me so. I wanted to revolt. For all the things I left unsaid, for all the thoughts inside my head, for every time I wanted to meet his eyes and he was only looking ahead. I wanted to avenge, I wanted to replicate the mutiny I have been going through. To inflict the pain of my thoughts onto someone else, make someone else understand what it’s like to be me in this impossible situation. I wanted to push him, send him falling, and down on the ground with a thud.

But it was his ideal, no one else’s. He never pushed beyond his boundary; I did. He never hinted at the more that could have been. He is free to decide what people suit him and whatnot. I know it, so I lose my voice. Again, I’m mute.

But our eyes meet once again. He is choosing to look at me, he might just be trying to read what no one else can. Perhaps, an oak would bend to the wind as willow does. And so, I ask him what made him so sure that his ideal would stay by his side when attained.

He never did give an answer, remaining mute.

[hideawayintheimaginationworld]

Ok so in the story about Matt you said Lefty found Spring Jr is it ok if we get a short story about Lefty finding them and everyone reaction's to the bab

“You're a strange little creature...”

Lefty was trying to prompt a response from the little Bunny he found, the Bunny in a sense reminded him of SpringBonnie, but with more greenish fur and silver eyes, it also was the size of an infant.

It also was covered by blood and it smelt weird.

The smell reminded Lefty of a dead body.

Having a sensitive nose, he easily sniffed the odour and saw the little guy across the road, wandering without purpose, Lefty quickly realised it didn’t just look like a kid sized SpringBonnie.

It acted like one.

Not being aware of road surroundings.

Lefty had a sneaking suspicion it smelt like Fazbear Entertainment's brand of supernatural bullshit, and being a kid too, so he followed the kid, trying to lure it out of the street and into the house, worried a human would see it and immediately call the police, or worse the little one could get run over by a car.

He had to bribe in the end, retrieving a bag of Candy, he was thankful Halloween wasn’t so long ago, so he was able to get out the leftover sweets and used them to draw the kid inside.

Once inside, Lefty locked the door, trapping the kid, but he— well Lefty assumed it was a male, if it had a gender— didn’t seem too worried and actually looked at Lefty like he expected more food, probably haven’t eaten in while, so Lefty was happy to offer food.

He wouldn’t live with the smell however, Lefty didn’t realise how bad it was until later, when he felt queasy and realised he couldn’t focus on washing the dishes.

So he geared himself up, getting rubber gloves, the custom gas mask he wore to block out smells, which covered his nose, mouth and lenses over his eyes, and he approached the child, almost like it was ticking time bomb to defuse.

He didn’t put up a fight to being lifted up and taken upstairs.

He didn’t even fight when he saw Lefty fill the bath.

In fact he looked curious.

Lefty wondered if he had never seen water before.

Regardless, he didn’t know where it came from, but he treated it like a child since it had obviously child behaviours.

Now Lefty was washing him in the bath, the water wasn’t deep, and Lefty was holding one hand to hold him while using the other to scrub around.

Lefty already emptied the water once because it turned red within two minutes.

Now Lefty was washing out the lotion he used to clean the skin of the sticky residue, wondering what it even was, he thought it looked like a bodily fluid but he wasn’t sure and didn’t dwell on it.

The bunny seem to enjoy the bath, trying to splash in the water, even trying to eat the bubbles that formed.

Lefty tried to think of where this thing came from, reasoning this thing didn’t appear to be something that was built.

But rather born.

And that should be impossible, as Lefty knew, they can’t reproduce.

But this thing could be a parasite... and if that's the case... I’m obligated to destroy it.

The bunny didn’t look bad in the slightest.

No one is born good or evil, he knew that, I'll search for whoever made you... but it's best if you live with me... living on the streets is not only dirty but dangerous.

With that decided, Lefty took him out of the bath, he brought out a towel and wrapped him up, debating where he could possibly sleep.

“So what is it?”

Breakfast was quite a spectacle for all, aside from the fact Lefty made French Toast

Lefty had set down Spring Jr, as he named him, on the sofa, he had obtained a spoon that he was using like a pacifier, much to Lefty's annoyance.

Lefty grabbed the handle, trying to pull it out of his mouth, while the kids watched him playing tug of war with a little bunny.

“I don’t know... I found it... I feel like it has Fazbear Entertainment written all over it...” Lefty answered.

“God, I’m sick of bull...” Alec huffed.

He knew they were all sick of the nonsense, considering everything that happened, like curses, killer animatronics, body swapping, possession, and sentient robots.

“I am honestly too... I’ve been debating...”

“Debating what?” Greg asked.

“Technically... I can quit... when we were made, Henry actually got us our own power of attorney in a nutshell.”

“You have a lawyer?” Millie questioned, surprised by the fact.

“All of us do, so Fazbear Entertainment can’t legally make us do anything we don’t want to... and I think it annoys them a lot... the only thing is... where would I get a job somewhere else? I mean it would be a pain but I could work somewhere else, it'd take a lot of effort, I think they pay us so we aren’t tempted to leave...”

“You can open your own restaurant,” Alec said, Lefty couldn’t tell if he was joking, “Seriously, you're a great cook and you are very patient.”

“I don’t know about it... but back to this... I'm going to sneak around the Archives... this is what I'd like you to do... watch this Bunny.”

“Well it seems calm... aside from the fixation on the spoon...” Oscar added.

“I might need to find something better for it to chew on, like a soft toy...”

“A tennis ball,” Greg immediately said, sounding serious.

Lefty laughed for a second, “How about no for now...” He finally pulled the drool covered spoon out of his mouth.

Lefty brought some stuff back and was studying it, he was reading some “confidential” documents, to which he found laughable how easy it was to take without getting caught, seriously he once got inside houses that were more secure than that building, all he needed was to break the keypad out of the wall and connect the fuse to unlock the door.

He was sitting on the sofa, Spring Jr was at his side, he had found something new to chew on— the spatula, which wasn’t bad since Lefty didn’t have to use it for anything at the moment, Lefty had made dinner and everyone went to do their own things at this time. Alec was sitting next to him, using the TV to play a game, Lefty was sort of interested, Alec said the game was called “A Hat in Time”.

Lefty shifted though the forbidden knowledge, stopping when he saw something, he read it a few times before confirming something he didn’t know.

Fazbear Entertainment had made a game in the works.

A game called Springtrap's Revenge.

It sounded like it was based off William Afton, which Lefty thought was tasteless, considering everything that happened.

He knew the history and it could take hours trying to put it into a correct timeline, the basics were that an unknown of kids had been murdered, Lefty knew the most about the original six, but they were more he kept learning about, Ennard, an incomplete prototype was possessed by a child Lefty had no idea existed, as the kid had a bad foster family and he was never confirmed to be dead until recently.

It sicken Lefty, considering now he had kids, true they were older than all of William normal victims, but Lefty considered himself a fiercely protective parent, and he had actually gone against people who threaten his kids, nothing violent, enough to teach them a lesson.

Lefty's phone lit up, as a message came in, Lefty thought it might be Fetch asking for treats but saw Mr Emily instead and immediately looked at it.

“Plan was success, we aren’t associated with Fazbear Entertainment anymore.”

Lefty smiled, he waited for this day, as did everyone.

Now they could hopefully stay to pull away from the tragedies and evil.

The foundation was corrupt.

But the future was bright.

Considering Lefty had a family now too.

He stopped working and watched Alec playing his game, he wasn’t one for video games, but having a teenager who was kind of obsessed with games (Alec did still study and did chores), Lefty got interested in the games, as a result, he had actually made good memories being a second player with Alec, laughing and smiling.

“We still have to find out where you came from...” Lefty muttered looking at Spring JR.

He then watched Alec for a few minutes before saying, “So you collect like little hourglasses in this game?”

“Yes.”

Pause.

“I might get some ice cream, you want some?”

“Yes, please.”

“Daddy?”

“What?”

“Is it calling you Daddy?”

“No... it's looking outside and saying Daddy... like he lost his father or something...”

Pete and Chuck were watching Spring JR along with Lefty.

“I think it's creepy...”

“I have to wonder... who does this thing see as its Daddy?” Lefty muttered, “Regardless... I'll try my best with it... I need to find out what Springtrap's Revenge might be...”

[vitamx]

the iron door: chapter 1

[ Also read on AO3! ]

---

 grian had made quite the first impression when he had entered the hermitcraft server.

 carrying a body bag that clanked whenever it moved in the slightest- some hermits even said it moved by itself- it was obvious as to why that was.

when xisuma had asked, he had simply grinned and laughed, saying it was an incomplete project he couldn't possibly leave behind.

 what kind of project? a redstone one.

so that bag is filled with redstone parts? not exactly.

then what is in the bag? i told you- an incomplete project. nothing dangerous, don't worry...

there might have been a day or two of suspicion, but the minute that body bag disappeared somewhere unknown, no one really seemed to question it.

especially not when he had started a chain of events that led to a chaotic game of tag, a pickle shop with no exit, and after that came prank after prank after prank... and after that, there was the prank war, and the architechs, and sahara, and the build-off...

 needless to say, with such a chaotic server, it was easy to forget something as minuscule as a large bag with, most likely, iron and redstone parts in it.

however, one fateful, chilly afternoon mumbo had received a flurry of messages from his good friend grian.

  grianmc: do you remember the bag i brought with me into the world?

 mumbojumbo is typing...

 mumbojumbo: why yes, i do!

mumbojumbo: you said it was an "unfinished project" right?

grianmc: yes yes

grianmc: this may sound a bit odd but can you,

grianmc: keep an eye on it while im away for the week? like... just some regular maintenance checks

grianmc: nothing too difficult, promise

  curious as to whatever (likely horrid and broken) contraption grian had been working on over the season, mumbo agreed without much thought.

  mumbojumbo: sure i can!

mumbojumbo: where are you going?

 grianmc is typing...

 grianmc: just to an old server. to check up on things

grianmc: and thanks. i mean it

grianmc: i also made some recordings and stuff to help, uh

grianmc: guide you through the maintenance checks and stuff

 grianmc is typing...

 grianmc is typing...

 grianmc: the, project, is in the sunken ship- the one that was my starter base.

 grian mc is typing...

 grianmc: dont freak out when you see it

  the last message made mumbo pause, his fingers hesitating over the keypad of the communicator as he typed out his own response to it.

  mumbojumbo: why would i freak out?

  > grian has left the world.

 mumbojumbo: grian?

  ---

  that night, mumbo had flown over to the sunken ship-in-a-bottle, as grian had instructed.

although his clothes got quite damp from the trip down, which left him in a sour mood, the comforting, almost rustic atmosphere calmed him down greatly and nearly instantaneously.

 the plain, simple garden in front of the ship was also still well taken care of, even after nearly a year and a half of the season starting.

 wringing out his tie and hair, mumbo quickly shook the water off of himself, hugging himself to warm up as best he could.

 as he entered the actual shipwreck itself, a strong scent of wood filled the room. although it was cramped and rather small, was very cozy and welcoming.

entering the next room over, mumbo's eyes landed on a sign that was placed above an iron trapdoor- on the wooden floor in front of it was a stone button.

  mumbo

(or whoever might have come here instead):

push the button and go down the ladder

to check on the project

 placing his foot on the button, mumbo pressed down and quickly climbed down the ladder, which seemed to go on for quite a long while. the pathway down was dark and cold, unlit and chilling to the bone.

by the time he had reached the end, he could see void particles rising through the floor and felt the familiar, faint tug of the void.

  in front of him was an iron door.

  the iron door's windows were blocked with stone, and there seemed to be no button or lever to open it.

 the room he himself was in was hardly decorated and was made entirely of stone and gravel and dirt.

the only light source was a redstone torch placed in the corner of the room- how there were no mobs that had spawned, mumbo did not know.

 but as he stepped closer to the iron door, he began to hear a faint noise.

ignoring the unease he felt, mumbo pressed his ear against the door...

  and he heard breathing.

  whirred, raspy, and heavy breathing, pressed against the other side of the iron door.

the breathing came out in near gasps, the breathing seemed desperate and hysterical.

 mumbo quickly stepped back, uncertainty swallowing him whole and leaving him with nothing but dread and unrelenting unease.

 stumbling backwards, mumbo nearly tripped over a small device that lay clattered against the floor.

upon closer inspection, he saw the faint outline of a communicator, a dim red light overlaying the screen.

upon the darkened screen was a simple audio file, titled "MCHECK_01.mp3".

 with only a few seconds of hesitance, mumbo opened the file, and turned the volume up.

  "um... hello, hello? is this thing on?"

  grian's voice echoed throughout the empty room.

  "ah, good! so, erm... hello! this is grian, though i hope that's obvious. thanks for taking on the job, um- whoever it is that accepted."

  mumbo slowly sat himself on the cold ground, gaze unwavering as he stared at the iron door.

  "now, i know it's super dark and all down here, but... think of this as rule #1. DO NOT! i repeat do NOT! put any more light sources in here than there already is. he- i, i mean it doesn't like bright lights. at least not in this state."

"its just a simple NPC, so it shouldn't be too dangerous to maintain. if you go through the door, which, uh, you'll have to make your own button or lever- two of them actually, it should be slumped against the corner all broken-machiney like."

  mumbo paused the recording, slowly pulling out a button from his inventory.

 grian said it wouldn't be dangerous- plus, what were the chances that grian would make some sort of dangerous machine that would harm him? close to none, he'd say.

he firmly pressed the button aside the door until it was fully mounted on the wall, and held the palm of his hand over it, reluctant to press it.

  he pressed his ear against the iron door once more, hand slipping away from the button on the wall.

  the breathing was gone; the room was dead silent.

  letting out a breath he was unaware to have been holding, mumbo picked up the communicator on the ground and firmly pressed the button, stepping inside of the other room.

 the door shut with a clink, and once again he was met with a dark room with a single redstone torch in the corner.

the only difference he could see was that the room was made of spruce wood and logs, and was much more narrow than the previous opening.

  the floor creaked beneath him as he reached out to grab onto the redstone torch propped on the wall.

  so far, he did not see any machine- though it was more likely that said machine was just in the other corner, which had no light reflected onto it.

bringing the torch closer to the other side of the wooden room, mumbo stalked forward with caution, squinting his eyes to try and make out any outline of a machine.

  what he stumbled across was more complex than any redstone contraption he'd ever seen.

what he came upon was a disturbing sight that sent shivers up his spine.

  collapsed in the corner of the room was a replica of grian.

  the side of its face was sprawled open, revealing its internal metal skeleton, and oil and redstone were bubbling down the side of that skeleton's mouth, staining its iron teeth.

 its eyes were cast downward, dull and black, and the bottom half of its shirt was torn off, revealing an iron ribcage with missing bolts and cut wires, burn marks and scratches.

 its right leg up to its knee was missing entirely, red and blue uneven wires sprawling out across the floor. its hands were missing a few fingers.

  it was hard to look at an NPC replica of your close friend and call it an... well, "it".

especially in the condition it was in.

  shakily leaning down and placing the torch upon the floor, never looking away from the machine, mumbo pulled out the communicator and continued playing the audio file.

  "...so, you probably saw it, and freaked out a little bit, am i right? well. i guess it's pretty normal to do that- sorry for the scare. i guess we can just move along with the maintenance check ASAP, huh?"

  the head of the machine creaked ever so slightly, turning to look at mumbo the minute his eyes looked downward.

  "for now, you can just push any parts of its body that have... popped out, so to speak. sometimes it's its face, sometimes it's its arm... i think its locks are kind of broken. all you gotta do is push it back into place until it clicks. after that, just make sure it's powered down all the way- the power button is on the back of its neck. if it's green, press and hold until it turns red."

  the recording ended; the communicator shutting off by itself.

 looking up at the NPC, he froze up, eyes locking instantly with black and empty eyes.

hadn't it been facing towards the ground...?

  no, no, he must have just been imagining things, there's no way the broken down and tattered machine in front of him could have moved.

it was as still as a stone, unmoving and unwavering.

  swallowing a lump in his throat, mumbo reached his hand forward, pressing against one of the three sections of the NPC's face, and clicked it back into place.

reaching both hands out this time, he swiftly pushed the other pieces of its face back, retreating his hands the minute the pieces clicked into place.

 why was he so nervous? there was nothing to be nervous about.

it was just a broken machine, nothing more and nothing less.

 pushing its head forward, mumbo peered behind the NPC, a chill running down his spine as he saw a bright green button on the backside of its neck.

recalling grian's instructions, mumbo quickly pressed the button, holding it down for one second, two seconds, three seconds, and finally-

  "HELLO, MY NAME IS NPC GRI-AN- NPC GR- NP- N- N- N- N-N-N-N-N-"

  jumping back with a scream, mumbo fell onto the floor, scrambling away from the NPC fearfully, its voice screeching loudly and its body twitching sporadically.

his heart beating loudly in his chest, and he locked eyes with the reddened irises of the machine before him.

 after a few more seconds of jittering and glitchy screaming, the NPC seemed to shut down completely, its eyes flickering back into nothingness.

  mumbo heaved, stumbling up to his feet once more. after quickly and skittishly checking to see if the power button was red (which it was), he quickly ran to the iron door, slamming a button down and opening the iron door immediately.

elytra equipped and rockets in hand, mumbo flew upwards and out of the sunken ship as fast as he possibly could.

  even as he reached his base, he could feel his heart racing still.

 ---

[regrettablewritings]

Hello! Id like to request 3, 5, 13, and 22 for Poe please?

Hello! Stuff’s below the cut, assuming Tumblr has stopped assing around!

3. Who is the most romantic?: As much as people like to joke about him and play him up as a rowdy boy who takes very little seriously, it’s quite easy to forget that Poe is canonically a sentimentalist at heart. He keeps his mother’s wedding ring on his person so that he can one day give it to someone whom he wants to be with, for crap’s sake! I think what also makes him showing off his romantic side a bit out of place is that no matter what anyone says, love blooming during a war is still something happening during a very chaotic time. Maybe inspirational, arguably a little too optimistic, but always and most definitely out of place. And considering his rank as general, Poe’s got a lot on his plate. Even when he wants to take you out to a nice dinner and do any usual courting actions, the likelihood is just so low . . . But don’t underestimate him. Poe can be quite resourceful in addition to being determined. Some nights when it seems quiet, he’ll set up a blanket somewhere for the two of you to sit on. If you’re on a ship, it’ll be by a window; if it’s on a planet, he’ll find a nice, quiet spot that’s not too close to base but not too far just in case; if you’re in more of a bunker, he’ll find a nice, quiet corner as far from everyone as he can get and sketch a randomized star chart that probably isn’t based anywhere near reality. Whatever the case, you’ll see stars and planets of some kind and he’ll encourage you to make a game of it, pointing at random dots and he’ll either identify the planet or make up a name for it and then go on to make up silly or amazing stories about the adventures he’s hypothetically had there or the dates you could go on while there. It’s very sweet, and also rather promising about the future.

5. Who says ‘I love you’ first?: It would depend, honestly. I don’t think Poe’s above saying it, but I think under certain circumstances, you might beat him to it. Circumstances that include the ship coming under attack and him having to fly out in defense. You’re nervous obviously. You’re always nervous whenever he flies out, even if it’s just for a recon mission. But in the middle of a blitz? You can’t understand why he seems so calm about it all! Why does he always seem so sure of himself when he jumps into that piloting suit? How does his brow remain unperturbed whenever he places that bulky helmet on his head? Is it all a facade? Or is he genuinely that confident? To your dismay, the only thing to rip you out of this fearful reverie was a sudden blast from the attack, the rattling sending you off balance. It was a mere stroke of luck that the man of the hour was already at your side, keeping you steady. “Gogogo, get to one of the pods!” he demands, his unwavering sense of leadership prevailing. “Be safe, okay?” It sounds so simple, yet when he says it, you know it’s not just some phrase to give you comfort. It’s an actual plea. Even as he parts, you can see the worry in his eyes. It’s the only hint you have that he might not be as dauntless as he seems. As you released, stumbling to keep moving forward, you turn back to see him heading toward the direction of the X-Wing hangar. You don’t know what you feel first: The pang in your gut; the thunder of your heartbeat; the scrambling of your mind as panic hits you. The only thing you notice (and in hindsight, no less), is that you called after him: “I love you!” He stops for a moment. He stares at you. You weren’t sure if he intended on doing anything. Maybe some part of you hoped he would respond in turn -- respond at all, really. But before anything could even happen, a shower of sparks from the breaking walls interrupted you, causing you both to stumble backwards. “Get to a pod, (Y/N), I’ll find you later! I promise!” you heard him call out to you. By the time the rain of static ended, he was gone.

13. When do they realize they should get together?: Poe comes to this conclusion first. Or rather, he is more accepting of this before you are. Deep down, you’ve been wanting to be with him for ages. How could you not? He’s handsome, brave, smart, sweet, funny, protective . . . But he’s also fighting as a general and pilot in the Resistance. You’re involved, too, of course, but you’re not anywhere near the front lines as he is. And as selfish as it may be, the fear of one day learning he won’t be flying back leaves your body filled with a heavy, dark bile of sadness and fear. Besides, surely a man of his standing would prefer a woman befitting of his caliber? Perhaps another warrior soul with a gorgeous face . . . Meanwhile, Poe already knows: You’re the one he wants. You’re smart, you think fast, you like his sense of humor, you’re loyal and kind -- and those are just the things he can think of on the spot if he didn’t have time to go into detail about how you were resilient, a different breed of hero he could respect. The tipping point that brought him to this, though, probably happened when everyone had gathered one evening during dinner hours and began to swap stories about their lives before the war and what they planned on doing after. When it came to Poe, he talked about how he kinda liked the idea of exploring the galaxy more, seeing places and embracing them without the cold grip of a looming war, helping to rebuild and maybe potentially help to establish stability on more outer realms . . . And these were all true, he did want these! But the more he talked about it, processing his thoughts into words . . . the more he couldn’t help but feel something missing. He never added that last little tidbit, but it did stay in his mind for the rest of the night. It didn’t leave until the next day when he saw you shuffling out of your sleeping quarters, hair a mess, eyes still crusting with sleep. “‘Mornin’,” you muttered as cheerily as your morning-broken body would let you. And just like that, he knew what his plans were missing: You. He wanted you to be there in all of his efforts, by his side. And, likewise, he wanted to be there with you. To support you, to experience what more life had to offer with you. He tried after the fact to see him doing any of these things without you but frankly, it just felt wrong. Incomplete. In short, you had been wanting to be with him after getting used to him. Poe wanted it after realizing he didn’t want it any other way.

22. Where does their first kiss happen?: Sooooo remember when I said you blurted out your love confession at a dramatic and less-than-ideal moment? It stuck with him. Even as Poe sprinted toward his X-Wing, even as he and a handful of other pilots took off to handle the threat. Honestly, it was a miracle he was able to stay focused just enough to avoid getting injured or even killed. But he did it, and now he had a promise to keep. Meanwhile, you were dealing with a lot. All the escapees managed to warp and regroup to a backwater planet for the time being, giving you one less thing to worry about so you could go ahead and worry about everything else. Like if Poe was safe, what the next steps were for this branch of the Resistance, and, oh yes, the fact that you had confessed your love to a general in the midst of an attack. Simple stuff. Of course you wanted him to return safely. You wanted that more than anything! But every time you tried to even consider what would happen next after the fact, your mind would collapse into a blob. To your dismay, you still didn’t have any answers when the X-Wings landed. Against your brain’s screaming pleas, you felt obligated to run with everyone else to the designated landing area and greet the heroes. The screams only silenced when you saw him. Your mind just couldn’t function enough to make any sounds or movements. You didn’t even so much as flinch when your brain registered that he had caught sight of you . . . and was walking towards you. “(Y/N)?” His voice sounded so distant, and yet you could hear something in his tone. You just weren’t sure what. Concern? Hesitancy? You felt his gloved hands cupping your cheeks. You could smell his sweat, hints of smoke from the mission, trace amounts of the soap he’d used this morning for his shower. You could see those brown eyes that you loved so much, how they practically shined with gladness and adoration -- Wait, what? You didn’t really have time to think back: The moment you felt his lips, warm and needful, connecting with your own, your mind went blank.

. . . I think I went a little overboard 😅  But I hope it came out alright! Thanks for asking!