#sorry i got emotional and started hallucinating

[mailuvsjayke]

Could you make Jay being her best friend and roommate, and accidentally opening the bathroom door while she is taking a shower?? Plsss🫶🫶

bless the fact i have no work rn 🙏

18+ mdni

note: all that aside in a wholesome aspect i know jay would shower his best friend with so much love (HAVE YOU SEEN MY BABE WITH HIS MEMBERS I LITERALLY WANT HIM IN MY LIFE)

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Personally I think of Jay as a gentleman (don't we all) and would never want to lose the trust of one of the people he's closest with and loves dearly, so he would of course be apologizing and leave.

But he would never want to miss the body you have so clearly exposed to him, dripping from the head down with shampoo all up in your hair and crawling down your temples as if you're inviting him.

By the time he's left he's probably all chubbed up in his pants and won't stop thinking about this encounter for days, would imagine you over and over again as he jerks off like a sore loser in distress.

I SO THINK Jay becomes hyper aware of everything you do and realizes how comfortable you are with each other living under the same roof as well!!!

It's only now the realization sets in with how much trust you have for him, and it turns him on, knowing you somewhat rely on him for the comfort and company he offers (service top), he definitely starts catering to you more since he's gotten this newfound sexual attraction to you.

Newfound sexual attraction means newfound need to be closer to you.

As he tries to strengthen these unbreakable bonds, maybe then you'd finally break open (your legs) for him and give him what he thinks both of you deserve.

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since it's jay, you'd fuck him anyway lol 🤷

im sorry this isn't typically nasty but associating jay with the word best friend is INSANE i can't think of anything except him being so cute and lovely ohmygod (promise you i can match your freak when the skies above call for it)

i still love ur pretty brain nonnie let me take a munch out of it 💕

[reverie-starlight]

{need you now- hawks}

y’all remember need you now by lady antebellum?

gn!reader, no physical descriptions. angst-ish? kinda fluffy. I’ll be doing a part two of this from keigo’s perspective eventually.

you can’t sleep.

this has been happening more and more lately, and you wonder how much more you can take without starting to hallucinate.

he’s back home from a mission now, which you only found out because of one of his fan accounts. well- “home”. he’s been staying in the luxurious house the commission kept aside for him. nothing homely about it according to keigo, but it’s not like he has much of a choice.

not after you got caught up in the argument and told him you wanted nothing to do with him.

you had shrugged it off when you saw the post, not knowing if it’s been too long to try and reconcile, but now you’re going down memory lane, holding back tears as you flip through the photo album he made you.

you fight yourself to stay off your phone, but you get to a photo of him kissing your cheek and you can’t stop yourself any longer. the loneliness you’ve been feeling all this time finally wins out.

the clock reads 1:15 AM.

is he even awake right now?

it’s been a month… and he’s always so busy, do you even cross his mind anymore? he always seems to be on yours.

you call anyway, against your better judgement and your heart lurches into your throat when he actually answers.

after two rings, at that.

“hello?” his voice both soothes you and chills you to your bones at the same time.

“hi keigo,” you whisper.

“hi, ba-“ you think he’s about to call you baby out of habit and you wish he hadn’t stopped himself. “did you need something?”

he sounds… somber. solemn. sad.

not at all like the keigo you love.

guilt pools in your stomach at the mere idea of you hurting him this badly.

“I…” you bite your lip. “I miss you.”

you hear his breath hitch. “really?”

you wish you could see his expression and figure out what he’s feeling. he’s always been so good at keeping his voice free of emotion.

granted, he always tried to turn that skill off around you, so you gather that he must be feeling guarded.

you keep going. “I’m so sorry for that night, keigo. I said things that I didn’t mean and I regret it so much… I’m so sorry I hurt you.”

he’s quiet on the line for a few beats and then and exhaled “I’m sorry too, baby. we both said some pretty awful things, didn’t we?”

you laugh, but it sounds a bit more like a sob to you. “yeah,” your voice breaks. “keigo, I… I need you here with me. can you please come over so we can talk about this?”

he clears his throat, likely working overtime to continue to keep the growing emotion out of his voice, but it sounds thick when it breaks anyway. “y-eah. yeah, I can come over. I need you too. I’ll be there soon, okay? unlock the window for me, sweetheart.”

he hangs up and you quickly move to do as he asked.

five minutes later, he’s on your balcony, sliding the glass and slipping into your room.

he immediately wraps you in his arms and your body, once cold and empty, fills with a warmth only he could provide.

he’s whispering words into your scalp. “I love you, y’know that? I love you too much to ever want to break up.”

you nod against his chest, letting the tears flow freely. “I love you too. I’m sorry,” these words are repeated between the two of you- they shoot out of your mouth and hit his chest, sinking into his skin and bubbling up his throat only for them to hit your scalp and absorb into your brain, then fall out of your mouth again like a well oiled machine working overtime.

but there’s nothing habitual about these phrases- as is the case for any time you say them, they’re promises.

promises that will never be broken again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I’ve had this idea for a while and I finally wrote it :3

AND I’m gonna work on this from his POV, which I’m almost more excited abt than this one 👀

@emmyrosee sum angst (ish)

[themeraldee]

Reader who's a loner, regularly has hallucinations that they just sorta deal with. One night they were on the roof of a skyscraper, kinda high/drunk (whichever your more comfy with) they hallucinates homelander, the convo kind goes like this

H: *clenching fist* wasn't expecting to see another person up here.

R: OH SH- hiii omigosh sorry you startled me, but hey how ya doin?

Homelander had come up there for some peace and quiet but was pleasantly surprised that this person didn't just annoy him, but actually had a good heart to heart with him, as they related to each others loneliness, he feels a sense of comradery he hasn't ever felt, making him emotional. homelander pulls out the old "I should go now, I have to fight crime." Excuse so he can go home and think about it. Over the span of two weeks he couldn't stop thinking of them. He didn't even know their name but hes like "their the one." Leading him to tracking them down. Now remember in the first half when I said they hallucinated him? Well It turns out they weren't hallucinating, he was completely real and they were actually talking to him that night, thinking "this HAS to be a hallucination". But no, now they have to deal with an obsessed homelander.

One of my favourite tropes is Homelander falling for someone with absolutely zero thought. He doesn't need a slow burn or get to know them better. Nah, he's all in. Whatever it is that clicks with him takes no time to settle and he's pursing them full throttle STAT.

The idea of reader continuously thinking that he's a hallucination would lead to some funny moments. Of course he's not real, this Homelander is a jerk, a real crude asshole. Only you would come up with something like that. Nothing like the sickly sweet persona they parade on the TV. And of course Homelander would be getting increasingly frustrated because you should be getting yourself just as obsessed with him! And you can't do that if you don't think he's real!

"Of course my hallucination of Homelander is a more fucked up version of him."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"Well, look at yourself. You're a little crazy. Don't act like you do on TV. And that's a good thing really, so my hallucination gets a 1, real Homelander 0."

"For the tenth time I'm real!"

"Yeah yeah you've said. Still not done anything to prove it though."

So naturally, he kisses you, like he's been itching to do. And what was that if not a blanket permission.

"Woah woah woah, what the hell?!"

"You wanted proof. You got it."

And because your hallucinations never felt corporeal before you start freaking the fuck out. Because what do you mean it's been the real Homelander all along that you've been making yourself a fool in front of??

[icarusredwings]

A snippet from a fic series im working on called

"FINDING HOME"

This comes after DOG TAGS. Scott finds Logan in the Professors old office and confronts him about it. Established Poolverine. For those who have read the Jean Grey one, this comes prior to that.

Warning: mentions of character death, cheating, emotional angst, no fluff, no happy ending, unconsentual kiss.

SCOGAN FANS COME GET YOUR FOOD

“Excuse me, you aren't supposed to be in here.” It was as if he had just woken from a dream, picking his head up as he quickly realized that the man he was once crying on was now gone. Vanished out of thin air.

I found you

I found the door

Sitting up, he wiped his tears away, sniffling.

“Why do you care? Where'd the professor go?” He asks, genuinely concerned. It's not like the paralyzed fucker could just get up and walk away. And even if he could. He wouldn't just abandon him here, alone, would he?

The man now crossing his arms scoffed.

“What kind of idiotic question is that? Really, Logan, I thought you would have grown up by now. Stopped with the stupid tricks.”

Just looking at him both pissed him off and made him want to smile. The only one who hasn't a telepath who ever dared try to question him and put him in his place time and time again. Oh, how much he's grown. His stance alone screamed “Tightwad Principal” and it seemed as if Logan had just got himself some after-school detention.

So mature. Such a prick. So… Scott. Done up with a new set of visors, a pure white button up underneath a tacky sweater vest that somehow only ever looked good on him. A pair of ironed brown slacks, shiny black shoes, stupid checkered socks. He even had a school pen in his pocket and a yellow tie. So professional, it made him want to rip it all off of him with his bare teeth and then shred it all so he could never make him feel the way he felt in his stomach ever again.

“Look at you.. finally reached the top, haven't cha?” He muttered under his breath, standing as he shoved his hands in his pockets.

“What?? Logan, are you drunk or something? You know there's no outside alcohol on school grounds.” he started but the man wasn't listening at all. God He even smelled like a nerd. Fresh dry cleaning, a cucumber lather shampoo, and a soft hint of Lavender linen.

“What me? No no, I uhm.. I'm sober now…So where is he?”

“Who?” He seemed frustrated.

“The old man. Chuck. Wheels.” He gestured to the chair, looking around the room. Man, maybe they should hire a maid. This place was so dusty.

Scott swallowed, looking away, to the picture up on the wall of multiple classes. “..Gone.”

“Hm. Well. You know what they say. When teach is away the students will play. Heh, right?” He nudged him with his elbow but he only looked at him with slight disgust.

“You dare come into a deadmans office just to joke about him? Tch. You didn't change a bit, did you?” He grumbled.

Logan's eyes widened, his frown returning, but didn't last long.

“Heh… Ha! Good one, Slim! Yeah real funny, I deserve it, but really. Where is he? I wasn't done talking to him.” He leaned on his shoulder, smirking, only to be pushed off.

“None of us were…”

It was at this moment, it hit him.

“What..? H-how!? I was just- He was just-”

Logan had just gotten Charles back, and now he was being told that he- what? Hallucinated his entire conversation with him? Saw a ghost?? No. That isn't right. He felt him touch him. He pet his head and told him he missed him...

But when I stepped through

There was no floor

“He's been gone for a little under a year now, Logan. If you would have shown up to the funeral you would have known that.”

“What? But I-” He's only been in this timeline for about 8 and a half months. “Oh- I… did Hank not tell you? I'm not from this timeline. So.. I thought..”

“You thought since your Professor was still alive, ours would be… Yeah.. I realize that now. Sorry.” The scent of Sand filled the air.

“Right.. except-" His charles was dead too. Perhaps he dreamt it? "Erm nevermind.… So.. How have things been? With the school? It's obvious someone got a big promotion. From teacher's pet to principal, Yeah?” He poked fun at him, something they've always done to each other.

Scott took a deep breath, smiling. Closing the door behind him as he stepped further in to observe the photos on the wall.

“Hard… But we're getting there. Baby steps. Every day we get another problem, another fight that we have to win. Another person trying to bring us down on the news.” Picking up one of the photos, he rubbed over it to expose young faces, blowing the dust away.

Logan smirked, staring at him for a moment.

“You sound just like him.”

“Tch. Yeah right. If I sounded at least half like him, I'd be a way better at convincing kids to stop breaking things or play the floor is lava with actual lava instead of just pretending….and stabbing each other for fun” This last part was trailed off, Glancing at him as if implying for a reason Logan was unaware, it was his fault.

“Oh man! That sounds rough.” He could only imagine trying to deal with a whole school of kids melting the furniture. He hoped the school nurse had a great healing power if he was implying what he thought he was implying. That Laura came here.

“Yeah… would be nice if we could get some extra help..someone…experienced.” Scott didn't move his head, but Logan could tell he was looking at him from the corner of his eyes.

“Like… me?” Logan asks, just now realizing how close they were. Close enough to-

Before he could even react, Scott kissed him. His hand coming behind his head, gripping the back of his head. Setting down the picture, his hand came to logans, about to rub over his knuckle, only to pull away when the claws came out.

Panting a bit, he stared at him, wiping his mouth off as he glared. “What the fuck did you do that for!?”

Holding his arm, Logan had scratched the button up just enough to make small holes in his arm. “What are YOU doing? Are you trying to stab me!?”

“No!- maybe? I-i don't know! Why did you do that?!” He asked again, almost whining. Why now? After all these years, a whole different timeline even, why now!? What was he going to tell Wade?

“Logan, You're coming back. After all these years you're finally coming home. There must be a reason. Right? It's like you said. You even jumped timelines to do it.”

You're coming back

And it's the end of the world

Staring at him in disbelief, Logan shook his head. “You really think…” Starting to chuckle, He put his head In his hand only to groan, looking at him as if he were the insane one.

“You really think.. that I jumped a whole timeline just so you could kiss me in a forbidden corridor? Again!? Summers, I just saved this entire universe! I'm the reason all of this is even still standing!” He growled, watching him step forward, calling his bluff.

Retracting the claws, it was like watching someone take a confident step towards an aggressive dog, only to watch its tail tuck and his ears flatten, licking its lips as it turns away.

“And I'm so proud of you for that.” He whispered.

If he had one, that tucked tail would start to wag at the bottom, a soft grin appearing, quickly shaken off as he turned around. “No- no. We've been through this before. A whole different you. It's just the same. Hell, I don't even know you!”

Moving to stand where his gaze was, Scott whispered. “Yes you do. We both do.”

Thick vanilla cream. A hint of fresh baked buns. The truth. A pure, filling truth.

Logan's eyes softened as he thought. He hated it but he was right. As much as he wanted to deny it, he would stink of gasoline if he said he wasn't thinking about him on the way up here. If he was okay, how much of a kiss ass he used to be (and still was). If this Timelines Wolverine had the same struggles that he did so long ago. And apparently this one was worse. He never even got a kiss from his own Scott.

“No.. I don't. I knew MY scott. I don't know you…I don't know THIS Scott summers.”

But this Scott? He seemed more than eager to see him again. How long has it been? What things were said? What promises were made? How many times did he lie to Jean just to sneak into his room at night? Oh man, Jean.. He couldn't do this again. Not to her, not to anyone. It wasn't fair for him. It wasn't fair period. For either of them. Scott always was the controlling type. Everything in their correct spots and perfectly aligned.

Unfortunately for Logan, relationships were nothing but messy. Always messy. But sometimes messy could be fun when loyalty was always put first. It seems Scott never got the memo.

Shaking his head again, Logan Pushed him away, as tempting as it was to show that man how a real kiss was done, he didn't want to give him any idea that there was hope for them.

“Well then let's start over.” Shifting his weight, he did that stupid little smirk that made Logan want to bite him. Putting his hand out for him to shake, the other went to his pocket.

“Hello. I'm Scott. Scott Summers.”

We're starting over

The cockiness in his voice made his knees want to buckle. To sit on that floor- perhaps even under the professor's desk and- No. No no no. Bad Logan! Bad!

Pulling his hand away. “Sorry Bub. Not happening… I'm getting married. And you-” He poked him in the chest quite hard. “Are already married.” He crossed his arms. “And you really should tell your wife. If I know Jean, she has already seen it and just doesn't want to believe it.”

“Don't talk about our marriage. You don't know anything about it. You don't know anything about real relationships to begin with! All you know is shutting people out and what the bottom of a bottle looks like.” He grumbled, fist tightening.

Logan almost wished he'd hit him just so he had a reason to claw him to pieces… though.. he did admire how rude he was to him.. Hopefully, it had something to do psychologically with pack hiarchy and not a weird sexual thing… but now that he thought about it.. he had quite the type.

“What do you see in him anyway?”

It was clear he touched a nerve. That easily? The man who used to be able to take a hundred insults without even blinking, insecure about his coverup of a marriage. Glaring, Logan gave him a glare that practically begged him to say something about Wade, tripple dog daring him to open his mouth just enough so he could shove a fist in it.

“...He makes me laugh…”

“I can do that-”

“No…No you can't. Not like him, you can't.”

But he continued. “b-Besides. It can be our little secret. Like old times. Remember? You used to love sneaking around.”

“No. I didn't…”

“But It was your idea!”

“We were kids, Scott. Kids! This is serious. Real life. You're married. I'm engaged. That's the end of it. God, you're just like him!” Logan began pacing in circles like a caged animal in the wild, being released only to come right back to the same enclosure.

“Everything revolves around you and your perfect reputation! Do you ever think- Just for A second that maybe that was the only way I knew I'd ever get to have you!? You just couldn't choose me over your made up bullshit, could you? I-” by now he was pointing at him, hurt and angry tears in his eyes. Swallowing, he wouldn't give him the satisfaction of a voice crack.

“It's not like you didn't hear me say ‘I love you’!.. and I swear I still do.. But it must have been so bad without me because it almost killed you! All of you! And yet you're not sorry. You'll never be sorry for how you treated me all those years!”

And I love you darling

And I am done here

“But I am-”

“No Scott!! You're not!” He growls, not needing his smell to know that this was a lie. He would do it all again if he let him.

“I should have known it wasn't like you to say sorry, But here I am! A fool! Waiting on a different story! I thought this timeline's you would be better but God was I mistaken!! Sorry that clawing out my own heart and handing it to you on a silver platter wasn't good enough for ya, Bub.”

He now pointed at himself. “And now… Now! All these years later. I finally found someone who WILL take care of it. Who will protect if from assholes like you who want to play with it. What am I huh? A toy? Well guess what Scott?!”

Scott sighed, waiting a second as he processed everything he said before shrugging his shoulders. “Are you going to tell me I'm a horrible person because I have feelings I can't understand?”

Logan scoffed, smirking as air blew out of his nose, beginning to chuckle. “No… No no no no, see because if it was just that you would have told your wife already. It's far more then that. You want both but you don't want to share either. Hate to tell ya buddy but i'm not gonna be a steak for you to chew on whenever you get tired of your cake.”

Again he shakes his head. But smiled, his eyes staring into his soul through the visors, inches away from his face. “Because you know what Scott? I do have something to thank you for.

“Thank me? For what?” His head didn't bother move, seeing how worked up he was, moving quickly was a death wish, but he wasn't afraid. Oh no, never. He could never be afraid of him.

“Thanks for reminding me of who I am! Go on! Ask what I mean by that, One-eye.” This word was venomous despite Wolverines having none, Logan made It work.

Another sigh, upset and disappointed, feeling miserable. “..And what is that, Logan?”

“A loyal husband!” He turned to leave. “I'm done here. Goodbye Scott. I was really hoping this time things would be different but you're just an oversized boyscout in this universe too, Aren't Cha? You don't love me. You never have. And after all this time. You haven't changed at all!”

“Wait! Logan I-”

“You don't deserve her! You never did. Probably never will.” He always did need the final word..

“But I love-!”

The door slammed shut.

“... you..”

You're in the house

And I am here in the car

Logan was angry. Hurt. Sad. Confused. Guilty. Was there a word that meant a swirling tornado of feelings that he couldn't control or handle?

Wiping his tears, Logan came down the stairs in a hurry, sniffling as he rushed past anyone who even tried to say his name. Here he was. Tucking and running. He promised he wouldn't but he needed it. He needed to hide. He needed something he could hit and scream at without hurting anyone.

Getting the keys out, he tugged on the door handle multiple times, cursing under his breath as hot tears flooded his face. Finally getting it open, he climbed into the front seat, turning on the radio high enough to drowned out the sound of a man sobbing.

I just need a quiet place

Where I can scream

Gripping the wheel between his hands, he grit his teeth, heaving as he began to hit the steering wheel of their old truck, shaking it as he screamed. Slowly, it died down into more of a whimper. A mewl of desperation as he laid his head on the wheel, letting his tears fall. He was so angry and yet.. had no rage.

Just saltiness in the air as it began to rain, the trickling noises of the rain hitting the top of the car making a symphony of water droplets to cover up the sound of those that were falling inside the car.

How much I love…

Still standing in that office, Alone, Scott looked at the picture again, remembering that day of when he and Logan first met. No.. he was never afraid that he'd hurt him. Not physically anyway.. never caring about his sharp remarks and their childish banter. A tear fell onto the glass, landing directly on his much younger but never clean shaven face.

The only thing he was ever afraid of…

Was losing him.

..You.

[cardboardclownery]

CRASHES THROUGH A BRICK WALL

HI HI IM ALIVE!!!! sorry for the relative radio silence on here ;v;

on the topic of that actually!!!! finally have a proper folie a deux au update for you!! though its slightly different than expected?

me and professional buddy and fellow au creator @cookiecaker decided to share a summary of the story we're making for the au beforehand since we'll be taking a whileeee to finish it,,, got a lot of life to live and horrors to create "-v-

after this though you mayyyy or may notttt see some out of order chapter drafts posted for the story as well,,, or atleast one? eh youll see ;Pc

ANYWAYS!!!! this is gonna take a while so lets get on with...

THE FOLIE À DEUX DOAI AU

a summary!!

or story pitch? idk-

(cookie please lemme know if i miss or improperly describe anything here feel free to correct me-)

PART 1

the first three chapters follow alex just after the end of volume 1 as theyre abducted by lankmann and confined to his asylum as a "patient." eventually they get sent to winfrey as food, but winfrey refuses to eat them. theyre left to die in room 66 by lankmann for a Long While, until eventually he gives up and just puts alex back in their room

while alone in confinement, alex starts noticing strange things happening... dark patches start appearing on their skin, they get random pains as if someone were kicking them, and they hear a voice... a much clearer voice than the ones they used to hear while working in the asylum, and it seemed to be able to read their thoughts. though they originally just assumed it was due to being part of their thoughts as well, they find that they start knowing things they had no way of knowing and never learned prior to being confined. when lankmann typically entered room 66, how long hes inside, certain areas of the asylum patients found that theyd never heard of before...

this "voice" managed to help alex find a way to escape, leading to them running away and moving to another, smaller town in eastridge than the one they originally lived in to avoid lankmann's pursuit

PART 2

[ ! tw for cannibalism. yes you heard me- ! ]

so after getting far away from the asylum, alex assumes that their hallucinations and weird symptoms of... Something would wear off, since subject 02 was no where near close enough to affect them

well uh. nope! theyre still there!!

so eventually alex figures out "oh shit that thing is in my head somehow" and is obviously quite concerned!!! to say the least!!!! but theyre also oddly comforted by the idea of having The Voice in their head, since now theyre not entirely alone while on the run and i mean it helped them escape so it cant be that bad?? either way theyre not exactly excited about the whole ordeal and theyre starting to look different and theyre really hungry all the time and its not fun

so! at some point (with winfreys suggestion) alex decides to run off to another town a bit farther away just to be safe. but Uh Oh theyre all out of food!! so theyre extremely hungry, forcing themself through it so they can get food when they arrive but. they see someone in the woods while walking

and for some reason that makes them even hungrier

they try to ignore it and keep walking but they cant

and the next thing they know

theyre looking down at a person

chewing off the flesh on their leg

covered in blood

even after regaining their senses they cant stop themself from eating. it tasted... so good... they were so hungry... they felt awful but it really did taste so s o g o o d .

in a haze, they discard the body, clean themself off and reach the next town. just after unpacking in an apartment, they collapse, flooded with the emotions they fought off on the way there

the next day, alex finally confronts winfrey (or winfreys voice rather-) about all their grievances and they eventually reach an understanding, as winfrey opens up about fearing the outside of the asylum despite longing to escape through alex, so they eventually agree to let winfrey pilot their body for a few days to get a feel for how the world has changed since the time winfrey had been free

in doing so, winfrey realizes how small and helpless humans are in comparison to them and how terrified the patients they devoured mustve been. this allows them to appreciate human life (specifically alex's) much more and want to escaped in their own body to join alex outside and introduce clyde to what they learned after finding it again

while piloting alexs body, winfrey is suddenly forced back into their own after lankmann inflicts enough pain to wake them from the dissociative state that piloting alex left them in. soon after this, winfrey overcomes the fear that was originally keeping them from escaping the facility and breaks out

PART 3

this section is a lot less figured out than the rest so uhh bear with me please ;v;

essentially this couple of chapters just follows alex and winfrey as they get used to life on the run, figuring out where to go from there and how they could potentially find clyde, along with just talking face to face and getting used to that. its a weird feeling talking to someone that you share thoughts with yknow? like talking to yourself but its... not... yourself...

around the start of this section winfrey also expresses that they feel drawn to feminity as a human concept, thus being referred to with they/she from this point on in the story!! transfem winfrey yippee!!! it just makes sense in our head idk-

PART 4

alex and winfrey start noticing news broadcasts and posters asking around for a "dark figure" lurking around, as well as warnings about alex being missing from lankmanns asylum. this fuels alex's paranoia, leading them to seeing lankmanns caretakers everywhere, feeling as if theyre being watched wherever they go... until eventually their home is ambushed and theyre taken back into lankmanns custody

alex is essentially used as bait to get winfrey to come save them from the asylum, since lankmann couldnt find a solid lead on where winfrey could be. alex tries to convince her not to fall for it, since they can both tell this is what lankmanns trying to do, but winfrey eventually caves and breaks back in to help alex, getting trapped inside once again

PART 5

depsite the circumstances, winfrey and alex do their best to stay determined and keep looking for a way out, but they dont make much progress. to make matters worse, lankmann tries "live feeding" patients to alex in the same way he did with winfrey due to realizing that alex has veldigun traits and assuming that theyd have the same appetite as her. this isnt the case, and eventually lankmann switches to dead patients as food for alex, which theyre forced to accept due to lacking any other options

both winfrey and alex are miserable in the situation, the helplessness sinking in fairly quickly as alexs body begins rejecting the growing veldigun portions of itself, decaying under the immense stress

during their final moments, winfrey pilots alexs body to allow an atleast somewhat peaceful death as their consciousness fades away, leaving winfrey alone to reflect on all that had happened...

...and thats the official end of the story!! i had like,, a hypothetical epilogue/alternate ending where lankmann forces a Mind Merge with winfrey somehow and then gets killed and she breaks out again but like. idk the logistics of that are iffy and i kinda prefer the more melancholy end for something like this ":]c

ANYHOW!!!! hope that was!!! something!!!! please feel free to ask questions or provide feedback or anything else im always happy to engage with my fellow freaks (affectionate) :]

ALSO IF YOU MAKE CONTENT BASED ON THIS AU LET ME KNOW I WILL DIE FOREVER alright thats it for real this time- stay safe broskissss BP

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Franco Barbi - Fluff Alphabet

Summary : Everything is fluffy under the cut ;)

info : I wanted to do a fluff alphabet after a long time and now i have it finally finished have a good fluff reading plus OMG the gif is so cute

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A = Adoration (How does he adore you?)

°Franco loves you with all his little crippled heart, no matter how long it takes for him to see you again. Whether it's between the trials before or after, he always has a little gift for you, which is usually dried flowers, a necklace made of teeth or a special drink that he wants to enjoy with you. ═══════════════════════

B = Best friends (How would he be best friends? How would the friendship start?)

°This strange friendship would start before his time in the Trias, when he was still running around free outside. After he had run away from his father and the wounds still had to heal, he had met you at a tavern when he saw that you drank the same thing he liked and that's how you got to talking.

°As your best friend, he would, in addition to his usual brief emotional outburst, be the one who always had to crack a few jokes before using his ‘charm’ with his gun to get money and make your day together more pleasant. ══════════════════════

C = Cuddling (does he like cuddling?, how does he cuddle?)

°Franco loves cuddling, whether it's before bed, during bed, or when he's happy. If he had a new personal record of sacrifice, he would hug you for the joy of it. To feel you close to him, to have someone with him was the greatest thing for him. To have someone who loved him and didn't push him away was something he cherished.

°When he snuggles, he likes to rest his head on your chest or lean against your neck, wanting to feel and hear your heartbeat. It calms him and, above all, it reassures him that you are still alive and that all this is not a new hallucination caused by the drugs they gave him.

°,,Your heart is reassuring, darling" ══════════════════════

D = Domestic (how would he settle down? How is he at cooking and cleaning?)

°He is like a loyal little dog. If you wanted to settle down with him in your cell, he would do that. If you use the large area of his trial together, he would also take that. He doesn't care where you are, as long as you are by his side.

°Even if he is not a fan of tidy rooms, your word and your trusting look are enough for him to tidy up and take care of cleaning. But cooking – he can make all kinds of drinks, from alcoholic to none at all – otherwise, unfortunately, he is useless when it comes to the stove. ══════════════════════

E = Ending (how would he break up with his partner if they had to?)

°It was an accident. He thought the shot wouldn't go off. He was sure that there were no more bullets inside, but there you were, bleeding and already gone, while tears flowed from his eyes, not wanting to stop. Throwing his gun away in anger, he would hold your lifeless body close and hold it until even the warmth that had once been yours had disappeared.

°,,No...I'm sorry darling...come on I'm good now...don't leave me please" ══════════════════════

F = Fiance(e) (how does he feel about consent? How soon would he want to get married?

°A marriage? Franco would have already got a few rings, of course, legally, organised a priest whom he would convince with a gun and his victims, doctors, nurses and other inmates would be willing to hold a wedding for him and you at any time. It would make him very happy if you would marry him immediately... but he would also understand if you needed time. As long as he was allowed to be with you, anything was fine with the gangster.

°,,My life is yours forever and ever" ══════════════════════

G = Gentle (how gentle is he mentally and physically?)

°Mentally, he is not that gentle. He has experienced a lot and sometimes still suffers from it. His whole being is not gentle. He is rough and disfigured. Yet he would try not to let you see this dark side and would show you his cheerful side. °Physically, he is just a little gnome, a deformity, and yet he knows that you won't laugh at him when he cuddles and kisses you. He thanked you for not showing him his ugly side and therefore always insisted on wearing his suits. ══════════════════════

H = Hugs (does he like hugs? How are his hugs?)

°He loves hugs, he just loves to feel you close to him, he would love to cuddle you all day long and would be perfectly happy. His hugs are stormy and firm, of course he would let go if you said something, but he just loves to feel your body against his and will always do so. ══════════════════════

I = I love you (how quickly would he say it?)

°The first time he saw you, running around in front of his big room and he saw you through the small double-faced windows, he was simply in love. Your look, your smile, the muffled voice through the walls, it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen and would ever see. He would have called after you and tried to make the one small message ring where the same thing was written.

°,,I love you no on is as beautiful as you my heart" ══════════════════════

J = Jealousy (how quickly is he jealous? What does he do when he is jealous)

°He was actually flirting with you all the time, or rather, his comments, praise and kisses not only showed his love but also to others that you were together. But if he even senses the slightest hint that someone wants something from you, he either shoots at it immediately or would strike. He didn't care who it was, the main thing was that the bastard left you alone.

° ,,I think you fucker hasn't understood that the sweet cherry belongs to me, right?" ══════════════════════

K = Kisses (how are his kisses? Where does he love to kiss you?)

°His kisses are endless. He always wants more kisses, even if it feels like he's already had hundreds. There could never be enough, and most of all he likes it when he could kiss you on your lips or on the back of your hand like a gentleman. However, he liked it most when you kissed his forehead just before going to bed, because then he felt protected and safe. ══════════════════════

L = Little ones (how is he with children?)

He is not the best and would be the awkward uncle who doesn't quite know what to do with children. Initially, he was enervated and thought children were stupid, but as he became aware of how interested the little ones were in his tooth collection, he would gradually try to improve and tell them stories of brave gangs. ══════════════════════

M = Morning (How does he spend his mornings?)

°Cuddling. There would be a lot of cuddling before he got tired and grumpy as he would slowly wake up. He would need his milk to wake up slowly, but he would also appreciate it if you told him something and he could just listen. It was truly enjoyable. ══════════════════════

N = Night (how are nights spent with you?)

°The nights when they are not spent cuddling and sleeping would be spent with shared toilsome nights when you would both sit at the table together making ammunition and maybe old music would be playing on the radio, almost like being in a bar. ══════════════════════

O = Open (how quickly would he open up)

°It would take him a long time to open up. Through his patient file, you would know about everything that had happened to him, but in a quiet moment when you would be together, drinking something or lying in his crib, he would gradually open up if you asked him where he had his lupara or the various scars or his childhood. Even if it hurt him, if you held him in your arms, it would definitely make him feel better. ══════════════════════

P = Patience (how quickly is he annoyed?)

°He is very, very, very quickly annoyed and his patience is very thin... if you are not with him, it would be like a short fuse that would go off at any moment if you weren't careful. If you were with him, though, he would be calm and collected. Unless you refused to play a board game with him even though he had learned to follow the rules and hadn't killed anyone yet, then he would be more than just annoyed. ══════════════════════

Q = Quizzes (how much would he know or remember about you?)

°Franco wouldn't know much at first. It was never something he thought about much, but the longer you were together, the more he realised how he enjoyed these little facts about you: what your favourite food was, what your favourite colour was or your favourite animal. From then on, he would always write down what you liked and could use it on future dates or in other ways to make you happy. ═══════════════════════

R = Remember (what is his favourite moment in your relationship?)

°He won't forget the moment when you actually saved him when he was being dragged away from the doctors and his weapon had been taken from him. The pain had reached another level and his pain from the hospital when you followed them, took their weapon and he saw you, covered in blood, when you freed him. ,,Are you okay? you asked and yet all the pain seemed to be gone when you helped him off the table and he just hugged you and didn't want to let go when he knew that you had his heart for more than forever.

°,,You're the best thing that ever happened to me, darling." ══════════════════════

S = Safety (how protective is he? How would he protect you?)

°Very protective, he would protect you from everything, at least as far as he could. He would not let the ten guards and staff get to you, but he would try and would keep trying until he was killed or you were safe. He would protect you with his whole body, regardless of whether he was killed in the process. He had experienced enough to ensure that this would not kill him. ═══════════════════════

T = Try (how much would he invest in dates, anniversaries, gifts etc?)

°He would try to make it as romantic as possible, whether it was a late-dried rose on a table with an almost burnt candle or an old dress with a few stains. Franco was a romantic and would also try to write a poem himself, which didn't always work, but it was sweet.

°,,Well, what I actually want to say...I fucking love you" ══════════════════════

U = Ugly (what would be a bad habit of him?)

°He would be protective if doctors came to pick you up for another vaccination, operation or before a trail, he would not leave your side and would also use his lupara if necessary to protect you from uninvited guests. You should not be harmed and you belong to him.

°,,Mine! She stays with me! And anyone who tries to have her will be cut open from head to toe, understood?!" ═══════════════════════

V = Vanity (how much does he care about your appearance?)

°You could walk around naked and covered in blood and it would be the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He didn't care if you were covered in dirt or blood, he loved everything about you, from the normal prisoner's uniform to the old clothes he tried to find for you.

°,,Angel, darling, mother, you are my muse" ═══════════════════════

W = Whole (would he feel incomplete without you?)

°Yes, you were more than all the others, more than his father, more than his mother and more than anything he ever had. When you're with him, he's happy and cheerful, pain-free and just glad... but if you were gone because you died or were in surgery, he would hardly be able to stand it, would be nervous, aggressive and would try to find you because he just misses something.

°,,Come back...come on sweetie come back to me" ═══════════════════════

X = Xtra (a random headcanon for him)

°He is a friend of ice cream and board games in summer when it is too hot to be in the house, he always looks forward to the portion of ice cream you got to keep from overheating. Plus, if you had a tub of ice cream with colourful sprinkles, he liked to play a good old game and even though he sometimes had a tantrum when he lost again and the dice flew through the air, he appreciated you for always being able to calm him down. ══════════════════════

Y = Yuck (what is something he wouldn't like about his partner?)

°He loves you more than anything. You are the greatest thing he has. The only thing he wouldn't like is that sometimes he doesn't know if he can give you his gun. His Lupara is more than just a memory for him and he would be a little worried that if you waved the gun around like that it might break.

°,,I-I am willing to show you how it works, I promise" ══════════════════════

Z = Zzz (what is a sleeping habit of him?)

°Franco is a light sleeper and also a deep sleeper when you are with him, lying next to him, and he can wrap his arms around you or you can hold him like a teddy bear, you can't wake him up, neither the shrill noises of the big building nor any snoring. However, he is a light sleeper when you are not with him and the slightest thing makes him reach for his gun immediately and call out to you because he wants to know that you are okay and only when he is sure can he go back to sleep.

══════════════════════

@homefander , @millie-milkshake , @youre-gonna-see-a-lot-of-me , @ramontism , @cuddlecow

[f2e5b1]

bitter orange — okkotsu yūta [2/3]

pairings. okkotsu yūta + f! reader/original character (main); past!orimito rika + f!reader; past!okkotsu yūta + orimito rika word count. 3.5k previous

PART TWO: sour grapes

You visit her grave often.

We’re sorry. She was too young. We knew how much she meant to you. Although you knew they didn’t actually care, because they never liked her in the first place. None of them mattered, none of it mattered. You stay in your room most days, walking home by yourself all the time. Yūta stopped talking to you after a couple weeks, stopped waiting for you at the gates to walk home together. You were fine with that; he’s got the ring, you don’t. Eventually, you stopped seeing him all together—it’s as if he disappeared along with her. Good, you hate him less that way.

In your first year of middle school, you start to see… them: deformed and grotesque, a glimpse of unimaginable nightmares that live among the shadows. They were smaller when you were younger, hiding away in small spots and silent and anxious but watching—always watching. They look bigger now, and, as you learn quickly, are very dangerous. Nobody else sees them, though, so you’ve always chalked it up to hallucinations.

But one day, a mysterious man with white hair visits you, calls himself Gojō Satoru and says he’s a “jujutsu sorcerer,” whatever that is. Cursed spirits, he calls them, born from humanity’s negative emotions. A sorcerer’s job is to “exorcize” them—so like a shaman but not really. What’s even funnier? He says you’re one of them—these sorcerers, that there’s this school who’ll train you to fight them, where you’ll meet others just like yourself.

Sometimes, you think of her whenever they’re around. They’re ugly and loud, always spewing indecipherable sentences and crying in the shadows, and they aren’t pretty, but you think of her anyways. It’s a disservice, you think, to have such thoughts, not when she had been so kind and beautiful, and these curses are so clearly not. They don’t have her long brown hair shining under the sun, don’t have her sparkling brown eyes crinkled in delight. Don’t have her smile either, upturned and sweet, with the little beauty mark on the right. And worst of all, they don’t have her voice, a beautiful melody in comparison to their unpleasant wailing. She wouldn’t have sounded like that.

You visit her grave often, but she’s never there. The ichigo daifuku rot on the cement, then get cleaned up after a day or two.

+

Okkotsu Yūta looks too close to death.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he says, hands clutching onto his bag like a sad attempt at a lifeline. When he stands, he visibly slouches, eyebags darker than his unruly hair. His head hangs like he has a noose around his neck, and if you look a little closer, his shadow consumes, almost like a sentient being, an insatiable darkness pooling under his feet. “I’m sorry.”

Funnily enough, it’s comforting.

“I didn’t do it for you,” you say, adjusting the strap of your bag as you walk ahead. He almost stumbles from trying to catch up, but falls within a steady pace a few meters behind.

“... Oh, okay. Um. Still, thanks.”

“I did it because they were being annoying.”

“... Yeah.”

You turn around to face him. “Are you embarrassed?”

He pauses. “What…?”

“Are you embarrassed because you were saved by a girl?”

He blinks, confused, with his wide blue eyes staring back at you. Then, he flushes, a dust of color finally appearing on his pale skin, “N—no! It’s just… we just haven’t talked in a while, so…”

“So, you don’t wanna talk?”

“No… I—... No, I do,” he stammers, as if trying to find his balance in the world. Gone was the energetic Okkotsu Yūta you knew from your childhood, who used to be stricken with adoration for his since-then-dead-fiancée, and now reduced to a gloomy, unsettling, lonely boy who gets bullied in side empty classrooms in his third year of junior high.

He finally catches up with you, having taken advantage of you gradually slowing down. He continues following you to somewhere you don’t even know where, perhaps home, but he follows you regardless. He’s too close, you think, but make no move to push him away. It’s not so bad to only hear your footsteps and the occasional car or two, even if you were making up most of the initial conversation; it’s a scenario that’s comforting, much like the shadow that trails after him. Though you don’t exactly know why it has that effect on you, not when it’s just Okkotsu Yūta—bane of your existence Okkotsu Yūta since you were nine years old. Why one glance at his shadow is like salvation for you is something completely beyond the realm of understanding, but it isn’t as if—

You pause. Oh.

It’s Rika, isn’t it?

“... Your knuckles are bleeding,” Yūta comments quietly, looking down at your hand. You both come to a stop, observing the scratch and cuts on your knuckles before he takes it in his grasp, inspecting it further. “I’m sorry,” he says, annoyingly guilty.

“Don’t apologize,” you say.

“Sorry—...”

He keeps his mouth shut.

You sort of understand now, why he has avoided everyone since then, why he doesn’t fight back even when it hurts, why he always looks like a dead man on the last thread of survival, eyes hollow and skin cold and pale, with darkness following him and darkness consuming him. Whether it be from divine punishment or an unfortunate mishap, at the wrong place at the wrong time, it is clear that Okkotsu Yūta is being haunted by a vengeful cursed spirit, because of course he is.

Of course he turns your first love into a curse.

He drops your hands, adjusts the straps of his bag, and continues walking, unknowing of your revelation. You watch him for a moment, your eyes dropping to the heavy shadow that encompasses him. That heavy, familiar shadow of his—

… And you go with the impossible.

You take his hand in yours.

There’s a pause after that, a sudden change in the air that makes the hairs on your necks stand up, a chill go down your spines, and you think you hear a low growl in the distance, a warning you do not obey. Yūta doesn’t look at you, as if he’s afraid something entirely out of his control will happen, a scene he’s seen countless times already, and yet he doesn’t let go. He grips your hand tightly, instead—afraid and unsure. For you, maybe? You don’t exactly know.

But a few moments pass, and nothing happens. So he relaxes just a bit, heaving out a shaky exhale and then he’s finally looking at you, tired eyes meeting your firm gaze.

Something clicks, then. Like the last piece of a puzzle is found.

And for the first time since Rika’s death, you walk home with Okkotsu Yūta.

+

It becomes a routine. You’d meet by the gates of your school, say nothing to each other, and start walking. After you cross the first street, you’d grab his hand and continue on without a word.

He adapts to it quickly, doesn’t even flinch or pull away. He hasn’t said anything about it, and neither have you. It feels incessant to do so, not when it feels… right. Like a gap has been filled somewhere in your heart, so close to making you whole, but so far it hasn’t really been enough; like you need more, but you’re also fine with this, whatever it is. Rika has been silent this whole time, an anvil of obsession resting on his shoulders that it's almost a good thing; she’s always been a jealous girl, so it’s nothing short of a miracle that she hasn’t even ripped you to shreds just yet. She knows you know she’s there, watching you—she has all the power to take you away from him, and you’d let her. You’d let her do anything to you if it comes down to it, really.

Yūta reeks of death, still, but you don’t mind anymore. It’s Rika, and that’s all that matters. You know it’s her because who else can it be? If Yūta’s being haunted by a cursed spirit then you would’ve long since exorcized it the moment you saw him—but who was the one who saw her get hit by a truck right in front of him, saw her bleed to death as she called out his name in her last breath? Who was the one who screamed out her name, begging for her to come back, to not leave him and was traumatized to hell and back at the sight of her small body crushed to nothing, the sound of her bones cracking underneath the pressure?

Who was the one who turned her into a curse?

You hate him for it, sometimes, for keeping her away from you, for not telling you. She’s a cursed spirit—but does he even know that? Does he know that there are people in this world capable of eradicating her? Does he hate it? To have her attached to him like a conjoined twin, so inseparable it makes you drown in your own envy, the green-eyed monster who has risen from the depths of your heart now that she is here. Is he afraid of her? Of what she has become? Of what he has made of her?

You aren’t. You love her, after all.

But he’s the one she haunts, because she loves Okkotsu Yūta. He wears the ring even now, buried deep under his shirt, and connected to his heart. You’re close enough to rip it away from him, leave him bleeding with nothing to hold onto the memory of her. But you don’t do it, even though you still hate him just a little bit without really ever doing anything about it; your heart is not so fickle to forget what he had stolen from you.

“What highschool are you going to?”

You slow down. “Why are you asking?”

He looks at the ground. “I don’t know—I just wanna know, I guess. Have you taken any entrance exams yet?”

“I’ve already decided where to go.”

“Oh… to where?”

“Still here, in Tokyo. It’s a religious private school, but it’s all the way up the mountains.”

He pauses. “I didn’t know you were religious.”

“It’s Buddhist.”

He’s silent for a while, thoughtful. And then he looks back at you, dark eyes boring into your own. “Did they give you a scholarship, or something like that?”

“Something like that,” you pick up the pace, and he’s forced to follow.

“Is it related to kendo? I didn’t know that religious private schools offer that kind of scholarship—especially those by the mountain-side… Isn’t that too rural?”

“Why do you think of kendo?”

His eyes flick over to your shoulder, where your cursed weapon usually sits in lieu of your school bag. This time it’s absent, since it’s mostly useless now that you’ve figured out your technique. “You always walk around with this long bag—like it could fit a shinai or something. Isn’t that what it is?”

“I guess so,” you don’t elaborate further, he doesn’t ask anymore questions.

Truthfully, you don’t know what to do. You’re elated at the fact that Rika has always been here, although silent and brooding and definitely now a dangerous entity capable of destroying a whole nation, perhaps even a Special Grade, what with all that cursed energy bursting forth from the seams of Yūta’s shadows that you can now sense from a mile away, but at the same time you find that you don’t really care that a powerful cursed spirit has been plaguing this city for years—not when it’s her.

All you know is that you don’t want to be the one to exorcize her.

You probably won’t be the one to do it anyway.

+

A month before graduation, Yūta tells you that he doesn’t want to say goodbye. As he speaks, you notice that his grip on your hand feels a little tighter than usual.

“Why not?” you ask calmly, though you think you’re doing a bad job at being nonchalant.

You don’t wanna leave Rika, either. She hasn’t shown herself to you yet, mostly remaining somewhere within Yūta without a single peep or squeak, but you think it’s better that way. You’ve long since resolved that you’re alright with being near her without actually seeing or confirming if she’s really there, not when you can feel her through Yūta anyway. It’s enough for you.

But he’s not looking at you, instead adamant at finding what’s so interesting about the ground. Somehow, he trusts you enough to guide him as you walk, to look out for poles or signs or walls that could hit him. You don’t exactly know how to feel about that information, so you store it away for another time.

“Okkotsu?” you call when he doesn’t reply.

“Yūta,” he’s looking at you now, hair falling over his dark, blue eyes.

“What?”

“You can call me ‘Yūta’,” he clarifies. “Ume-chan.”

You pause, slowing down to a halt. He gets a few extra steps ahead before he’s forced to stop, looking back at you curiously. Since when had he gotten such confidence? Last month he had just been a bumbling, timid boy, so much so that one misdirected glare from you could send him freezing on the spot.

“Okay,” you breathe out. “Yūta.”

He smiles, giddily, but then the atmosphere darkens just a little bit. He quickly falters at this, smile disappearing almost as fast as it appeared. He grips your hand tighter, looking down at the ground once again.

“Are you scared?” you ask.

He shakes his head weakly, looking up. “No…?”

“You’re lying,” you say.

Yūta looks down again. You wait for him, feel the coldness of his skin, and the slight chill of the weather.

“I want to go with you,” he finally admits. “I don’t wanna go somewhere you’re not.”

And you’re quiet, the silence filled in by the sound of people from the playground just a few miles ahead. Yūta gains the courage to look up to you, to see your reaction, hoping you aren’t too angry even though you hold so much hate in your heart for him. He knows that, at least.

(But you’re holding his hand, aren’t you? You fight his bullies, knuckles red and bruised, even though you don’t need to. You stay with him, even though you don’t have to. You make his life a little bit easier, even if you don’t really want to.)

“Why?” you ask, face betraying nothing, just plain curiosity. “Why do you say that?”

Yūta thinks that maybe he is afraid of her sometimes, even if he doesn’t want to be.

So he says, “It’s quieter when you’re around.”

He must have said something wrong for you to suddenly let go of him.

“I’m sorry—“

But then you take his hand again, not intertwining it, but settling it within yours so he can feel the warmth of your touch, like you never even let go in the first place.

“Don’t apologize,” you command, like you always do.

“… Okay.” And Yūta listens.

You squeeze his hand. He holds on to it tighter, like letting go once again will mean letting you go, and yet he’ll have to do that in a month anyway even if he really wished that isn’t the case.

“You can’t come with me,” you say, like it’s final. “That school… it doesn’t suit you.”

He searches for something in your eyes, and finds nothing. “Why not?”

Because they will kill her, you think. They’ll kill the both of you, and then you’ll be alone forever.

“It just won’t,” you say with finality.

“Okay,” he says, staring at you thoughtfully.

Your available hand reaches out to adjust the scarf around his neck, adjusting it so it hangs more loosely around him instead of tightly like a noose. The teal fabric bunches up in your hand as you move it around, patting it down before you find his dark eyes boring into yours. The spring chill caresses his face gently, softly swaying the unruly spikes of his hair as he watches you tend to him, the way you make him feel like a burden but he doesn’t mind if it's you.

You eventually finish with your work, moving on to continue walking home.

The silence disappears, because Yūta’s heart is too heavy with want.

+

There’s a few things that happen when you dream, but it mostly goes like this:

There’s a bench in the middle of a white void and a huge cherry blossom tree behind it, petals slowly falling onto the ground and covering it in a mass of light pink. Just a few feet in front of it is a koi pond, filled with differently colored koi that make them seem like a bunch of koinobori instead of the actual thing—black, red, white, yellow, green, and blue koi. You’re sitting on the bench, an unopened box of three ichigo daifuku sitting on your lap as you observe the fish swimming inside the relatively small pond.

It always starts this way when you dream of Rika; things change very little and progress nothing. But you find comfort in it either way, as it remains to be the only way you can see her, deep within your REM sleep where nothing in the world can disrupt it.

She eventually appears from the other side, sitting next to you without a word. When you turn to face her, she’s a bit visually different from the last time you saw her in reality—coming up to your height, her brown hair is just a little bit longer, but instead of her familiar dark blue dress, she wears a normal uniform from a normal high school you hope to get into. In your dreams, Rika has continued growing alongside you, blessed and healthy and happy. In your dreams, Rika is alive.

“You’re so sweet, Ume-chan,” she praises, taking the box of ichigo daifuku you offer her. “You always know what I want!”

Of course you do.

“Anything for you, Rika-chan,” you respond fondly.

She giggles, the soft lilt of her voice like an enchanting melody you’ll never get sick of. You like it. You like this. You like her.

When you take her hand in hers, she doesn’t protest, instead squeezing yours in return as some form of quick reassurance that yes, she’s here, and she’s right next to you. The both of you continue sitting on the bench for who knows how long, staring into the small pond with the colorful koi without uttering a single word—a serene silence that cannot be measured by time passing, every flick of the fish’s tail, the fall of the petals from behind.

Your dreams always start like this, and end like this. It’s not much, but you’ve long since found contentment in what this fantasy can give you, long since convinced yourself that anything is fine as long as you get to see her.

You close your eyes, preparing for the dream to finish up, to miss the warmth of her hand in yours and wake up to another day without her—but it doesn’t end there.

“Ume-chan?” Rika calls, slowly.

Your eyes open. “... Yeah?”

She’s properly facing you now, torso turned to your direction with this impassive expression. You watch her stare at you, mapping out her features, the curve of her nose, the length of her lashes—something, anything that could tell you that this could all be real, that this is not just a dream. That Rika is still alive and not merely a figment of your imagination, stuck behind the bars of your subconsciousness. Because all you are is a liar, and not once were you ever content with just seeing her here.

You just want her back.

Rika brings her palm up to your cheek, caressing your face with her tender touch. “Don’t cry, Ume-chan,” she says in her soft voice.

You didn’t even realize you were.

“I love you, Rika-chan,” you all but practically sob, leaning into her hand. It’s warm, it feels so real. “I love you so much. Please come back to me.”

Rika just smiles, wiping away your tears with her thumb. You can’t breathe, vision foggy from your tears and panic rising in your chest when her figure becomes nothing but a blurry mess in front of you. You reach out to her, knowing deep down that you’re just grabbing onto loose threads but—

Then, you wake up.

+

Yūta looks at you with wide eyes.

“... You’re bleeding!” he stammers, breath quickening as he stumbles away from you in a fit of fright. “Rika—Rika-chan attacked you…!”

He cowers away into the corner of the classroom, head in his hands, begging the world for nothing else to happen, for Rika not to come out and lunge at you again like she did with all his other bullies, like you’re one of them. Idiot, idiot, idiot Yūta! He should have seen this coming, should have known that nothing will stop Rika from endangering anyone, not even you. He can’t lose anyone again, not Rika, not you—especially you—he can’t take another loss anymore.

But when Yūta gathers enough courage to see how you’re doing, he can’t fight the surprise that crawls up his throat.

Because as you’re sitting there in front of him, fingers gently grazing the nasty gash on your cheek, staring back at him so quietly it’s too suffocating, and he feels so guilty, so miserable—

And yet, you’re smiling.

next

[harukamitsuki]

Ur soooo right abt Lance I think he just became the fandom’s darling because people saw inklings of insecurity and home sickness and zeroed in. He’s whump bait, but like without the more complicated issues tied into Shiro, Allura, and Keith’s problems. Prime projection material.

He has potential and I appreciate fandom’s ability to see that in him, but you’re so right that people have completely forgotten who he is in canon. He *could* have been better, but he wasn’t and it’s frustrating that people have lost sight of that because I think it would genuinely produce more interesting takes on his character and role in the story. As someone who genuinely wants him to be a better character it makes me want to eat dry wall.

Lance, first and foremost, is the everyday man. That's why he's so popular. He is far from a piloting prodigy, flirts with every pretty girl, funny and exaggerative, has a generic weapon like a rifle, is the first paladin to find his Lion, and has the most basic interal conflict there can be. Which is why everyone loves him.

Shiro? Shiro is confirmed gay, was hailed as the most promising pilot pre-canon, was officially the youngest man sent into space, but also had an illness for canon forgot about it, had major PTSD that left him unable to move in most cases, considered himself broken if his hallucinations said anything, and literally died. He's good leader matieral, able to handle a group of four wildly differing teenagers and only really let his emotions plan his course of action once (when Allura was kidnapped). This man is insanely skilled but also insanely traumatised.

Keith? Keith beat all of the records Shiro set and was known as a genius in the field, only held back by his defense mechanisms and rushing on ahead. He was abandoned by his mother when he was a toddle, then his father died implicitly before his eyes, he was then an orphan where he was probably passed around from family to family, ot feeding into his adandonment issues. He gained a friend in Shiro, the first person to reach out to him, and then lost him a few years later. He finally gets Shiro back, only for more shit to happen. He finds out his mom was Galra, and becomes sorry that he even existed because of this. Nobody on Voltron actually felt like his friend with Pidge constantly calling him a loner right after he lost Shiro, Hunk poking fun at his Galra genes, and Lance playing up this one-sidedly rivalry and taking everything he does as an attack on his person. He loses Shiro again and has to constantly give him up for the sake of Voltron and the universe. The only time he can focus on himself is when Shiro is back and he distants himself for the team's sake and they just let him go. He's so affected by grief before the story starts and it doesn't give him a break. Even so, he's so kind and genuine about everything. He becomes the Black Paladin, not because he had no choice. Maybe at first, but he grows into that role and becomes a great leader.

Pidge? Pidge is a prodigy and a genius, able to hack firm and software from alien planets. She can fly a jet just from reading instruction manuels and have little to no trouble. At the same time, lost her brother and father all at once. When she finally got some clue as to what happened to them, she was kicked out and banned from the Garrison. She disguised as a boy and snuck in, abandoning her dream of becoming a fighter pilot because navigation would teach her more about scanning space for extraterrestrial communication and lifeforms. When she finally has the chance to find her family, she has to constantly give them and clues she may find up because Volton and the universe come first.

Hunk? Hunk is just as much of a genius as Pidge, even if the writers forget, with him able to spot foul play on an alien ship easily. He's so kind and loving yet fierce with his protection and so strong when defending his friends. He keeps spirits high with his warming attitude, even if he's the most home sick of them all. He acts the most realistically to become a child soldier. Still, even when he's terrified, he pushes on so that people like Shay can find out what freedom is. Feel it for themselves. When they go back to Earth, Hunk is the only one who has to fight to get his parents back and earn his happy ending. He suffers throughout the series, but he's always looking at the greener side.

Allura and Coran? They lost their families and thejr entire species before canon ever began. They lost so much and have nothing but revenge fueling them. They have to deal with the fact that they slept through the massacre of the Altean species and woke up far too late. They have to deal with inexperienced humans who have no real attachment to the war. They have to deal with the fact that they are the last of the Alteans. And when it's finally revealed that there are more survivors, they have to deal with the fact that they're being farmed by Lotor/Honerva for their quintessence. Allura was so depressed in season eight after falling for Lotor then being used so thoroughly by him. Coran never got to say goodbye to Allura before she died. Despite this, they still fight with all they have, making sure nobody has to face the loss they've felt.

Lance? Um. He's insecure about his place in the team? I guess Veronica nearly died but she didn't so whatever... He did spend a lot of his time in the Garrison being compared to Keith... But he also spent time he could've used to better his skills to sneak out and flirt with girls or hit the arcade. Um... I guess...

Um. Yeah.

See, I always wonder how people see such angst potential in Lance, or even see him as an angsty character in general. They act as though he's suffered the most in canon when, in reality, he hasn't. He has the most generic troubles and, I guess, it's more relatable that way? People don't have to struggle to relate to PTSD or abandonment issues or identity issues or child soldiers or losing your entire species.

Insecurity? That's easy because everyone feels insecure.

Which is why Lance is so popular.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying this isn't valid. It sucks to feel insecure and doubt your every move. The only difference is how common Lance's issues are compared to everyone else. Because Lance is generic as hell, people love to vent through him.

Lance has a stable friendship group, is constantly given everything he wants, and even manages to destroy what has been the canon ship over decades (Kallura). He invented a rivalry with Keith, who didn't even know who he was when they met. Because of that, people either ship them for the 'rivals to lovers' trope or hate Keith and act as though Keith was bullying him. Shiro doesn't take Lance's side often because Lance's ideas are dangerous or reckless. He still tries to let him down gently, making logical arguments (see: Shiro explaining that Red is fire-resistant so Keith has to go to the BOM HQ). Oh, but he's not on Lance's side so the fandom decides he's an awful leader. As if they know what a good leader is. They think a good leader is someone who gets distracted by a pretty girl and blames everyone but himself.

The only thing not given to Lance on a silver platter is Black. Thank God. But because he wasn't given Black when he was given everything else, fandom decides that DreamWorks hates Lance and decides to argue that Lance was always destined to be the Black Paladin. Ignoring how Black's colour scheme was LITERALLY ON KEITH'S CLOTHES.

So. Yeah. He definitely has potential before DreamWorks just started rewarding him for breathing. The insecurity he has could have been a good way to develop his character. He could have become someone outside of Keith or Shiro's shadow. He didn't need a love interest to prosper, as proven by the fact that he never prospered in canon.

His potential was there, just ignored because the writers were allergic to complex characters, even to the smallest degree.

(They should have gotten the writers for Race to the Edge to do Voltron ugh)

[darlingofvalyria]

As lovers, you and Aegon were the best. As exes, you and him might be the actual worst. But he can't help himself, and you're powerless to your own desires. A Halloween Party, more than hard liquor, and glances that attempts to stifle stares of want— everything comes to a catalyst.

╰┈➤ PROMPTS ❝ INTOXICATED, DOM/SUB DYNAMICS ❞

[ +18 MDNI ] [ 2,359 ] [ masterlist ] | Modern!AU Aegon Targaryen II x F!Reader

contains— smut, angsty - exes to lovers, frat parties, college au!, possessive, cheating (not you or aeg), intoxication - messy sex for the messy exes, sorta toxic if you squint - petnames: sweet angel, sweet girl, sweetheart - mention of drug usage, slight hint addiction - nsfw: fingering, overstimulation, marking, dubcon + enthusiastic agreement, degradation, praise kink, dom!aeg— dom/sub dynamics, daddy kink if you squint, creampie - no betas.

a/n— hopefully this works for the request! it's a little... sadder and smuttier, but hey! ahahah! this is why i don't do daily kinktober. as an overwriter, it's just not possible to be quick jsdhjsh. comment, reblog & like at will, mi luvs, mwa!

It starts with, "Don't look, it's your ex."

And you pause. You freeze. You physically feel the adrenaline course through each and which way vein in your system, finding the end of your epidermis and hairline. It's a lot and you still have yet to land your eyes on him. The punch you've been offered not long ago that's slowly been condensing between your fingers register in your brain as cold, a drink, alcoholic— that you toss your head back and chug.

You sputter and choke afterward, your friend slamming her hand on your back in sympathy. "F-fuck. That's gross."

"Dude," she nervously giggles. "I don't think you were supposed to throat shot that."

"It tastes chemical, like chugging a nuclear reactor. I don't recommend it either." You exchange each hand to wipe the wetness on your skirt and holding your glass, trying to settle your nerves. "Where is he?"

"Got waylaid by two frat brothers, Dumb and Dumber, I think... think he's chatting up— yep, Frat President, with... an Olsen Twin on his lap. Fuck. I'm sorry, bestie."

You try to laugh but it comes out strangled. Because of course. Aegon is a pretty comet who streaks by, just as pretty and just as infrequent, coming to pass like a godly miracle and people just devours him.

Because he's Aegon, always the shiniest star, the bestest friend, somehow everyone's first something. First kiss, first messy hookup, first 'and he did this thing with his tongue, oh my gods, I saw five stars and the moon!', etcetera.

You aren't his first love and you sure as shit aren't going to be his first heartbreak. You wonder how many heartbreaks it'll be tonight; there's a running tally of three heartbreaks within one party, a fantastical rumour, a proud, mysogynistic chidding between male friends— before you got together with him, before your sphere ever clashed with Aegon Targaryen when he too was just a comet to you, a moon, an asteroid— always on orbit but always outside, unknown to the taste of his lips when he giggles between kisses, nor the pretty sighs when your fingers find the bulge in his pants.

Fuck. You're getting teary and you're in your first Halloween party since breaking up with Aegon. You got dressed up and had gotten your makeup done by your more creative friend.

You need to stop wasting emotions and cruelly painful thoughts for the star haired boy.

"Fuck it. Where's the hard drugs?"

Your friend snorts. "I'm not letting you do hard drugs. I am going to do very nice grass with you from very nice people on the sofa already hallucinating."

"Fine. But we're doing shots."

Aegon didn't see you the first time he arrived, but he will always, always find you in a crowd.

It's your laughter that triggers it this time, a sound embedded in his bones that he turns like a dog at the sound, as if finding his master. And then you're there, loose and happy, his heart stuttering at the pure joy and fun in your face, in your body, as you swayed slightly the beat, holding a freshly emptied shot glass.

He swallows. Fuck. You're still so pretty.

Your makeup is done sharper, your lips glossy and bright— a cherry red. His mouth watering when you pout dramatically at your friend, the pulsing lights caressing every dip and bow, every curve and edge of you. Your hair is loose, framing your face with a fake, paper halo over your head that sparkles in glitter, matching the body glitter across your shoulders and collarbones, even the peeks of your thighs under the white, silk dress that, with a jump in his throat, has his cock standing at attention.

He knows that dress.

He remembers the ghostly echoes of the lace detailing atop your chest, how it feels under his palms when he skates his hand over to squeeze your tits, the feel of the silk against his stomach when you lean over his body as your pussy flutters, clenching, while you roll and grind against him, trying to find pleasure—

"Fucking hell," he downs the punchy, mysterious liquid that's just straight vodka with rum, soda and strawberry syrup (absolutely disgusting but good enough for college students on a Friday), because he's fucking hard, and you're just there, oblivious, dancing, looking gorgeous, and his heart is aching. You're everything he's ever want, desired and should have kept better care for— fuck all the arguments, all the fights, all the stupid little reasons that he can't remember anymore why you two broke up —

And his stare is heated, penetrative, because the next thing he knows you're looking back at him. A thread of swallowing gaze, of empty thought but the baseborn sound of a Halloween party and two people who can't look away. Their past is twisted between them, their future uncertain, but their present is here and the want is certain.

The shared heat is gone when a hand is on his shoulder and he is forcibly turned. Qoren Martell shakes his head, lips turned down.

"No, dude. That's a bad idea."

And Aegon smirks because that's what's expected of him. His fingers tingle as he clench and unclench them. He can't be seen mooning over an ex.

"Not if she wants it."

It's a douchebag reply, an Aegon Second of His Name reply, but Qoren knows him better than that, even Jason who's not even looking at him, staring at Solana who was grinding against some frat bro from Beta Theta while staring directly at him.

Aegon snorts when Qoren smacks Jason's head.

"So that's why you didn't bring Johanna, you fucker." Aegon takes another beer, itching for the paraphernalia hot in his pocket. You've turned away and the itch is back, low but steady.

Jason shrugs. "I don't know what you mean."

"I am not babysitting both of you, motherfucks," Qoren mutters. "You're both responsible of your mistakes tonight I'm meeting Somi tomorrow and neither of you messy fuckers are going to ruin that for me, alright?" With that, he slaps a hand on both of their backs, making Jason curse as his beer spills.

When Aegon watches Qoren leave, he turns back to you and see you're already staring, irises too wide, full lips slightly open, and the thrum of heat, nice and striking, runs down his body.

He's going to fuck you. Or you're going to fuck him. It's set in stone, written in fate's ink. When you move away, his stare hooked on you, he smirks the moment you turn back to see if he's still watching, starving, and cocking your head as if asking,

Not going to follow?

But of course he does, it's you and him.

It doesn't start with a kiss. It's a hungry stare meeting in a bathroom mirror spotted by dry water, and he knows what you need, taking your hair in his hand as he stands beside you, tugging you toward him as a gasp leaves your lips, your hands winding to his hips, anchoring yourself.

"How much have you had?" he asks, moving his hand to your neck, stroking the edge of your jaw, watching your wet lashes and licking lips. "Come on, sweet angel." His other hand moves to the edge of your white silk, running his nails across your thighs.

"Does it matter? I want you." A breathy whimper leaves your lips as his mouth latches on your neck, tugging your hair to the side to start sucking bruises as his hand finds your panties and a groan rips out of him.

"You're this wet, sweet angel? All for me?"

"I was grinding on, hhh— Jon, don't flatter your—" You yelp, a sounding slap on your wet cunt and your wetness clings to his hand. You squirm in his hold, but he tightens, cupping your centre with his thick hand.

"This is my pussy," he hums sweetly, cheekily, but you know better. Aegon got sweeter when he was jealous. He smiled brighter when he got angry. He goaded when he hears warning in someone's voice. Daring them. Daring you. "How fucking dare you let someone— Snow, that creepy, depressed asshole, really, sweetheart? — my pussy?"

A flash of heat in your eyes meets his mullish blue gaze. Heat and hurt. "We've broken up, Aeg. You don't get to own me."

His heart thrums, head swimming— but not much as yours. You don't do drugs as hard as him, and you've been hitting something tonight. Your irises are wider, blacker even when you're turned on. You kept wetting your lips even as slick already covers your gloss. With a hum, he thrusts two of his fingers inside without preamble and you keen, arching against him as he kept a steady, fast pace, using the meat of his palm every few chuckles to rub your clit until your leg shakes.

"F-fuck, fuck, Aeg—" Your hands hold onto him for dear life as you feel your orgasm tide but he doesn't let up, continues his humming with his fingers, his mouth sucking your neck until you feel slobbered through the haze, until it starts to hurt with your overstimulation, forming bruises continually sucked on— and you cum again, too fast and too painful the second time. Pushed rather than pulled into the peak and he coos as he slows once you start crying out, tears in your eyes, mouth agape, patting your pussy and even you can hear the squelch.

His last pat is more of a slap, making you jolt and wail.

He smiles as he meets your watery gaze in the mirror, leaning back against the tiled wall to pull your skirt up, bracing you against his knee so you can see your wet and abused fluffy folds.

"What'd I tell you, darling? This is mine. Even she recognises me when you couldn't. For being an angel, you sure do got a mean streak."

You sniffle, nodding along in your hazy mind. "S-sorry. I'm sorry, Aeg."

"Aw, it's okay, only hurt my heart a little." He gives you a sweet peck on the cheek, fingers running down the wet path of freshly forming bruises on your neck. "I've missed you s'all."

"Me too. I-I've missed you too, baby," you say, eyes burning as you blink at the sincerity, smile turning a little softer, more real. "Wanna feel you."

"You already did, sweets, you did well too. How many special grass have you had?"

"Just okay." You twist in his hold, his knee straightening as you turn to him with your hands on his chest, looking up, pouting. "But I want you."

His cock throbs and you feel it against your thigh, but his face remains neutral, tinged with amusement as if he doesn't want to hoist you and fuck you into oblivion.

"It seems such the angel has forgotten her manners." He presses his thumb against your lip until he pushes it deeper, pressing it against your tongue before letting you suck on it, lashes fluttering.

"That's not what we say when want something. Use your words properly, baby," he mock, heat sizzling inside you, cunt throbbing. Though pleasing him has always been how your dynamic works, enjoying the way your mind blanks, filled only with the desire to be his sweet girl, his good girl while he relishes in dominating you.

Physically manhandling you was one thing, puppeteering your wants to mould his was another.

Loss of control was a soft tissue in Aegon's armour. And though you had gotten close, he had never opened up that part of him.

It was one of the reasons you broke up.

Your intoxicated-addled mind comprehends that, to a level, this is bad, but b, he's close, distracting you with his presence, his thumb on your mouth a familiar action, and you never get just one orgasm from Aegon so it doesn't linger long. The thought vanishes like a salt-licked ghost from a too recent past before you're holding on his hand and you're smiling sweetly.

"I want you to feel good too, Aeg," you whisper. "I want your cock inside me."

And he smiles— won, lost, who knows anymore. "There she is."

The next events are truly hazy. All you can remember is that he's close, closer than he's been in months, in you and stuck to you, snapping his hips against yours while your legs are up and jelly, bunched up in his arms while you hold strong against the wall.

The world is mush of thought, tongue, and messy kisses that are more spit and moan between your familiar, favourite cock driving into you again and again. A steady, almost sweetly, rock of his hips driving into that spongy, hard part of you that makes your toes curl and the pleasure to overwhelm. There's sweat and there are tender presses of his lips on your face when you both calm down, almost too sweetly, too needy for the Aegon that you know.

But every time you're about to come down from that high, he's rocking into you again, squeezing your thighs, your tits, using the mess of your cum and his to rub against your clit, and you're gone again.

The pleasure, driven again and again, wipes your memory of the more tender words he murmurs against your skin.

"L-love you so much, baby, god, you don't know how much I've missed you."

"You cumming again? T-that's a good girl, so sweet f'me, fuck, so good."

You don't know how you got to the room the morning, but you're dry and clean and the morning is stale but not head pounding. And you wake up alone, no trace of Aegon at all.

If it wasn't for the trail of bruised kisses against your throat, the throbbing between your legs, full of shared cum when you dip a finger in— you could've said he was nothing more than a ghost of the past, a pretty little dream.

Hooking up with your ex ends with a toughened heart, too empty to cry as you read a message from him.

BLOCK HIM: i'm sorry.

[http-finnick]

𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫.

finnick odair x fem!reader

summary: he said he'd be better, that he'd stop going to her for help and turn to his wife, but you stopped believing his lies a long time ago.

cw: emotional cheating

"you don't understand"

"tell me! make me understand!" your throat hurt, your eyes burn as you scream at him. completely done with grief passing and acceptance ready to take its position

you just can't anymore.

not with him. not with anyone.

"just give me time" "10 years! I gave you 10 fucking years how many more do you want!"

"why can't you work with me?" he yelled, slamming his fist into the island table that separates you.

.

being a wife to a victor isn't always easy.

it might seem like a comfortable life.

but it's anything but that.

you were childhood friends, lifelong buddies. when he got reaped it broke you but you still were there for him. always hearing him out, never pushing him when it wasn't needed, you were always there for him.

when she got reaped the next year and won, finnick went to you with relief and dread all over

"she could've died." "that would've been on me"

"all of those tributes are on me"

he wept and wept and you carried him, hugging him so tightly he'd turn blue.

he never really talked about his games. even when you started dating at 16 he'd always keep it short.

you knew it was bad that he hid his feelings but when you tried to help it ended up in a fight and him running off

you'd find him drunk the next day.

but soon he'd come back sober, better, healed.

you had no idea what 360 happened to him, but you were grateful

when you asked him about it he shrugged and mumbled he was talking to someone

finally, he's getting help.

once you found out it wasn't a shrink but a girl, Annie to be exact. you weren't mad, more curious

you asked him why you found out that it was her through town gossip and not his lips, but a shrug was all you got.

"I don't see the big deal here"

your lover was gone. now just some housemate instead of our husband.

you cried in the shower and put a smile on through the rest of your days.

soon it wasn't the games he kept from you and told her, it was everything

even asking what he ate for breakfast was a simple "nothing"

you couldn't stop your sobs that into the pillow, your shaking frame and chokes of breaths that got caught in your throat must've irked him enough to wrap his arms around you

you realized thats the most contact you've had with him in months. he mumbled sorry and promised to be better.

but he wasnt.

years passed and he was not not telling you things, it's just he'd lie about them

you saw him eat toast this morning, so simple, so why'd he say eggs? you saw him pick up roses, came home empty-handed, he said they were for his mother's grave. but her grave was flowerless the next day.

theses little things made the words affair scream in your head, and now you're here, and you've snapped.

.

"finnick. i've been trying to work with you, give you time, help you, for fucking years" you said, voice shaking but calm as tears roll down your cheek

"i've been dying" you added

"you haven't touched me in years, I feel like a failure and all you want is fucking her so go!" you screamed at the end, staring at him straight in his eyes as he looked at you with guilt layered with surprise

"I don't know what you want from me" he shakes his head and your hand slams down on the counter to make sure you aren't hallucinating this bullshit

"the bare fucking minimum! you're supposed to go to me when you feel like you can't go anywhere! you're supposed to go to me when you need someone or just want to be around anyone! you can't even do that so why did you marry me?" you're left in silence as he stares at the floor

"I can't talk to you about this stuff, you wouldn't get it. you didn't go through what I wen-"

"I wish I did. I wish I was reaped so you didn't become this sad mess of a person. finnick, I'm sick of hearing this because you say she's helping you but you're still the same 14-year-old left in the arena." you cry out, he looks up at you with tears swirling in his eyes, jaw clenched as he processes your words

"I'm better, I'm getting better"

"no. no you're not. you'd be better with a real therapist, not someone just as broken as you."

he grips the table and his teeth sink down into his lips, you see the blood pool but you also see the realization in his eyes

"you need help finnick, and I hope you find it." and with that, you grab your coat and head for the door

"s-so what? you're gonna leave me like this? at my worst?" he chokes on his tears, pleading eyes staring at your frame

"you've always been at your worst." you shrug with the last of your tears falling to the floor and walk out into the cloudy air that welcomes you to a new life.

one that you'll be free.

an: hey guys :) I know some of you might disagree with y/n here but it's okay lmao. I really wanted to write angst for nonvictor!y/n x finnick because I feel for her that he went through all of that and she's just there. and having him go to another woman who doesn't help him but just drives him away from real help and his wife, ooo just angsty angsty angstyyyy! also, i really like the name for this one because it goes both ways. y/n will never be better than annie in his eyes and he is never gonna be 100% okay again. anyway, I love you guys so much!

[justevelynnnn]

Black and Purple.

Notes: So now i like Mr. Hitoshi. I used to reallyyy like him a couple yrs ago and ig here we r again🤭 So basically this is gonna be a mini series of mine like idk 3 posts? I don’t wanna call them chapters..

Content: Hitoshi Shinso x afab, Blk!Goth!reader

- You were weird. You’re quirk was weird and so was the music you listen to or how you dressed which, could be blamed on your quirk.

- When you were younger, like up until kindergarten, you were really feminine and pink and peppy. Until you got your quirk.

- When you were 5 it activated for the first time. It was halloween and you dressed up as a witch. Door to door you tried to look as scary as possible. You got to your neighbors house and when she opened the door you stood and did your creepiest face knocking she was terrified of witches. Oh this would be good.

- Hmmm, it was maybe a bit too good…

- She opened the door and screamed. You and your mother were a bit taken aback..you were 5 were you really that scary?

- Turns out the neighbor saw a much more creepier version…

- You later learned that your quirk was meant to play on people’s fears and paranoia causing people to hallucinate or hear things not there. The doctor you saw called it paranoia. So that was it, your quirk was just Causing paranoia.

- Your parents had emotion related quirks too but this? It seemed….villainous.

- Your life changed that day. Kids were scared of you. Teachers too. You only got good grades even if you didn’t try on work. You could do anything and never get in trouble because if people knew what you could do to them it was over.

- You spent most of your life from that day lonely and sad. You always wanted to be a hero but this was just such an obstacle. You started getting darker..

- And this appearance change did not help your case at all.

- Anyways time skip to your UA days. Yes you got in. But not in the way you hoped.

- You were in class C.

- You we’re jealous of the lucky people in Classes A and B. But you felt if you tried hard enough you could get bumped up.

- The first few weeks of school you just sat in the back of the class. You didn’t really speak to anyone.

- However you did start to catch a certain purple hair boy staring at you often.

-One day you finally looked over at him and asked, “What do you want?”

- He shrugged and went back to doing his work.

- You knew him just a little and mostly because his quirk. Secretly you wanted to get to know him more and his quirk. But you had become so anti social you just couldn’t. He didn’t seem the type to strike up conversation either but luckily for you he was interested enough in you to try.

- “Hey.”

- You looked up from packing your backpack as class was over.

-Quirking an eyebrow you wanted to know what this guy wanted now.

- “What do you want?”

- “Careful, i’m trying to be nice here Morticia.”

- “Ok, i’m sorry, but no one talks to me out of nowhere.”

- “Interesting… I wonder why..”

- You rolled your eyes. Was he playing dumb, being sarcastic?

- “How about you? You don’t seem so popular yourself sir.”

- “No i’m not…and i think it’s because of my you know what..”

- “Same here.” You thought about this next part, “Wanna talk about it?”

- He didn’t seem like much of a talker especially about his quirk but he took interest in you so it’s only fair you do the same back.

- To your surprise he nodded. Then he added, “Only if you talk about your situation too.”

- So you two left class and walked around talking about your quirks and how it isolated you both from everyone. You talked about your get up and he talked about why he has eyebags.

- You learned you both had almost the same life, we’re night owls, had the same ambitions and loved cats.

- Before you both knew it, it was dark out.

- “Thanks for talking to me, Shinso. I haven’t said this many words since my junior high science project presentation.”

- He chuckled slightly and thank you back.

- He walked you to the street your house was at and waved goodbye.

- You never had a crush on anyone but Shinso…he evoked a whole new feeling.

- Everyday you two would talk about any and everything. It was so nice to see him open up. And surprisingly he was such a gentleman too..

- The sports festival was coming up and you really wanted to go but said nothing. You saw Shinso signing up one day and asked him about it.

- “You’re really serious about this huh?”

- He just nodded.

- “Well, i believe in you Shin..” You smiled.

- “I think you’d do pretty good out there too yknow. You should sign up. Scare some of those pros.”

- You were shocked. He really believed in you? You barely believed in yourself. You were extremely lacking in the physical department so you were nervous to go up against anyone honestly. You wondered how Shinso was so brave himself. If someone doesn’t answer him it would be over..

- “You really think so??” You asked.

- He just nodded again and handed you the pen as he walked away.

-You stares at the sign up sheet for a bit. And then you did the unthinkable.

- You wrote your name.

- The day came and you were a wreck. You didn’t even do your usual makeup and kept your face bare.

- Shinso noticed your face and patted your back. “You’ll do amazing. Even if you don’t, you tried and that’s saying something right?”

- He smiled. He was not the best motivational speaker but he helped you just a tad.

- When it was your turn you were up against some green haired boy named Izuku. He had just defeated your friend so you were a bit fired up now. You saw all he could do was flick his fingers and send waves of power out which was..odd.

- Your quirk allowed you to see people’s fears and anxieties. You quickly accessed this boy, peering into his life. You saw what he was afraid of. Failure.

- You stared into his soul as the game started and activated your quirk. He started to attack but stopped once he heard, booing?

- He started to look around and see people pointing at him and laughing and booing his name and gagging and and and.. what was happening??? He was frozen.

- Then he heard whispers in his ear. Like the most unmotivatonal things ever. The sky got darker and you started your final move. You snapped your fingers and he looked at you to see your eyes roll back to your head as you smiled your most creepiest smile ever as it started “raining” burning metors. Izuku ran out the ring in pure fear to avoid get “hit”.

- The whole time you just stood there smiling an of course the snapping your fingers part. Once Izuku was out of bounds he saw how reality finally snapped back.

- You won..

- Well you didn’t win in the end, losing to Bakugo, but you got 4th place.

- And still plenty of pros came over to you to ask you how your quirk worked and offered you internships. Even kids from Class 1-A came to talk to you. It was amazing to be seen for once. You were quite popular now in fact.

- Later you heard a voice; “See i knew you’d do great…” Shinso said after everything was over and the room you were in was empty.

- You then ran up to him and hugged him. He was shocked. He wasn’t used to touches but here you were. The most prettiest girl ever, hugging him.

-“Thank you…” You said into his chest.

- He blushed and looked away. “Don’t mention it…”

- “No, really. You just changed my fucking life dude…Thank you so much.” You said pulling back looking him in his eyes.

- He just smiled.

- You held his hand as you two left that day. Your heart filled with joy. It wouldn’t be long before He asked you out finally…😉

More notes: anyways if y’all haven’t seen on my latest post, i started college and i work so i’m like really busy everyday, all the time. So idk the posts r gonna be kinda slow 😭👋🏾 but yeah i’m still alive, i still got my plug!connie and nerd!armin drafts but i’m saving those for when i’m really slumped and can’t put nothing out for a while so if ur waiting sorry 😵‍💫😔 also this is not proofread…

[touyas-multi-purpose-saline]

DAY XIX. — FACE-SITTING

cw: Face-Sitting, Teasing, Attempt at Humor, Fem! Reader. 18+ Only!

author's note: This is for a good friend of mine! I hope you guys enjoy. I think Rappa's very funny.

word count: Approximately 1.2k words.

The door nearly slams off of its hinges, creaking and swaying haphazardly, before a large figure trudges in and closes it—albeit not gently at all. You would have nearly jumped out of your skin, but you’re used to this by now. An aggravated sigh rings around the room before the lumbering figure starts stalking closer. You swivel around on your office chair, hands steepled and brows raised. 

“Everything okay, Kendou?” 

Another sigh of frustration. 

“No. Of course not.” 

Kendou’s answer is curt, and it translates into his movements. He’s quick to tear his mask off and toss it towards a bedside table, and his gloves are clicking and following immediately after. You rise out of your seat carefully, sure not to make too much noise because Kendou becomes a little mean and cold whenever he gets agitated and pissed off. You would tease him usually, but he seems unusually mad. Whenever he notices that you’re approaching him, Kendou’s shoulders sag a little and he meets you halfway. He exhales, but there’s no emotion behind it, and he clasps his hands. 

“Sorry. It’s nothing that you did. I was just tryna do what Overhaul said, but I got duped.” 

You tilt your head, reaching out and placing a gentle hand on Kendou’s forehead. 

“What happened?” 

Finally, Kendou sweeps his hands out in a grand gesture before he flings his body backwards, groaning the entire way down. His back connects to the bed that oh-so thankfully happened to be behind him, and the springs scream out in protest before his body bounces heavily a few times. He’s like jelly, and the sight of it makes your eyes bulge out of your head. Your mouth is open, ready to question him until— 

“It’s that damn new Overhaul’s girl. Everybody thinks she’s Quirkless, but I know the truth! It’s unbelievable the things I’ve seen.” 

Oh, this again. Kendou has ranted about Overhaul’s new sweet thing multiple times now. You’ve not had the pleasure to meet her personally, but you’re not really sure you want to. Apparently she’s managed to convince everyone pretty well… or perhaps Kendou’s just hallucinating. 

“Yes, you’ve mentioned her quite a bit lately. What did she do this time?” 

A strange mix between a strangle laugh and a choked sob reverberates in the back of his throat before he wails his answer out boisterously. 

“Those three blond boys again! She keeps summoning them! And she’s using them to slip past me to escape. The bathtub. The bathtub!” 

You blink. 

“Right, yeah. How could I forget the bathtub?” 

You shift your eyes because you’re not sure what response to supply, but Kendou just emits another strange sound and waves his hands around. 

“Forget the dame! I need some stress relief, babe.” 

Immediately you face him again. 

“Oh?” 

Kendou’s hands flop back down. 

“Yeah. Sit on my face right now.” 

The way Kendou doesn’t ask lets you know that he’s serious, so you don’t even attempt to refute him. He’s impatient, so you’re not even going to have a chance to hop in the shower or anything, so you just wince slightly before you start to peel your clothes off. Kendou tilts his head up a little so that he can watch, and you make sure to wipe the wince off and give him a coy little smile before you teasingly remove your top. Your bra easily catches along, and both articles of clothing are on the floor before your thumbs hook underneath the band of your bottoms and you start to sashay your hips while you lower them down your thighs. They fall the rest of the way to your ankles, but you don’t stop twirling your hips the entire way. Your hands are trailing up your belly whenever you casually step out of your bottoms and stalk towards him. 

Kendou’s already hard—you can see his erection straining against his baggy jeans the closer you approach. Seeing his cock already pulsing to life has electricity tingling underneath your nerves, so you pick up the pace. Your hands are on Kendou’s knees before you tap your fingertips against their curves, and then you start to fondle up his thighs while you crawl up and over him. Kendou loosely lets his hands splay across you, feeling and caressing whatever flesh he can while you cross him. It makes you bite your lip, one incisor poking out and the other rubbing against your mouth. His calloused hands feel terrific on you, the way they hiss, the way they feel so heavy and real against you, the way he grabs you. Kendou’s got your blood boiling, and your coy smile turns a little predatory. You chuckle. 

“You’re so eager, big boy. Have you been thinking about this?” 

Kendou grunts.

“All damn day. I hate being assigned to her. You’re an angel compared to that.” 

His comment sends more thunderstorms crackling down your body, and you moan quietly before you start to shimmy up. You straighten, attempting to fluidly lock your legs around his shoulders and neck without looking awkward. Kendou watches you, those golden hues on his face brilliant and shining. You can see emotions brimming to life in those pools of honey, and you can’t help the heat that blooms in your heart and blossoms out to your groin. Another moan, and your palms are sensually rolling down your breasts, thumbs flicking pert jewels, and then down your abdomen before they reach Kendou’s jawline. He leans into your touch, chest heaving and breath speeding, and your smile returns to its kindness whenever you coo and start to cradle his face. 

“I’ve been daydreaming about having you all day, too, Kendou. Can’t believe we both get what we want.” 

You wink, and Kendou releases a genuine chuckle and he smiles. He looks so handsome, broad and chiseled, whenever he does, and you flutter. Your cunt clenches, and you can already feel glaze smearing along your cunt’s lips. 

“Like a dream come true, doll. Now c’mon, I hate waiting.” 

Impatient like always, but you don’t mind indulging him after such a rough and arduous day. Your toes curl in delight, so you lift up on your knees and slowly ease your way down onto the lower half of Kendou’s face. He soon disappears, lidded eyes open and glossy with excitement. Kendou’s gaze never leaves yours, and the intimacy has you gasping—especially whenever he kisses your cunt. He fondles your lips, pulling and tugging, letting his tongue slip out of his mouth to swipe a few loose licks. Gasps keep slipping out of you, so you bite the inner wall of your bottom lips and groan into sealed teeth. 

He’s fluid like always, kissing you in ways that you would have never thought possible until you met him. That eager tongue doesn’t waste any time cleaning you before his mouth shifts, catching your now throbbing clit into his maw. It’s too much, and you cry out. Both of your eyes squint in ecstasy, but you don’t miss the mirth and twinkle that sparks alive in Kendou’s gaze. You moan.

“Kendou, don’t you mess with me or I’ll—” 

He slurps, cutting you off, and you soon regret your words—

After all, he’s quite the hungry man. 

[fatallyaddictedtofiction]

Im just gonna allow myself to yap about supernatural and see where destiny takes me. SIDENOTE IF U WANNA TALK ABOUT THIS WITH ME LITERALLY PLEASE I WANT TO PLEASE INTERACT WITH ME.

Okay first of all im starting with the start (s1+2). BEST LIGHTING TO MOOD EVER EVER EVER. Like you want dark scary monsters??? ITS THERE. I remember there being a reason they changed the lighting (smugly: yes i listen to the podcast) but i CANT REMEMBER. The characterisation of the macho eldest son coded scared eldest daughter Dean is unreal and parallel in epicness to repressed queer allegory something is inherently wrong with him little brother. The brief moments of emotional vulnerability. Dont get me STARTED on Dean's monologue in the s2 finale i'll start crying. It's crazy how rude john is to Dean like excuse me he raised your kid and now ur bitching about him? Try saying thank you for once. I think the only reason john actually said im proud of you was because he realised when azazel said it dean was like "ur not my dad" and to john it was a little "oh shit" moment. Sam has every right to be angry but every time he gets angry at dean something in me shatters a little because deans trying so hard for himself and sam and sam doesnt know who or how to lash out (emotional dysregulation baybee) so aims for deans jugular like nooo honeyyyy noooooo. This era was the best sam in my opinion.

Rest of the show down here:

Onto S3-5. Cant remember jack about season 3. Season 4 CASTIEL MY BELOVED MY LIGHT MY LIFE MY REASON FOR LIVING. Absolutely loved everything about Weird Cas and i wanted more of him why did they have to domesticate him. His and Deans dynamic was impeccable and yk something??? I wanted to see Dean in hell torturing people i wanted to see it on his face how much he hated that he enjoyed it and i wanted to see Cas' face at watching the righteous man lose. Like the best we got was Yellow Fever GOD I LOVED THAT bit when he was hallucinating the book and it said "you gonna cry?" Like so many people think thats a funny episode but it makes me so sad because he is DYING and from such a young age hes been told to stow it away, lock it down to the point hes HALLUCINATING IT. Cas falling for dean. Im sorry i just. They are the best love story. LUCIFER. He was scarier back then, but i do love later seasons lucy too. Something about the peeling skin and the "we will always end up right here" just slapped. ENDVERSE EPSIODE god so good can we just take a moment to think about it. Okay cool thanks okay. Demon blood Sam arc was fun but had unfulfilled potential. Cant give you specifcs rn its late and my brain needs to get this all out so if you know you know. The whole meta stuff with Chuck was eh until he was confirmed as god and then i was like duuude the faint strings of marionettes are glistening in the sunrise like how do we know --- im getting ahead of myself.

S6-11. I know, its a big chunk. But basically the whole thing could be renamed "Crowley's unrequited love story". Cas and crowley were the best duo i almost forgot like they are genuinely so funny together and i bet it would be great to be tortured by them UMM THE BETRAYAL i honestly loved Cas' episode the only thing i didn't like was how the reveal itself was done like... Idk just a bit... Kryptonite???? Anywho i Loved the tension between Dean and Cas DEAN LOOKED BACK. Um leviathans were my favourite monster but they became so dumbbbb after washing up liquid killed them. BOBBYS EPISODE ALWAYS MAKES ME SOB MY EYES OUT "i raised two boys and they became heroes" allow me to DIE. Also damn impressed a shot to the head didnt take him down but it was lovely to see Deans first world, first solid rock properly crumble around him (forgetting john okay he wasnt a healthy rock) . PURGATORY DEAN JDJSJDJDJD kill me please his fight or flight mode was SO. So sad we didnt get more of purgatory like i would pay to see more i would kill probably but we'll overlook that. Benny my beloved. They definitely all got together Cas included like who wouldnt at that point. Smth i didnt like is how wheneer they went back to purgatory, unlike how dean described it "360 battle 24/7" or some shit like that it was EMPTY. Like please,, i know the plot needs convenience BUT PURGATORY ISNT SUPPOSED TO BE CONVENIENT. But dean recrafting his own memories to make himself believe that he failed to save Cas rather than what he perceived as Cas giving up on him- hang on i dropped my jaw somewhere, gimme a sec i need to go find it-- LIKE. HHHH. The whole mind control shit going on with Cas because his ties to Dean had been severed (saw a post about that and loved it but cant rmb it) and HIM BEING THE ONE TO BREAK IT. The crypt scene mmmm i love. Want more. Mark of Cain dean was literally my favourite. A violent, mentally unstable man who also has bad mental health and is often covered in blood? Yes pls. Cas being with him every step of the way. I havent mentioned Sam in a while. Hes just kind of been there. Hate that he slowly became 2D. Far away in the background hes got his worried expression and is rocking, saying "Dean? Dean? Cas? Jack? Dean?" Like writers why did u strip his personality except for worry. Do Not get me started on the whole Amelia thing ill stab someone. But yeah cas saying he'll watch dean murder the world is my universe :). If someone said that to me id say "omg really?" And develop a huge fat crush (somehow). CHARLIE DYING WAS AN ABOMINATION When they brought back Eileen why not charlie like. Dont bring characters back at this point because theres all sorts of issues grr. Amara was cool af but i didnt like the whole amara x dean stuff because it was just weird. Luciferrrrr hes so girlypop i love him DEAN DIDNT KNOW IT WASNT CAS but thats only because lucy purposefully wore less clothes around him to distract him.

S12-14. Im running out of steam. MARYYY. It hurt to see Sam get along with Mary becsuse he never knew her as anything else while all dean wanted was a mom and that wasnt who she really was anymore. He loved her so much but couldnt break through that barrier of "it wasnt the perfect marriage until after she died" vibes. God that scene in s5 where its suggested dean saw +/ smelled what happened to Mary and he was literally backing himself into a corner BROKE me. Havent mentioned the Wayward sisters but please know they are so important to me they are my everything. Jack is also. Loved Kelly, very sad she had to die. Wanted Jack to be a baby but thats not good for television is it. But i love Jack so much hes such a sweetie who can kill with a thought. Alternate universe michael and Michael!Dean was epic af but michael dying like that was so anticlimactic gonna be honest i think they were just reaching for ways to lose Jacks soul. Garth GARTH!!! Hes so cute. I loved all those "hand recorded" episodes btw like ghostfacers and that one teen wolf type stuff. Dean hiding in his room is so me. Free Will Theory is so fucked up at this point ur sat there saying gods been pulling the strings this whole time and i supposed to be okay with it?? I so get why deans angry but i definitely think thats something Chuck emphasised (crappy excuse for crappy writing) to an extreme level because WHAT. Like dude. I cant even describe how out of character he felt at some times.

S15. Currently rewatching and cant rmb much of it. 3 characters dead in the first 3 episodes. They either kill off all side characters or we dont hear from them at all to tie up or shove away loose ends. I cant even talk abiut the finale please i cant rn im way too tired. It straight up didnt need to exist, it could've only been 19 eps. Cas. Castiel. He did want you my darling.

[angelitaby]

future!leonardo x reader. tw; descriptions of gore, death and peepaw leo angst :3 does this count as a one-shot?

𝐋𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐎 is awake tonight, his arm draped over his forehead. he is completely alone. exception to the low glow of a lamp on his face. complex emotions are unfolding unbidden.

he can hear thumps and cracks from outside the room, familiar to the strong workings and sharp pains of his heart. the ash still rustles, patters, and sighs. it’s a taunting echo of your footfall, every light step a second he won’t get back. leo’s chest pounds louder. the ash storm buffets, his breath colliding rhythmically with the booming of his migraine. it's loud. like an agitated heart. pains and aches everywhere. he hears a snort of laughter. it's not real. it's not... real.

"you're getting old..."

a man filled with delirium from lack of sleep can't help but dream of his lost lover. his vision is blurry, but in the corner of his eye stands a figure, leaning against the frame of the doorway. it's not you. it's not you.

"you haven't been sleeping again, i see."

he doesn't answer, and the blurry figure moves in front of him, ghosting it's fingertips over his jaw like how you used to. cradling his face, running a thumb over his lips.

"what happened to needing your beauty sleep, leo?"

you are long dead, he should not be able to feel these sensations, but his body intimately remembers your touch like a phantom wound. he closes his eyes. and even if he was talking to himself, he couldn't help but respond this time. his voice is broken, it's so sad.

"i'm so sorry..."

"it's okay, leo. you're okay."

it's okay. it's... okay. he's—his eyes open wide, and he jolts up as if he had just been shot. your figure vanishes away like a wisp. and leo is once again forced back into reality. the reality that he will never be able to feel your true touch, and he will never wake up beside your forgiving gaze again. the feeling of you in his arms is something on the list of many things he will never have again. you're dead. and you're gone. it's not real. he has to remind himself. and his mind flashes to the night where he couldn't save you. against his will it replays in his head. flashbacks of you falling granted by some unknown force as an unholy gift.

a fate which made you beg for death. after feeling pressured by the eyes of a true monster peering through you and festering underneath your skin, writhing like worms through your sinews, rippling through your veins and kissing at each inch of the intricate maze under your skin until it threatened to break and face the sun. overcoming you to a madness. it laid itself where it could. your organs. behind your eyes, in your brain. in the deep layers. pulling your limbs apart with the power of a village, gnawing at your flesh to take as its own. with a smell that had made you want to vomit. it was dizzy. you wanted to scratch at your skin until it escaped.

eventually, you were unable to feel it after a sharp stab through your chest. your last heartbeat, your last breath. you began to see hallucinations. unable to see the world for how it really was. you lived in a blissful hallucination for a few moments. living in a distant dream, where none of this happened. a little world where you got to start a family, make a home. where you were safe. safe, because he was there. safe, he always was, leo. it didn't hurt, this dream. you knew it wasn't real, and perhaps it was selfish to feel so... so accepting of death, but fuck, did it feel nice. for once, you weren't in pain. were you smiling?

it was bitter sweet. it was beautiful. your skin split open, blooming outward like petals. blood sparkling like rain as it returned to the dirt. to be consumed by fungi that would continue the decomposition cycle with your marrow in its veins. eyes that were carefully embedded into your skin screaming as leo's ōdachi went right through your heart like cupid's arrow. they all looked at him. taunting. so, so taunting. it was like the kraang was laughing right at his face as it ripped you away from him.... you. you were gone. he felt his limbs go numb, he couldn't breath, he couldn't breath. he—oh, God. he couldn't fucking breath. donatello had to drag him away, but he was yelling the whole time.

and donatello, in an attempt to comfort his brother, he called your death something strange.

he called it... mercy.

[totallyjustabunchofhocuspocus]

Fic preview

A sneak peek of the next chapter of Come Away, O Human Child

“Ali?” he asks, blinking in confusion. For a second, he thinks he must be hallucinating, unable to think of a single reason why Ali, of all people, would be in his hospital room. He’s half-expecting the vision of the Fae woman to dissipate as soon as he acknowledges it…but Ali just stepping further into the room.

“Hey,” she says, tucking a lock of dark hair behind her ear. Her eyes travel up and down the length of the bed, what looks like worry etching itself onto her face. “I—can I come in?” she asks belatedly, glancing over her shoulder as though she expects someone to come barreling in to throw her out.

Buck blinks again, his brain finally seeming to start firing on all cylinders. “Uh, yeah…yeah, of course.” He looks around the room, finally gesturing towards an uncomfortable-looking chair set up in one corner. Ali takes a few steps towards it, but freezes as she enters the room properly, just staring at him with wide eyes for several long, seconds.

Slowly, she reaches up to cover her mouth with one hand, the emerald gleam of her eyes intensifying. “Stars and shadow,” she whispers. “Buck…”

He looks down at the pile of blankets in his lap, unable to maintain eye contact. They’d taken the blankets Maddie had bespelled away when they switched his room, and he desperately wants it back. Hell, he just wants Maddie here with him. The emptiness in his chest aches, and he still feels like he can’t get warm, no matter how tightly he pulls the blankets around himself.

“Guess you can see, huh?” he says, breathing deeply against the lump rising in his throat. Ali’s been nice enough to him—however terrible the things she’s told him and helped him realize were—but he’ll be damned if he starts crying in front of a near stranger.

“Are—are you all right?” she asks, and then immediately backtracks. “Wait, no, stars, I’m sorry…of course you’re not all right, I just meant—”

Buck shrugs one shoulder and forces himself to look at her again. “I’m alive.” A laugh that sounds bitter and colorless even to his ears bubbles out of him before he can stop it. “Apparently that was in question for a while last night.”

He tries to let go of the bitterness…he still doesn’t quite understand what he did or how he did it, but he’d known he was taking his life in his hands the instant he’d stepped forward to try and shield the Devil’s Mouth. He’d known there would be consequences…knows he accepted those consequences.

He just feels so hollow. There’s a piece of him missing and he has no idea how or when he’ll get it back. This…he feels like he’s woken up missing a limb, and he doesn’t know what to do with that. Any of it.

He pushes the dizzying mix of emotions aside for now, looking over at Ali. “Look, it’s, it’s, it’s nice to see you and all, but, uh, what are…what are you doing here?” he asks, as nicely as he can manage.

Ali presses her lips together. “I—you know I don’t know? I’m in town on business, and I saw the news reports this morning. I can’t believe you called a leyline…well, no, I can believe it.” Her expression gentles a little. “Is that how the magic—” She makes a helpless little gesture with one hand, and Buck can’t help a reluctant smile.

“Diminished connection,” he says, his smile dropping as quickly as it appeared. The words do not hurt any less to say than they had to hear. “I can’t…I’ve got nothing right now. I can’t even feel anything.” He waves a hand towards the healing runes sketched on his arms.

Ali frowns at that. “You drained yourself completely?”

“That’s what it looks like. The doctors said they won’t be able to do anything to help the DMCD until the backlash shock heals.” He grits his teeth, forces his voice to be steady as he says it. He needs to be able to do that, needs to be able to hold it together when he talks about what’s happened. He cannot break down. God, he doesn’t know how he’ll put himself back together if he loses it now.

And he has to keep it together. Maddie must be going out of her mind with worry, and once the Fae catches wind of what he’s done—

Wait.

Wait.

He looks up at Ali again, a sudden, electric surge of hope sweeping through him. “I’m a changeling,” he blurts out, before he can think the better of it, before he can second guess himself.

The words come with no issue. His throat does not close up. His voice does not fail him.

Ali’s frown deepens, and she glances uneasily around as though worried they might be overheard. “What? I know that.”

Relief so intense he’s almost dizzy with it floods through Buck. Of course…of course. The spell must be limited to him telling someone about his curse. It has to be—a binding spell of this degree has to take an incredible amount of power; of course it couldn’t be too general. And since Ali already knows about it…

“You don’t understand,” he gasps. “God, so much has happened since we talked. But listen—can you…can you tell my sister? Or…or no, no, she shouldn’t hear it from a stranger. Eddie! I—where’s my phone? Shit—okay, can I use yours? I have to call Eddie. You can tell him and…”

He looks wildly around the room, his thoughts zinging through his head almost too quickly for him to keep up with. He needs…he needs to be able to tell his family about the curse. Above all else, they need to know. He’s learned that lesson, accepted that lesson, and having the choice taken away from him has only highlighted the need to explain everything to them. He was a fool to keep it from them for so long.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Ali says suddenly, holding her hands up in a slow down motion. “Your sister doesn’t know? And why do you want me to tell her? Why haven’t you?”

“I can’t! I—I was going to, but the Fae my parents made the deal with stopped me. He…I don’t know if it’s a curse or just a spell or what, but I can’t talk about it to anyone now. Or, I guess, anyone who doesn’t already know. So…please, I need you to tell someone for me. Not Maddie. I have to think about how to tell her first, but Eddie! Eddie will help me; I just need you to tell him.” He looks at her, and the look on her face freezes him in his tracks. Ali’s face has gone pale under the stark, fluorescent lighting, and even as he watches, she stumbles back a step. “Ali?”

“You…you’ve seen the Fae who made your deal?” she asks, her voice barely a whisper.

“Huh? Yeah…he, he showed up right as I was gonna tell Athena and Eddie what I was. He, he, he did something to them. Maddie too. Made them forget things they’d seen me do, and then he made it so I can’t talk about it.” Ali’s eyes grow wider and wider as he speaks, and she shakes her head in denial when he falls silent. He pauses, a sudden, sinking feeling opening up in his stomach. “What?”

Instead of answering, Ali stretches a hand out towards him. He barely has time to register the emerald glow of her power before her fingers gently brush his temple. The reaction is instantaneous. It’s like a shock of static electricity, a bolt of pain that makes him hiss out loud and sends Ali stumbling back. He rubs at his head, blinking the sting of whatever has just happened away, before turning startled eyes on Ali.

“Stars and shadow, I should have known,” she mumbles, shaking her head rapidly.

“Ali, what—” he starts, only to be interrupted by Ali stumbling rapidly to the door.

“I have to leave,” she says.

“Wait, what?”

“I’m sorry!” she says. “I’m sorry, I can’t help you. I can’t…I have to go.” With that, she turns and practically runs out of the room, leaving him staring after her in shock.

[jpitha]

Between The Black and Gray 12

First / Previous / Next

... and Fen was laying on something.

Her back felt something warm and moist, but also scratchy. She opened her eyes and the ceiling was impossibly blue. There seemed to only be one incredibly bright point of light overhead as well.

Fen sat up and looked around. Everything was... green. The ground was covered in green plants, there were tall plants in the distance. Trees, she realized with a start. She swiveled her head around wildly. She was outside. Growing up aboard a space station, being planetside was an odd, and slightly worrying feeling. She was used to the comfort of walls and ceiling. Here it was just open.

Fen jumped up off the floor... the ground. The light overhead... the sun was warm on her back and the air smelled... fresh. It was the only way she could describe it. It smelled nothing like Station. As she was looking around, in the distance, she saw a K'laxi running towards her. It looked like...

"Ma!" Fen took off running towards her, tears streaming from her eyes. Both from the wind and her sudden flood of emotions. They crashed into each other and she picked Ma-ren up and spun her around wildly. "How can you be here? I saw you...you"

She nodded and put her finger to her lips. Fen put her down gently onto the grass and she wrapped her arms and tail around Fen tightly. They hugged a long time.

Ma-ren looked up and beckoned Fen the bend down. She did and Ma-ren whispered in her ear. "You're dead too."

Something between a moan and a cry escaped her lips when the wormhole link ended. Fen was sitting in one of the chairs on the command deck, tears streaming freely. Gord was staring at her. "Spy, looks like it happens to her too."

"Really? I was hoping it wouldn't I hear it's not plesant."

Gord shrugged. "Some people like it, but yeah, more often than not it's a curse."

"What happened?" Fen looked around and wiped her tears with her sleeve. The chair was hot and her skin stuck to the cloth in a way that was both familiar and depressing. "I have to go back! Ma-ren was there!"

"Oh no" Gord shook his head sadly. "And this soon too? I'm sorry Fen."

"What? What? What happened? Where was I?"

"Okay. So this one is a little strange, but I assume at this point you're getting used to strange." Gord got up from the command chair and sat in the chair next to Fen. "For about one in one hundred humans, when you traverse a wormhole link, something happens. For centuries humanity's best and brightest tried to figure out what was happening, what was going on what they were seeing." Gord sighed. "As near as anyone is able to figure out, one in one hundred people die when you traverse a wormhole. But, they only die for as long as it takes to traverse. When the ship exits the other side, you come back."

"I... died?" Fen stares straight ahead, looking at nothing. "I was... outside I think. Planetside. I had never been on the surface of a planet before. It was so blue and so green."

"Earth probably. That's the only planet I know of that humanity settled on that could be described so succinctly." Gord smiled sadly. "But yeah, whether or not you really died, or if it is a hallucination or whatever, nobody really knows. "

Fen turned and locked eyes with Gord. "And it'll happen every time we use the wormhole generator?"

Gord nodded. "Every time we use our specific wormhole generator yes. If we use the Gates, or FlashWarp or even a Flip Drive it doesn't happen. But our trusty old wormhole generators? Yup."

Fen sighed. She took a deep breath with her eyes closed, and let it out through her nose. "Okay." She chuckled. "Okay! Let's do this!"

Gord leaned back, surprised. "You're really all right?"

Fen laughed. "I am Gord. You know why? I can see Ma-ren again. I don't even have to die permanently. Every time we link, I can see her again, even if it's just for a moment. It's like... anticipation of the future when we're finally together forever. I'll take that. It's more than what I thought I was going to have just a few hours ago."

Gord smiled. "Lots of people I knew who died when we linked saw loved ones. Most of them were granted peace by it. A few were haunted. I don't think I ever saw anyone who was energized by it." He shook his head. "Thousands of years, and you still manage to surprise me." He looked up. "See Spy? This is why I hang around. This is why I'm still here after all this time."

"You mean to tell me it's not because nobody else will have you?" Spyglass laughed.

Gord crossed his arms and frowned, but his eyes smiled. "It can be two things." He got up and walked back to the command chair. "Spy where are we now?"

"We're on approach to Habilamen. I've reached out on the frequencies that you've recommended; they've contacted me and are granting us 'provisional' permission to dock and seek repairs."

Gord stood. "Well, it'll be boring to just sit here and wait. Come on Fen."

Fen stood. "Come on and do what?"

Gord raised an eyebrow. "If you're going to be able to go back to that Gren station, you're going to have to know how to work a battle rifle right? Come on then. I printed a couple out and some practice rounds. I'll teach you how to shoot."

Even though Fen grew up on a Gren Station her whole life, and was used to things being large, she was still taken aback at how large Spyglass was. Maybe it was because it was just the two of them and Spyglass, maybe it was because she had never really been on a starship before, she wasn't sure. But, when Glen led her down the ship and opened a door to a cargo bay that was easily larger than the entire forty third floor she gasped.

"I keep forgetting you never really went into space." Gord grinned. "It's fun to be around someone who is still surprised by things that I'm used to. Set up near the door to the cargo bay was a table with two battle rifles, extra magazines and further downrange a set of targets. Gord approached one. "Okay, so-"

The training continued on for the rest of the day. Fen learned about proper safe handling, loading and unloading, cleaning, maintaining and sighting even before she fired her first shot. Gord didn't mention it, but he was impressed. Fen took to it like a natural. By the second day she was hitting the target. By the third, she was gaining accuracy. By the time they reached Habilamen she was entirely competent.

Habilamen was an Innari station, one of the manganese breathers. It is a large and wide galaxy, and oxygen is far from the only power source that sapient life uses. The Innari have nearly no bones at all and their skeleton structure is a cartilage-like substance. Fen had never heard of them before, and Glen spent the last few hours before docking explaining protocol. They would have to wear suits while aboard Habilamen. "Let me do the talking." Gord said as they were suiting up. Spyglass had some positively ancient suits in a bay near the airlock. Gord made a face when he saw them, but they passed all the checks and he declared them 'good enough' for visiting the Innari.

"Back during first contact, the Innari were so afraid of humans, that people would go aboard their stations with their helmets completely opaque and would project icons onto the helmet with a cartoon of their face. We don't have to do that anymore, but don't expect a warm welcome." Gord reached behind Fen and fiddled with her suit. She felt some fans and the circulation improved.

"Why are they afraid of us?" Fen checked her seals like Gord showed her. All green.

Gord chuckled. "They said it was because humans kind of look like a predator from their deep past, but I'm not so sure. I think it might be more than a little good old fashioned xenophobia. They thought oxygen breathing life was super rare in the galaxy until they met us. We introduced them to the other peoples around us who also breath oxy, and I think it shattered their worldview a little." Gord sealed his helmet and toggled the suit-to-suit radio. "Do you hear me?"

"Yes, you're clear."

"Good. Okay, let's go say hi. Remember, just follow my lead, do the gesture of welcome like I taught you, and let me do the talking." Gord stepped into the airlock.

Fen followed and the door shut behind them. Spyglass was careful to evacuate all of their breathing gas before opening the outer door to the docking umbilical. After a moment, the light turned green, the door opened and she followed Gord out.

Immediately, Fen noticed the air. Her eyes, evolved to see through an oxygen atmosphere as they were noticed that everything had a grey cast, bordering on black and white. The overhead lights were about the same brightness as on the Gren station, but much redder. It made everything look like a dusky twilight. She fought an urge to turn on her suits flashlight.

They exited the umbilical to no fanfare whatsoever. There was a sign in their slashed and dotted script. Spyglass was handing translation duty, and it overlaid the translation in her vision. It told them to turn to the right to head to immigration

While they walked, Fen looked around. She saw many of the boneless Innari, going about their day. They seemed to slide along the floor, their... legs moving in a way that it was difficult to tell where one ended and another began. There were other people around as well, some with two legs like Fen, and others that she could not describe without sounding insensitive. Other than the air and the people and the distance, the feeling, the ambiance, the vibe was very much like the station she grew up on.

They got into a line, and eventually reached the immigration officer. Gord stood tall and made the Gesture of Welcome. He put both of his hands together, and rubbed his palms together and then pulled his hands apart quickly. Fen did her best to copy the gesture, but it was unfamiliar, awkward.

The immigration officer was unimpressed. "Origin?" Once again, Spyglass was translating for them.

"Gren Station 52589"

"Purpose of visit?"

"Starship repair and refitting."

The immigration officer paused at that, and looked down at his pad. "Trade goods or currency?"

"Both actually."

Spyglass whispered to Fen that he was giving an expression that made him look dubious. He made a noise that Spy said was like a sigh and continued.

"No weapons aboard, keep to the common areas, sleep aboard your ship and you may stay for a tenday. One extension allowed with permission. Is this acceptable?"

Gord nodded. "Yes, we accept those terms."

The Innari touched his pad and two stickers appeared in a slot. "Apply these to your suit. They're your visas."

Gord and Fen took their stickers and applied them, and they were gently but firmly, ushered away.

They left Immigration and stepped out onto the promenade. "Come on Fen, let's go."