#thank you to the knuckles post i saw that reminded me

[exclusonic]

Happy (late) Birthday to Knuckles!!

[stave-writes]

Scruffy! (Various Dungeon Meshi Men x GN!Reader)

Summary: Your boyfriend really needs a trim of his stubble, and he's asked for your help :)

Word Count: 1711

Laios Touden

We all know Laios does NOT like being scruffy, especially when Falin tells him he looks like their father. So, it's a lovely thing when he asks you to look after him and help him shave.

Laios had been a little finicky lately, ever since leaving the dungeon he was a lot more conscious about himself. Mainly, his appearance. Rubbing at his new stubble and brushing his blonde hair that had grown out in places. Irritation was plainly visible each time he felt the slight scratch of stubble against his fingers, even a slight huff to his tone afterwards. "Hey, could I ask a favour?" was his innocuous question, head tilting back over the edge of your sofa. After an inquisitive sound of acknowledgement from you, a slight smile rose on Laios's face. "Mind helping me shave? I also want to cut my hair but can't see the back."

This is how you ended up sitting on the edge of your tub, scissors working away at the tufts of hair against the nape of his neck. Each little brush of your fingers against his skin caused a small giggle or shuffle from Laios, if he were a dog, his tail would be smacking against your leg so hard it'd hurt a little. A smile was visible on his lips every time you'd lean over to peek at him, and he'd look up at you eyes full of love.

"Did you know that tons of monster species use grooming as a form of intimacy?" Of course, you did, you're dating Laios Touden, if you didn't you'd have amnesia. Instead of an eye roll, you gave a little smile and nod.

Reaching his hand up, a pat against your leg was a signal he hadn't just passed out between your knees while you worked at giving him the cut he liked. A quick kiss pressed to your lips was a thankful gesture, nuzzling into your face before moving to work on shaving his stubble to save you from the beard scratches.

Chilchuck Tims

I see Chilchuck as the type of guy to have some time dedicated to a little self-care, although shaving isn't a big problem considering the half-footer's ageing span. But! His hair does still grow, so some help may be needed there.

It'd been a week since Chilchuck asked you to remind him to go get a haircut, and he still hadn't gone despite your near-constant reminders. Post-its on the counter, on his lockpicking tools, hell you once stuck one on his face for him to see in the mirror. At this point, it was getting ridiculous that he hadn't even gone to try and get it done.

"You're going to cut my hair...? I can just go get it done in town-" He huffed a little at you, rubbing at the back of his neck with a small frown. Your adamance had his stubbornness outweighed almost tenfold, so you rolled up a stool behind his chair and began to figure out how to trim his hair.

Hair was scattered everywhere by the time you were done, and Chilchuck's ego was only a little bruised by the number of grey hairs you saw while trimming it. He didn't seem to mind it too much though, the presence of a wagging tail that was usually hidden away under his clothing batting at your leg. At least his hair was finally trimmed, and a thankful kiss was pressed to your knuckles as you got up to sweep away the leftover hair.

Senshi of Izganda

Senshi doesn't particularly care for shaving or even washing his beard but knowing the kind of bacteria facial hair can carry (and after a lecture from Marcille) he's willing to have you help him with that beard the size of Cousin It from the Addams Family.

"Ah, I suppose Marcille's nagging finally got to me, that's all. I hope you don't mind helping me wash my beard, it'll take a while." Senshi muttered slightly, looking aside as he asked you for just a little favour. It was hard to ask such a thing from you, especially with how much you'd done already for him by just being with him. He felt absurdly lucky when you agreed, setting his helmet and upper armour aside to clean off his beard and hair.

It was a nicer experience than usual having a loving touch working at his hair first to wet it, then lather it and working slowly to get all the dirt out. It took a long long time to finish the first round of washing the hair and beard, alongside the several other scrubbing and washing rounds. It was an intensive process, but being able to smell clearly the soap in his hair was a good bonus, alongside the lack of a helmet.

Letting him dry for a few hours was the best idea you'd had this entire time, able to bury your face against the wall of fluff you called Senshi for a long while. The smell was great and the warmth was greater, you could've honestly slept there if you wanted. But, you had a plan! Readying a comb, boar bristle brush and your sanity, you began braiding Senshi's hair into long thick plaits and tying them off once you were done. It was tenuous but an enjoyable closeness, as you pressed your face into his back slightly. You couldn't help but marvel at your work when you were all done. The happy expression on your face made it hard for Senshi to resist placing a kiss on the crown of your head, a soft look in his eyes.

Toshiro Nakamoto

A large part of the teachings Toshiro lives by is to exist as a convenience to others, not asking much and not putting his needs in the forefront. So, when Toshiro comes to you asking for help looking after himself? It's a sign of trust. He knows you.

"You...would you help me?" Toshiro's voice is quiet and soft as he addresses you, a slight crease in his brow as he looks towards you. It's hard to be vulnerable around you even if you're adamant in your love for him. Even as you assure him it's not a bother to help him and that you're here for him, it's still... nerve-wracking. It's hard for him to settle himself as he eventually moves first to sit down on your bed, having you brush out his hair and praise the length and colour of his locks, he's still worried.

He's guided towards your bath and urged to get into the warm water, leaning his head back so you can scrub away any remaining dirt and eventually, he peeks an eye open to see your face as you work at making sure he's sparkling clean. The slight furrow in your brow, your intense posture and a huff finally as you finish cleaning his hair. He can't help but smile at your effort to look after him especially as Toshiro can feel the exhaustion melt away at your careful consideration of him.

Before he knew it, he was basically asleep in your tub, head leant back with your fingers working at his hair and scalp. The feeling of safety was all he needed from you. When it was done, he dried off and changed into some comfortable clothes he'd left with you before curling up beneath your duvet, head resting into the crook of your neck.

Mithrun of the House of Kerensil

Mithrun struggles with self-care due to his lack of desires and is used to being looked after by others. With you, though, it was different. Your touch was imbued with love, and you didn't choose to look after him because someone ordered you to, just...because you wanted to see him cared for.

Looking after Mithrun sometimes could be a lot, making sure he ate and bathed and slept all while making sure he kept his mana up enough for his work with the canaries. So, it'd been easier to devise a schedule for all the things that would need to be done by day and then by week. Three baths a week, each one day apart. Three meals a day, four hours apart except for dinner which was at 6pm on the dot. A good schedule helped you and Mithrun look after yourselves, but you hadn't quite yet accounted for trimming his hair.

It had gotten longer than you had thought before you remembered to check the length of his hair, playing with the silver locks that framed his face and moved to cover his false eye a little. With a slight curl at the ends and parted just along the side, it was an easy style to maintain, especially for someone so consistently fatigued. So, when it came time to trim it down, an afternoon was allocated and Mithrun was given a book to entertain him while you worked.

On the floor, resting on a pillow was the middle-aged elf who you were looking after. Tilting his head forward a little, you brushed through those light-coloured locks and parted them into smaller sections before taking them between your middle and pointer finger, working to even it out and take a little length off. This process was repeated for each section of hair, fingers lightly brushing his face at one point which caused a little startled jump to come from Mithrun, looking at you with his good eye almost inquisitively. In the end, though, you finished off trimming it all quite quickly, evening it all out and even taking some longer strands from the front and braiding them like he'd done when he was much younger...before the dungeon.

Even if it was hard to see, a little smile played on his lips as he embraced your touches, leaning back after you proudly announced you were done. His face squished into your thigh, a little bump of his against you like a cat trying to get their owner's attention. Taking advantage of your curiosity at this action, your hand was brought to his face and he snuggled into it slightly, enjoying the reaction it spurred from you. He may not desire much, but he knows how to love you.

[sswiftiestars]

Professor!anakin aaaaaaa

professor!Anakin X fem! reader

warnings: SMUT. kinda big age gap (12 years. ani is 32 you’re 20), more of a jerking off headcanon, sexting, dilf! anakin is mentioned, padmes death at birth mentioned.

a/n: idk how college works so if it doesn’t makes sense, that’s why. sorry babes :). also, i imagine him to look like a mix of clay beresford and Stephen glass in this.

not proofread

You sit in your english class, in your sophomore year of college, as your teacher, Mr. Skywalker, was speaking in the head of your class.

you often found yourself staring at his dirty brown curls a lot, instead of listening to whatever dumbass lecture he was babbling about.

You’d also think about how it’d feel if his hands were knuckle deep inside your pussy, but, you also thought about what it’d be like for his hopefully huge cock to be down your throat. you thought about it as you endlessly fucked your self with your slim fingers, whining to yourself because it wasn’t enough.

and..little did you know, so did he.

..Anakin isn’t a…romantic guy, that’s for sure. during sex, i mean. he takes what he wants. Anakin would rather face fuck a girl till she cries, rather than taking it slow and placing soft kisses on her neck.

Sure, he can do that, but he doesn’t like to.

Anakin often stayed up late at night, fucking his fist like there was no tomorrow. he usually thought of his late wife, Padme, who unfortunately passed during child birth.

but..that changed. ever since he saw you for the first time in his class..everything changed.

“y/n, are you listening to me?” your professor asked you, your class all turning their heads at you.

you felt anxiety bubble up in your head, and chest.

you clear your throat, “yes sir.” you murmur out. Anakin nodded back at you with a slight smirk before returning back to his lecture.

Your best friend smirked at you from across the room. She knew how infatuated with him you were, because you’d tell her all your unhinged thoughts about him. you rolled your eyes jokingly in response, but deep down, you knew you’d be fucking yourself thinking about that stupid smirk of his later.

When the bell rings, you pick up your stuff and right as you’re about to leave the classroom, Anakin calls out to you.

“Not so fast, Y/n. cmere.” anakin says with a slight grin on his tan and freckled face. you wasted no time and walked over to his desk and tilted your head slightly out of curiosity.

“Listen, y/n, your grades are slipping.” he reminded you, anakins face turning serious.

“I- yeah, i know..” you mutter back in response, your face turning a bit red out of embarrassment.

“Do you need to start staying after class?” Anakin cleared his throat and leaned closer to you.

“Yeah, maybe.” you said, your breath hitching ever so slightly at his request, “—but not today, i have some things i have to do.” you lied, to tell the truth, you really needed to get to your room as soon as possible so you could fuck your self silly.

he smiled, “Alright. sounds like a plan.” Anakin nodded, “i know this isn’t the most professional thing to do, but here’s my number so we can schedule a tutoring session.” he murmured with a chuckle as he handed you a post it note with his number on it.

You quickly took the post it and nodded, “Thank you, Sir.” you said as you walked out of the classroom.

Later that day, well, night now.. it was around 8:00pm when you texted your professor,“Hey! it’s y/n, just letting you know this is me, text me when you think of a day we can schedule a tutoring session next week!”

he wasted no time at all with a quick response:

“hello, y/n! i’ll make sure to let you know. Side note; start paying attention in class instead of daydreaming. it might help you out a bit.”

you rolled your eyes to yourself, “I don’t daydream. not at all.” you text back teasingly, but making sure to keep everything as normal as possible, since he was your professor, and all.

“keep talking to me like that and you’ll see what happens.”

oh.

Oh.

“is this fucker flirting with me, or am i delusional?” you say to yourself.

“i’ll talk to you however i want. over text, at least.” you respond, hoping you’d get a bold text back.

well, your dreams came true.

“I think that mouth has better uses then talking,y/n”

“Oh?” you replied, not expecting his response like that at all, “andddd what would those better uses be?” you added.

“Probably sucking my cock.” Anakin texted you, trying to ignore the absolutely huge hard on that was straining his sweatpants.

your jaw dropped to the floor and you turned bright red. why would he say that? he’s your teacher, not your boyfriend.

“that’s not very appropriate.”

“I don’t care if it’s not “appropriate”, sweetheart. You want me and i want you too.” Anakin texts you, and starts to pull his hard cock out. Before you really get the chance to reply, he sends you a photo of him palming his hard cock, leaking pre-cum from the pretty tip.

You bite your lip when you look at the photo, feeling yourself grow wet at the sight of his huge length.

“See how bad i want you?” Anakin taunts over text message.

You waste no time to quickly take off your clothes, leaving yourself in your lace bra and underwear. you take a photo of your tits and some of your hips.

You send the photo to him, and the second he sees it, Anakin immediately starts to pump his cock.

“fuckfuckfuckfuck-“ he moans, as he looks at the photo. “Gonna’ cum all over your tits-“ Anakin mutters to himself, and let’s out a little whimper. Anakin continues s to fuck his fist and after a couple more minutes, he cums on his phone screen, onto your tits.

He quickly realizes what he’s gotten himself into, and a wave of guilt washes over him.

“Fuck. i’m gonna get fired for this.”

[burningcheese-merchant]

"Attractive" - BurningCheese Short Story #2

I was going to finish and post this at night after work, but someone came to me and told me something so lovely that I felt compelled to do it now, while this big grin on my face is still giving me strength. Hope this puts a smile on everyone's faces too, but theirs especially.

So here's a BurningCheese short before I go back to work again. Special thanks to straightplankton, hope this makes your day like your message made mine :)

"Little birdie," Burning Spice called to her, "do you find me attractive?" "To find something implies that it already existed before I laid eyes upon it," Golden Cheese said. "I don't find anything about you because there is nothing there." "Is that so?" Burning Spice asked, resting his chin in the palm of his hand and giving her a smirk. "Then why did I catch you looking over me?" "When has that ever happened?" Golden Cheese asked, annoyed. "When we first met," Burning Spice answered. "Every so often, when we're together." His smirk grew. "Just now, as we sit and wind down from our duel." She narrowed her eyes at him. "I'm afraid you're mistaken. Seems like I may have hit your head with my spear too hard and it's rattled your brain." "On the contrary, pretty bird. You hit me just right. In fact, I wouldn't say no to you hitting me even harder next time." "Hmph! Regardless, I haven't been looking at you! I never have and I never will!" "If you say so."

Back to tending to their wounds in silence the two of them went (although now, a certain frustration colored Golden Cheese's face and influenced her movements as she worked). But as they both did so, as Golden Cheese repressed a wince while rubbing medicinal ointment into the deep cut Burning Spice had carved into her forearm with his axe, she found her mind and eyes wandering off again - away from herself and to the man sitting a ways away from her, who was quiet and focusing on something besides being a bloodthirsty buffoon for once in his miserable life.

She watched for just a moment as he wrapped a bandage around his hand, over the stab wound in his palm where she had swatted his axe away with her spear and impaled him. It was... interesting to see him like this: eyebrows knit, the corners of his mouth pulled in a slight frown, the fire in his eyes that always burned bright and wild now a low simmer. Just one moment, seeing him like this, before she turned her attention back to her arm. Just one moment, where she let her curiosity get the better of her. Just one. No more.

...Until she defied her better judgment again and shot another quick glance at him while she bandaged her arm. At the splash of blood painting his cheek a darker red than his skin (whose it was, she wasn't sure). At the strands of jet black hair still dutifully framing his face; still curling around his ears and along his jaw like they always did.

Back at her arm when she thought she saw him glancing back at her from the corner of his eye.

Nothing she did really put a stop to this... strange compulsion of hers. No amount of particular, narrow-eyed focus on her injuries kept her from eventually looking back at his own. No amount of pain and discomfort brought by cleaning and dressing her many wounds distracted her from the oddly stoic expression he wore as he did the same to himself. No amount of internal scolding or self-criticism shielded her from the repeated sight of... the dark tattoos circling his biceps. His strong chest, decorated with those same foreign tattoos, the Light of Destruction glinting in the harsh sunlight at the very center. The beads of sweat trickling down his face, down that chest... down those well-toned abs that she remembers being harder than stone (or so the bruises on her knuckles liked to remind her every time she looked at them).

...Very strange compulsion, indeed. Perhaps these duels of theirs were getting to her. Fighting so hard for so long must be worse for her mind than she'd originally assumed. He calls her "thief", and yet here he comes at least once a month to steal not only her time and patience, but apparently a bit of her sanity, as well. Such audacity... She'd almost commend it, if it wasn't so infuriating.

Just as she was about to silently congratulate herself for her good first-aid work and for not peeping at Burning Spice for longer than five minutes, a faint groan reached her ears and drew her away from her freshly dressed arms and legs and back to that accursed Beast. Burning Spice was now sitting up straight, letting out a soft sigh as he stretched... as he flexed his ridiculously strong arms, as he puffed out his chest, as he bent a little backwards in such a way as if to show off his abdomen. The sun's rays seemed to go out of their way to wrap themselves around him - to bejewel him, almost, in how they shone upon him. In how they drew special attention to the contours of all those strong, thick muscles. In how they helped cast little shadows that contrasted so well against his skin, in all the right places. In how it made the Soul Jam embedded in his chest, right where his heart was, gleam and glow like a star itself.

Golden Cheese could feel her face growing hotter the longer she stared. Her mouth hung slightly agape. Her mouth felt dry. But she couldn't stop. She couldn't look away. She was trapped.

And then he turned his head and looked her straight in the eye, and flashed her the biggest, happiest, most smug and satisfied grin she'd ever seen him give.

"Made you look~"

She responded to him by grabbing a handful of sand and chucking it straight at his handsome annoying face.

[tipsynight0]

What remains of you// part two

Paring - Jeff the killer x female reader

Word count 1.2k

TRIGGER WARNINGS - suicide, self harm, death & decay, psychosis, violence, murder?

Summary - Jeff is struggling with the aftermath of (y/n) suicide attempt.

Author's note - ahhh!! Hello lovies. I honestly didn’t expect to have so much love on my last post and a lot of requests on part two. Thank you for all the support, my requests are always open <3 reminder if you feel this way, reach out for support.

The dripping of the faucet was constant, unyielding—a steady tap-tap-tap that burrowed into Jeff’s skull, gnawing at the last shreds of his sanity. He sat alone in his dim room, a cloud of smoke hanging thick around him, his bloodshot eyes locked on the night outside his window. Everything beyond it was lost in a heavy, swirling fog. Time had twisted itself into knots, and he couldn’t remember how many days had slipped by like this, blending one into the next. His mind was fraying, but there was one thing he was sure of: (y/n) was still here.

She had to be.

He could still feel her presence, sense her somewhere in the house, even if she was cold and silent, slipping around him like a shadow. It didn’t matter that she wouldn’t speak, wouldn’t look at him, or that her body was sometimes stiff when he tried to hold her. She was just… recovering. Healing from that night. He had saved her, hadn’t he? Pulled her from that bathtub, his hands covered in her blood as he whispered over and over, “You’re going to be okay. I’m here.”

But sometimes, late at night, he’d reach out to touch her, and she’d feel so cold, so rigid. Sometimes he’d lie beside her, whispering in her ear, begging her to say something, anything. And in those moments, a creeping fear would start clawing at his chest, but he’d push it down, refusing to let himself think about it. She was here. She had to be. She just needed time.

But his nightmares wouldn’t leave him alone. Whenever he closed his eyes, he saw her in that tub again, the water pooling around her, dark and red, her face slack and empty. The smell of blood filled his nose, thick and metallic, and he’d wake up gasping, his heart hammering in his chest. The image would stay with him, clinging to him like a sickness.

He had tried to find solace the only way he knew how. Each night, he’d go out, his knife glinting in his grip as he hunted for anyone who could distract him from the emptiness gnawing at his heart. But no matter how much he tore into them, how much he bled them dry, it wasn’t the same. He’d find himself cradling them, muttering, “Why did you leave me?” as though they were her, his mind slipping as he clutched them close, his chest heaving with ragged breaths. None of it filled the void. Nothing worked. He needed her.

One night, he came back home, stumbling through the door, his clothes stained with blood. The house was quiet, and as he kicked off his boots, he heard it—a faint sound, barely there. The trickle of water.

He froze, his breath catching. The bathroom. She was in there.

The hallway felt longer than ever as he staggered toward the bathroom door, his fingers gripping the handle with such force that his knuckles turned white. His mind reeled with flashes of her lying in that bathtub, her pale face tilted toward him, blood seeping into the water. Panic clawed at him, wild and relentless, but he forced himself to breathe. She was fine. She was just taking a bath.

He pounded on the door, his voice breaking as he called her name. “(Y/n)? What are you doing? Are you… are you okay in there?” Silence pressed back at him, thick and heavy. His chest tightened as he threw his shoulder against the door, once, twice, until it burst open.

She was there, slumped in the tub, her wrists under the flow of water, her skin pale as porcelain, veins like blue rivers beneath the surface. Red streaks trickled from her wrists, painting the water with dark, dizzying patterns.

“No… no,” he whispered, his voice cracking as he staggered forward, his arms reaching out. He fell to his knees beside the tub, pulling her into his arms, cradling her body against his. Her skin was so cold, so still, but her eyes fluttered open, just barely. He gasped, his heart pounding wildly with hope as he brushed a trembling hand over her cheek.

“You’re here. I knew you wouldn’t leave me,” he murmured, pressing his face into her hair, breathing in her scent. He could feel the damp chill of her skin seeping into him, but he ignored it, whispering, “You’re going to be okay. I’ll take care of you, like I always do.” His voice grew frantic, desperate, as he tried to warm her with his touch, his fingers trembling as he clung to her.

Slowly, he lifted her from the tub, carrying her to the bed. He laid her down gently, his hands shaking as he bandaged her wrists, his mind filling with a fierce, irrational hope. She was still here, and he would make her better. He had to. He sat beside her, running his fingers through her damp hair, his mind spiraling as he watched her face.

But something was wrong. Her skin was so pale, almost gray, her lips tinged blue, her limbs heavy and unyielding. A creeping coldness settled over him, but he pushed it away, refusing to see the truth staring back at him.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, his voice hollow. “You’re just… you’re just tired. You need to rest.” He leaned over her, his hands shaking as he stroked her cheek, his touch growing frantic as he tried to warm her lifeless skin. “You’re still here, with me. I know you are. You wouldn’t leave me.”

But as he stared down at her, he couldn’t ignore the vacant glassiness in her eyes, the way her skin had taken on an unnatural stillness. His stomach twisted, a sick dread settling over him, but he fought against it, his fingers brushing over her sewn lips, her expression frozen in a ghostly, silent scream.

“No… no, no, no!” he gasped, his voice cracking as he clutched her to him, burying his face in her shoulder, his mind spiraling as he clung to her still, cold form. “I saved you. I saved you! You’re still here. You’re… you’re…” But his words broke off as he felt her weight, the unmistakable stiffness beneath his touch, and the truth clawed its way through his delusion, ripping him open.

She wasn’t here. She hadn’t been here for a long time.

A broken, choked sob tore from his throat as he rocked back and forth, her cold body wrapped in his arms, his mind splintering under the weight of his realization. All this time, he had been talking to a memory, a shell. Every whisper, every touch had been a desperate illusion. His heart shattered, and he pressed his lips to her forehead, his voice a broken murmur.

“I’ll stay with you. I’ll never let you go.”

He laid her back down, tucking her carefully under the blankets, as if that could bring back her warmth. And as he curled beside her, his arms wrapped around her lifeless form, he felt his mind slipping, darkness closing in around him. His whispers faded into silence as he lay there “I’ll keep you safe”

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

title: look after my heart

pairing: nash hawthorne x (first person) reader

synopsis: you and nash have been together for a long while now and you’re insanely in love, but circumstance forces you apart

warnings:

a/n: nash is so underrated 🤍🤍 thanks for reading

tag list: @tornqdowarnings @whatsamongus @wish-i-were-heather @inmyheaddd @never-enough-novels @peterlcsingwendy @lxvebelle @xoxo-vee @emelia07 @f4iry-bell @zaraaaabear @thoughtdaughter3 @benny1989fredd @elysianwayy77

We agreed to meet up at 10 o’clock but I was there at half past nine. I needed that time to put things into perspectives, the analyse all the what-if scenario is one by one. Nash was my everything. And my everything might be taken away from me. Nash was a Hawthorne, a grandson to a very rich and powerful man, an heir, if you will, to a fortune. And I was nothing in comparison. I was a normal girl, living in a pretty regular house, with nothing too special or extraordinary about her. You can see how it might’ve gone down when he revealed to his family that we were together. At 10 o’clock tonight everything would change. For better or for worse I didn’t know. And I wish I’d never have found out.

I noticed a figure approaching. I could tell by the way he walked that it was him right away. I stood up under the lamp post and waited until he reached me. He came into the light and I saw it in his face before he even opened his mouth. My heart slowly sank in my chest and the lump grew quickly in my throat.

“It’s okay,” I said softly, taking a step towards him.

I knew it was anything but okay. But I had to say something. He shook his head. He couldn’t meet my eye. I waited silently until he was ready. He looked at me, his hazel eyes full of the most gut-wrenching pain. I couldn’t bear to stare at them but I forced myself to. I had to be strong. For Nash.

“My grandfather made it you or my family,” he told me, his voice was hoarse and taut, it was unfamiliar for me to hear him like this, “I either run from it all with you and stay and never see you again.”

“It’s okay,” I repeated, taking his hands into mine. He grasped them so tightly, his knuckles went white and my hands filled with blood.

“I can’t leave my brothers, I can’t walk out and leave them with what I had to deal with,” he said, his voice breaking, “no one deserves to deal with that.”

I nodded, swallowing back the tears. I kept reminding myself the same few words. I had to stay strong. For Nash. If I cried then it would make it even harder and that just wasn’t fair. He didn’t need me to make this any harder than it already was.

“But I can’t leave you,” he choked out, “because I don’t think I’ve ever loved anything more than I love you. It would be like someone ripping a chunk of my heart out.”

“Oh Nash,” I murmured, my voice growing a little shaky.

“It’s an impossible decision,” he said, the strain in his voice tugging at my heartstrings.

“That’s why I’m making it for you,” I said, biting the inside of my cheek, “you need to stay with you brothers, you need to forget about me, let go and move on.”

“No,” he shook his head, glossy eyed, “no I’m finding another way.”

“We both know,” I murmured softly, “that there isn’t another way.”

There was a beat. The truth had been spoken and both of us hated it. But neither of us could change it.

“I can’t leave you,” he insisted, letting a single tear roll down his cheek, “I can’t.”

“You have to,” I sniff, my fingers trembling.

There was a deathly silence and each fraction of each moment killed me softly. Torturing my already wounded heart. I didn’t understand why the world was so cruel, who gave it the right? I didn’t understand why for once things couldn’t go my way. I finally had found someone who loved me like no one had ever loved me before and now it was being robbed from me too. Those thoughts made me feel so selfish, so conflicted, but how could I not be? My bones began to ache as the wind began to whistle and the silence was not so silent anymore.

“You’re not angry at me,” he said, “why aren’t you angry at me?”

“How could I be angry at something that’s out of your hands?” I asked him gently.

“I don’t want to do this but…” he trailed off, unable to carry on, his voice too unsteady, too broken.

“You have to, for the sake of your brothers, I know,” I attempted to comfort him.

“I-“ he went to say something but can’t get his words out. His face contorts into a look of agony and he began to sob. There were very few times I’d seen Nash cry and when he had it had never been like this. I wrapped my arms around his shaking body and guided him to where I’d previously been sitting. I held him closely and let him break down in my arms. That was the most heart breaking thing I’ve ever had to do. I couldn’t amend his agony because I was the cause.

It was like I felt his pain running through me. It hurt me to see him this hurt. Every time his body shook, my chest constricted. Tears freely now ran down my face. I had to be strong but this was what strong was at the moment. Sometimes letting yourself fall apart is strong.

“I understand Nash, really I do,” I whispered, playing with strands on his hair to distract my sorrowful mind.

He didn’t reply and I had a chance to wipe my eyes and pull myself together a little so Nash couldn’t see that if fallen apart too. After a few moments he sat up, tear stained face, eyes red and puffy. He looked so unlike the strong Nash I knew and yet I fell in love all over again in the same moment. My heart was tied to his.

“I never deserved you, not for a second,” he shook his head, eyes connected to mine.

“No,” I shook my head, my voice thick with emotion, “that’s not true.”

“I’m sorry, I wish there was a way,” he rasped.

“It’s not your fault,” I said. His eyes immediately hit the floor, guilty practically flooded out of him.

“Hey,” I snapped, “Nash. Look at me.”

His eyes met mine. Sparks ignited all the way through my body.

“It’s not your fault,” I told him firmly.

Nash blamed himself for most things, I knew that better than anyone. He needed someone to really drill it in to him for him to believe it. And even after that, more often than not he still would blame himself. It was the way that stupid grandfather of his had brought him up to believe. I often used to wonder how someone so kind hearted, so loving could have been raised by someone so cruel.

“I don’t want to do this to you,” he told me, cupping my face in his palms.

His touch is killing me and he doesn’t know it. I know he’s never going to touch me like this again. I know I’ll never feel the comfort of his gentle hands grazing my face. But I have to stay strong. For Nash.

“You don’t have that kind of choice and I know that,” I said, drawing soft spirals across his face

“He shouldn’t have this much power,” he practically growls, taking his hands from my face and throwing them down, clasping them anxiously within each other.

“But he does and neither of us can help that, there’s no point in getting angry over things we can’t control, okay?” I soothed, rubbing the top of his arms.

“Okay,” he blew a breath out, “…okay.”

He looked as if he wanted to stay something else but couldn’t quite get the words out. He attempted to pull himself together but I could see it broke him further. Silent tears rolled down his face, the lamplight making them glisten in a horribly beautiful way.

“You don’t need to find any more words,” I told him, “I promise you, I understand.”

I cupped his face in my hands and wiped away his tears gently with my thumb. He looks into my eyes, pain shining through his.

“I love you,” he whispered, his lips quivering a little.

“I love you too,” I replied.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, “I’m so awfully sorry.”

“Shhhh stop apologising, you dont need to apologise,” I smiled through my pain, placing a finger on his lips. They’re velvety soft as always. I took in the moment and memorised that feeling and held onto it in my heart.

He stood up, causing my hand to drop. He extended a hand and guided me up with him. His hands coiled around the small of my waist. And I think in that moment he was the only thing holding me together.

He kissed me softly. Tenderly. Passionately.

We both knew how sacred these last moments were. We’d have to leave on another soon. His lips were so natural on mine. I closed my eyes, making it last a long as I could. Painting a memory in my mind, and burning it into the side of my brain to be sure I would never forget. Never forget these feelings, these kisses… I didn’t want to stop. Ever. I could feel the love radiating off of us each time our lips touched.

“I will never forget you,” Nash mumbled between kisses.

I breathed out shakily and stopped the kissing for a second. I stared dead into his sparkling hazel eyes and told him, “one day you’re going to find another girl, someone who is so beautiful and sweet and funny who you love more than anything, and you’re going to marry her and she’ll have your babies and your grandfather won’t be able to keep you apart.”

“I thought that girl was you,” he choked, emotion ripping back through his voice.

“Not in this story,” I shook my head, biting my lip to stop the tears from falling.

“Then one day you’ll find a boy who can give you everything I couldn’t, who treats you like you’re his whole world and more,” he said to me, hands tightening on my waist.

“You already did that for me,” I whimpered, my bottom lip trying not to tremble and failing.

“If I had, then why are we here?” he asked.

“Unfortunate circumstance,” I explained, tears freely rolling down my cheeks. My strength was wavering, my agony was winning and I couldn’t hold my pain in anymore, “maybe we weren’t meant to be.”

“You don’t mean that,” Nash said.

He knew me too well.

“No I don’t,” I agreed, “but it’s more comforting to think of it like that.”

His pressed his forehead onto mine. Our eyes were glued to each other and I wished I could’ve paralysed time, like time paralysed my ability to love after that. I wished I could’ve frozen us there and then so nothing ever changed. But that was not possible.

“I will never stop loving you,” he said, raw passion in the back of his voice.

“I will never stop loving you too,” I told him.

“This is where we let go,” he murmured.

“This is where we let go,” I confirmed.

“Goodbye,” he whispered, placing one last kiss on my lips. The sweetest kiss, laced with salty tears.

“Goodbye,” I said, in barely a whisper. It was all I could muster, all I had left.

I nodded at him softly, telling him it was time and he slowly turned his back on me. He walked away into the darkness of the night, looking back over his shoulder at me just standing there. Every cell in my body screamed for me to run towards him, fling my arms around him and beg for him to stay. But I didn’t. Because that would’ve broken him even more than he’s already been broken. And he does not deserve that.

“Look after my heart Nash Westbrook Hawthorne,” I whispered into the nothingness, the wind carrying my forgotten words to some far off place, where they’d probably never be heard.

a/n: credit to @sister-lucifer for the divider

TIG masterlist

[velvetreds]

Could i get a 🦑 💗 🍄 short fic with kunigami pretty please 🛐

Congratulations on the 200 followers tho like you deserved that sm i eat up EVERYTHING you post you’re so goated 🫶

tysm!! UR goated for saying that thank u again!! im not sure if kunigami was as kunigami as possible BUT here u go !!

anything — rensuke kunigami x gn!reader

wc: 814 | event

cws: angst, hurt/comfort, soulmate au, gn!reader

DIVIDERS BY @/CAFEKITSUNE

rensuke kunigami once believed in soulmates. it was back before he entered the blue lock program, when he'd still had a positive outlook on life, a sense of self. when everything hadn't been warped by the wild card training.

but kunigami does not believe in soulmates now, as he stares down at you, outside the coffee shop, as you visually trace the red string from your hand, to his.

"we're... soulmates," you utter, stupefied. there is a sort of wonder in your eyes, one that reminds him of himself, from what feels like aeons ago.

he stares you down, expressionless. "i don't believe in those. can you move, i gotta go."

"c'mon," you whine, drawing out he word. it's not fair. you've waited for this all your life just for your soulmate to not want to be your soulmate. that day, you leave with his number.

he's gruff, standoffish, never quite rude, but it's almost obvious that you're not wanted. you stay persistent, meeting him every now and then. he's not sure when you become such an important part of his life, and he's not sure when he begins to look forward to seeing you again either — not that he shows it, of course.

and the same way he tells you nothing of how he feels, you stay silent too. you don't tell him how your confidence breaks down each time, and how you're slowly losing hope. it gets to the point where one day, you realise you can't maintain this seemingly one-sided relationship anymore.

"i can't do this anymore," you tell him sadly, and for the first time in the entirety of the time you've known him, kunigami shows some semblance of emotion. his brows lift up in surprise, eyes widened. "what? do what anymore?"

"this— me trying to maintain any sort of relationship with you, when you don't even care!"

"but i do care!" he responds, confused.

"what?" now you're confused.

the depth of the situation has finally started to sink in for him. you're leaving. and you have every right to, because he's been a shitty soulmate, and a shitty person in general. what does he do? what does he say?

"i—"

you're backing away.

"i can't lose you," he says.

communication is a weird thing.

"let's talk," he pleads. "just one time, let me try to fix it. just once, y/n, please."

the first two words are enough to make you relent; the rest of them just lessen any regret you're feeling for having done so. for the first time, he talks — really talks — to you. for the first time, he holds your hand.

the two of you sit at a bench, and you note that today he's sat closer to you than ever before, shoulder-to-shoulder. even now, his warmth comforts you, and you have to consciously restrain yourself from leaning into him.

"y/n," he says, breaking the silence. "i think, no, i don't know. i, i'm sorry, i've been horrible."

"you have," you agree, and he squeezes your hand.

"i care about you. a lot."

"well, that definitely showed," you say sarcastically, but your hand stays in his. it's comfortable like that. he moves your connected hands onto his laptop, shifting uncomfortably.

"i'm not... good at any of this. i don't know when you started to matter, y/n."

"what do you mean, matter?" something like anger sparks within you.

"i'd stopped believing in soulmates by the time we met," he explains. "but somewhere along the way, oh, i don't know, i'm in love with you."

your anger dissipates immediately as you spring away from him, staring up with the same expression as the one that'd been on your face when he first saw you. he presses his lips to your knuckles reverently, before both his hands coming up to cup your face tenderly. he's not trying to kiss you or anything, he just wants to make you understand.

"i still don't believe in soulmates," he says. "but i believe in you, and i want you to believe in us. i'll spend the rest of my life trying, if you'll let me."

you love his hands. you love his face. you love the way he holds you, so gentle, with hands that could probably kill, if he wanted. you hear a hushed whisper of your name, a plea for you to answer.

"i— i don't know, rensuke."

"i know i fucked it up, please, i'll do anything, just can't lose you."

maybe it's some sort of link between soulmates. maybe it's the slight tremor in his voice, or the way that you have come to know him, not through and through, but enough to know when he's being genuine. maybe it's a combination of all three.

your expression softens, a sly smile creeping onto your face. "anything?"

he perks up immediately, eyes widening. "anything."

"kiss me, stupid."

thank u for reading n following!

love,

hyena

[clockwork-ashes]

All You Have Is Your Fire - Part VI

Find Part I here :)

Summary: 'I can hear your heart beating through the stone.' For the briefest of moments, Lucien wondered if his mate would know exactly when his heart’s steady rhythm came to a sudden stop.

Note: A huge, huge thank you to the lovely @bettdraws who literally deserves all the credit and whose post inspired me to start writing this. I could not stop thinking about this head canon, and it was so kind of you to let me try and make a story from it :)

And a huge thank you to everyone reading!

Tag List: @anishake / @nocasdatsgay / @mybestfriendmademe / @talibunny30 / @halfbutneverwhole

Part VII >>

Elain held tightly to Lucien’s arm, her fingers linked with his, her other hand clutching at his wrist. An anchor, his heartbeat a comfort as they were led down the winding halls of the ancient Forest House. 

Lucien looked entirely unbothered, hardly troubled now that he was no longer in the presence of his family. Elain asked herself how, considering she very much felt as though she had woken from a nightmare. Her thoughts were foggy, her knees shaking in relief with every one of her steps. Elain wanted to sob. 

Lucien’s thumb traced the curve of her knuckle and Elain breathed in deeply to calm her nerves. 

It was almost humiliating, being paraded past the Autumn guards stationed at every corner as she clung to Lucien. She had to remind herself that it was expected of mated couples to behave so attached, that she was not amongst human nobles that would judge her for any open affection that was displayed. 

Elain briefly wondered what Cora had done in her absence, and whether the other woman had been made aware of the change in their plans. Elain’s thoughts turned quickly, though, to what her sisters would say. Elain was sure that Nesta, more than Feyre, would be furious. 

Elain assumed she would have the Inner Circle’s complete support, but she could only guess at their displeasure with how the night had unfolded. 

Elain had told a High Lord that she was marrying his son, and she was only just beginning to realise the weight of such a promise. Elain felt her stomach flip, panic starting to creep along her spine. 

Just when Elain’s anxiety started to take root, Lucien’s hand gripped hers more tightly. Elain felt as he tried to reassure her through the bond, and her annoyance was enough to redirect her thoughts. 

The Forest House was strange and unlike any place she had ever been to. The rough stone walls were a warm grey, closer to the colour of sheep’s wool than to the cool toned rock she had become used to in Night. 

Elain was surprised to see all the wooden furniture considering all the torches, flames dancing and sparks falling but never setting anything alight. She walked by a couple elegant fireplaces set into the walls, but she saw no chimneys, no soot or ashes. 

Like the roots of an ancient tree, hallways connected and split off into different directions, an unnavigable maze. Elain wondered how anyone was able to find their way around. 

One of the guards shoved Lucien towards a flight of stone steps, urging him to turn. Elain frowned when she felt him tense, thinking perhaps he had been offended by the gesture. It was only as a voice rang out beside them that Elain guessed Lucien had scented someone’s presence. 

“Your services are no longer needed,” the words were rough, a demand. “I can take the prince and his lady to their shared suite from here.” 

Much to Elain’s surprise, the guards obeyed. In the time it took for them to leave, Elain had turned her attention to the new arrival.  

The man was handsome, Elain could admit. His short hair a more copper shade of red, his eyes a bright hazel. He was pale, like most of the people she had seen in Autumn, and he looked battle-worn. A slashing scar cut across his throat, just visible above the fabric of his jacket. 

Even if Elain had not just been in a room with Beron Vanserra, she would have still been able to see the resemblance between the High Lord and the man who so obviously was another one of his sons. She took a step beck, knocking into Lucien’s side. 

The man raised a brow, but other than a passing glance, he paid her no mind. His focus was on Lucien, the torches on the wall flared. Elain wondered if that always happened, if flames simply responded to those in Autumn, a reflection of their emotions.

“Where’s Eris?” He snapped, like he had no patience for either her or Lucien. 

Her mate’s shoulders were stiff. “Is the loyal dog looking for its master?” Lucien’s drawl was taunting, as though he was expecting a reaction from his brother. His words were obviously meant to offend.

Elain could feel Lucien’s shock flooding the bond between them when his brother merely shook his head. 

“You always did cause so much trouble, Lucien,” he frowned, looking very much like Eris. With a sigh, he angled his chin to the flight of stairs in front of them. “Follow me.” 

Not like they had a choice, Elain thought. She could feel as Lucien turned to look at her, to check in, but she stared at his brother as he led them to a pair of thick oak doors. His attempt to comfort her was appreciated, but Elain truly thought she could not look at him without her anxiety once more taking hold. With a wave of his brother’s beringed hand, the doors opened to reveal a cosy space. 

The fireplace was already lit, comfortable carpets covered the stone floor, and by the arched window on the room’s other side was a large bed, fit for two. Elain blushed, forgetting for a moment that Lucien and her were to be married, of course their shared suite would have only one bed. 

Elain watched as Lucien’s brother waved his hand once again, this time lighting the candles littered on some of the wooden tables and nightstands. “I hope the rooms have been set to your liking. Should you need anything, let one of the guards know.”

Elain spoke for the first time since having left the throne room, “My lady’s maid was with me, I was wondering…” She trailed off, unsure of what to say next. 

“I’ll let Eris know,” the Autumn prince offered. “I’m sure he’s thought of everything.” There was no bitterness to his words, only an acknowledgement of his eldest brother’s very thorough planning.

Elain dipped her head in thanks, but he had already begun to leave. Elain looked to Lucien as he watched his brother warily, and he hardly seemed surprised when the other man paused at the room’s threshold. 

“Congratulations to the both of you on your engagement,” he said flippantly, over his shoulder. Elain could hear a flicker of doubt in his tone, perhaps a suggestion that he was not entirely convinced by their act. She wondered if Eris had mentioned it to him, if they were close enough to have shared such information. 

Elain noticed the irritation that flashed in Lucien’s eye, how the other one whirred. “Thank you, Callum.” 

It was clear to Elain that there was bad blood between the brothers, and while she was curious, Elain also knew that it would probably be very rude to ask Lucien about it. She watched as Callum left, glad that she no longer needed to play the role she had given herself.  

The doors slammed shut behind the Autumn prince, and Elain promptly let go of Lucien’s hand. She already missed the feeling, but to reach for him would be like an admission of how she so often longed for his touch when he was near. She put distance between them, almost tripping on the edge of the carpet in her rush. 

“Gods,” she mumbled, running her fingers through her curls. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath. Lucien’s scent, apples and summer mornings, lingered in the air. 

What have I done? 

Elain decided that she was a fool for coming to Autumn. She had no idea what she had gotten herself into, had been so desperate to save Lucien’s life that she had doomed them both. 

When Elain opened her eyes, she saw Lucien flexing his fingers, like the memory of her hand in his was enough to unsettle him. He had dark bruises along his jaw, clenched in what she thought was concern. There were blood stains, brown and aged, along the collar of his white shirt. A smear of dirt was on his temple and Elain could tell he had been treated poorly until she had come. 

Lucien was still the loveliest man Elain had ever seen, and she hated herself for believing it.  

“How in the hell did Feyre convince you to come for me?” Lucien asked, voice tired, like his own thoughts were weighing him down. 

Elain furrowed her brow, frowning at him. “Feyre?” She echoed, incredulous. 

At her question Lucien seemed to anger, only for a moment, before he spoke once more. “Rhysand, then, made you do this?” 

“No one made me do anything,” Elain hissed, keeping her voice down, remembering how careful Eris was with his words even when they had been alone. “I came for you because I chose to.” She was frustrated, angry that everyone assumed she could not make decisions for herself. It was with great effort that she kept her hands at her sides, that she did not begin pointing at Lucien with an accusing finger. 

“Why would you do such a thing?” Confusion and disbelief lingering in his words. 

“Because I felt like it,” she snapped, feeling very much like a child. Elain did not share with him that after so much death, so much change in the last few years, she did not think she could bear more. “And you should be thanking me, not questioning my motives.” 

Elain watched as he bent ever so slightly at the waist, the smallest of bows. He did not take his eyes off her as he said, “You have my thanks, Elain.” 

At the sound of her name falling from Lucien’s lips, Elain took a step towards him, the movement almost involuntary. “You shouldn’t call me that,” the impropriety of it all had Elain blushing, she attempted to tell herself that was why she could feel her heartbeat quicken. “You don’t have the right—”

“I think I do,” Lucien said with a shrug, “considering we’re about to be married.” 

It looked like he wanted to say more, but Elain interrupted. “It means nothing,” she was shocked at how snarled the last word was. “Nothing has changed between us,” her words held a finality to them.

Lucien ran a hand through his hair, “Not for one moment did I believe otherwise.” He sounded exhausted, Elain noticed. 

Briefly, Elain felt guilty for being upset with him.

Lucien shook his head, and as he spoke he did not look at her. “You shouldn’t have come to Autumn.” Elain could not say it with certainty, but she could have sworn fear leaked slowly down their shared bond. 

“Next time I’ll let you be killed,” Elain waved her hand dismissively. “What’s done is done, I can hardly tell your father I’ve changed my mind.” 

“I think we’re well past that,” Lucien confirmed. The silence between them was awkward, and Elain wished they had separate rooms, despite knowing it was for the best that they were together.

She could feel Lucien’s gaze on her, but Elain was looking at the comfortable armchair by the fireplace. She cleared her throat, “You take the bed.” 

Lucien did not argue with her, a testament to how utterly drained he must have been, Elain concluded. 

“Thank you, Elain,” he said softly, sincerely.

Elain was left with the impression that Lucien was thanking her for more than just the bed.

[tonberry-yoda]

FALL EVENTTTT!!!!!!

This is such a cute idea aughhh i love it

Could I request caught in the rain with Zoro????

tysm<333333

Caught in the Rain - Zoro 🎃

notes - AHHHHH THANK YOU! I was super excited about this when I saw a list of prompts and was like omfg yes I need to do that! And what a cute idea!! I love writing for Zoro and I just haven't done it in a really long time!! Thanks so much and have a seriously awesome day!! <3 word count - 387

It was normal that Zoro got the two of you lost on walks. And it was always normal that you followed him for some reason. It was totally on you that you guys were out in the middle of no where, surrounded by golden leaves and dark skies.

"I think it's going to rain, Zoro." you said, squeezing his arm.

You got nothing but a grunt in response.

"Just let me lead," you finally said. "You can't find anything for the life of you."

"It's not my fault." he pouted.

"It literally is your fault!" You wanted to be upset, but there was really no point in doing it since 1. you were used to it and 2. it wouldn't help find the way.

So you took a deep breath and tried to get your bearings.

Which, of course, was interrupted by a raindrop landing on your forehead.

You prayed that it was just one and kept moving, holding Zoro's hand so he wouldn't get any more lost than the two of you were.

But more came.

And more.

And soon, it was downpouring.

You wanted to be upset, you really did, but when you looked around at the rain falling on the leaves above, smelled the fresh rain air, and saw Zoro smiling at the sky, you couldn't help but smile.

"We'll find our way," you sighed, wiping some water away from Zoro's eyes. "But we gotta figure out how to get out of the rain first."

Zoro kept his eyes on the sky with a smile. "I don't mind being in the rain."

"But you'll catch a cold." You grabbed his hand and pressed a kiss to his knuckles.

"That's what Chopper's for."

"Working the poor little reindeer too the bone, now, are we? I'm just saying, let's get back so we can-"

As you started to walk away, you felt Zoro's hand on yours. You looked at him, who was soaked with rainwater and blinking the water out of his eyes.

"You look pretty in the rain." he said.

You froze and looked at him with wide eyes.

He pulled you closer to him and pressed a kiss to your forehead before trying to lead you both out of the rain.

"Zoro?"

"Yeah?"

"Remind me to never let you lead us anywhere ever again."

~~~~~

one piece masterlist | pinned post | ko-fi

2023 @tonberry-yoda– do not repost or claim ANY of my work as your own! likes, reblogs, and comments are not only welcome, but appreciated

~~~~~

[stanchett]

Hey, I saw your post about requests and I wanted to ask if I could request a fic with Larissa and f reader. Reader is very shy about Larissa and Larissa thinks she is trying to hide something (maybe that she is up to no good) but in reality reader is just trying to hide her massive crush on Larissa? thank you <33

Thanks so much for the prompt!! I hope this is alright :)

AO3 Link

Nervous

1.4k words

Larissa Weems made you nervous. That much was obvious, if only to you. Every time you passed her in the hallway, you all but held your breath until you were safely several paces past her. Especially when her choice in perfume made your head spin anytime you got a whiff. It didn’t help when she stared you down as you passed, almost like she could sense something was off about you. Her kind eyes and sweet smile kept her speculation guarded, however, so you never caught on that it hurt her feelings when you would hardly look her way.

----------

Being the newest hire at Nevermore, you knew your 90-day review was coming up, and quickly. You practically counted the days on your calendar, both eager and overwhelmingly anxious to have any sort of one-on-one time with the principal. She made your hands clammy, your voice shake and your thoughts clouded. You couldn’t help yourself. From the moment your interview for the position began, you knew you would be head-over-heels for the statuesque woman who now haunted your dreams in the best way.

Your review was 3 days away when you got an email from Principal Weems, reminding you to be in her office on Tuesday at 8am sharp. Your heart dropped, wondering if you should reply or just show up at her door when the time came. Tapping your pen on your desk, you decided on a curt reply of, “I’ll be there!!” and prayed your nervousness didn’t translate through the screen. As your students filed into the classroom for the day’s lesson on Outcast History, you dismissed the message from your mind and shut your laptop, picking up a green dry-erase marker. “Textbooks open to chapter 3 please! Let’s begin..” Your students listened with poorly-disguised disinterest as you outlined the coming chapter for them, your heart beating in time with the ever-ticking clock in the corner of the room.

The next day and a half passed you by in a blur. It was Monday night and you were depleted from the day you had; a typical Monday, your least favorite day of the week, the only exception being your confrontation with the principal thanks to a few students who made it their goal to disrupt the class and make your afternoon a living hell. You didn’t enjoy punishing your students, but you couldn’t help replaying that portion of the day in your head.

----------

After a sudden outcry from the back row of the classroom, you stood from your seat and scanned the students along the wall. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, aside from a clearly panicked young girl with her knees squeezed to her chest at her desk. Three boys were giggling under their breaths, and out of the corner of your eye you spotted a charcoal-colored spider scurrying into a crack in the floor. You took a deep breath and asked your teaching assistant to take charge of the lesson; you had no choice but to escort the troublemakers to the principal’s office. “You three, come with me. Let’s pay a visit to Principal Weems, shall we?” The deviants’ snickering quickly subsided as they gathered their belongings and trudged down the halls behind you, a small sense of relief overcoming you in knowing they couldn’t see the flush already coming over your cheeks at the thought of being in the presence of your crush.

You stopped at the looming set of mahogany doors before you, almost hesitating to knock. Shaking off your nerves, you tapped your knuckles against the wood. A soft “Come in,” resounded from the other side, and you pried a door open to find Larissa typing away on her laptop. Peering over the screen, a smile spread across her features, and you thought you would melt on the spot. Reeling in your feelings for the principal, you motioned for the delinquents to follow after you into the room. The last of the three tried to turn heel and run, but you quickly grabbed him by the backpack and dragged him in behind the others. The stunt pulled you back to reality as well. You cleared your throat as the group of you approached Weems’ desk, their heads all hung in shame. 

“Maybe you three would like to explain to Principal Weems why you think it’s appropriate to conjure spiders and harass your fellow classmates in the middle of a lesson instead of paying attention.” The principal’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, this being the first incident since your start at Nevermore. She looked to you, then to the young offenders, then back to you. 

After a long silence, one of them piped up, “We were just messing around.. We’re sorry,” followed by a chorus of apologies from the others. The principal, satisfied with their remorse, folded her hands on her desk and addressed the students directly. 

“Very well, you three will be serving detention with Ms. Y/L/N tomorrow afternoon. Please return to class and do your best to behave.” You turn to leave with them, more than ready to release the breath you had been holding since entering her office. “Miss Y/L/N, might I have a word with you?” You felt your blood run cold. She wanted to speak to you. Alone. You had been mentally preparing for your meeting in a day’s time, but her sudden request caught you off guard. You swallowed and turned back to her, avoiding her gaze. 

“Yes Principal Weems?” She stood from her place at her desk, carefully pacing around to its front where she leaned back against it and crossed her arms only a few feet from you. 

“Is there a particular reason you’ve been avoiding me as of late? Myself and the rest of the staff have been nothing but accommodating to you, and yet I get the sense that, perhaps, it isn’t enough. Am I wrong?” A concerned expression crosses her features, and you feel your heart break into a million pieces. You never meant to come across that way. You only wanted to keep your distance due to your shyness - and massive crush - and she interpreted it as you being standoffish. “Or perhaps.. There’s something you’re keeping from me?”

You hesitantly took a step forward, “N-no Ms. Weems, I don’t mean to come off that way at all!!” You spoke with your hands, as though they would help you verbally defend yourself, “I’ve just been.. Focused on my work, that’s all. I’m still adjusting to my new schedule and surroundings, it’s nothing personal.” You let out a nervous laugh. You couldn’t tell her the truth, she couldn’t know about how you practically fell in love with her the first time you set eyes on her. In a sudden burst of confidence from your false confession, you took the risk of letting your eyes wander up her figure, taking in her curves and porcelain skin. Her long fingers gripping her biceps in anticipation of your excuse. You flushed when you reached her eyes, already glued to you with an eyebrow raised in a silent question. She saw you check her out. You contemplate jumping out the nearest window when she steps forward and gestures to the door, implying you follow her.

“Thank you for easing my worries, Ms. Y/L/N. I’m glad we were able to clear things up between us,” she rests her hand on the knob, turning toward you to tower over you only inches away, her perfume invading your senses, “Oh, and Y/N?” You shyly look up at her through your eyelashes, embarrassment still written all over your face. Your name sounded heavenly on her lips. She leans down to your ear, her breath ghosting over its shell causing you to shiver. You hope to god she doesn’t notice. “See you tomorrow,” she whispers, her husky voice low enough for only you to hear. Pulling away with a knowing smirk, she opens the door to release you. Stumbling past its frame, you fail to notice the way she watches your backside as you all but run down the hallway. You’re too busy trying not to faint on your way back to your now-empty classroom.

[dominimoonbeam]

hi domini! im a big fan of your writing and have read every one of your redacted fics, you are incredibly talented and with each fic you upload you never fail to amaze me and lead me into a deeper obsession with your work

this is just a fic request! no pressure to write this any time soon, or at all, especially with your new job and moving day soon! my request is:

david/darlin neighbour au? like david always giving darlin leftovers because he "cooked too much food" for the 50th night in a row

again, you don't have to write this, especially with how i didn't give you much to work with lol. i just thought of it and would love to see you write it! good luck with your moving day soon, im so excited to see the pictures and so happy for you! have a great week and sorry for the long message <3

Anon, thank you so much for this!

I know it's been so long since you sent me these incredibly kind words and this ask and I haven't written any fics in that time. This was such a great way to get back into the characters and the fun of working on fics. I hope you enjoy this starter and know that your words really meant a lot. Thank you!

Neighbor AU.

Darlin/David

I will absolutely be posting this on ao3 soon and hopefully adding more to it. <3 <3

It started in the laundry room.

They’d been living in the same building, on the same floor, in the same corridor for the last year but never spoken—not until that evening in the laundry room.

David was putting a load in when the other tenant came downstairs, no basket in hand, just an armful of t-shirts, underwear, and towels. He tried not to watch but it was impossible. He’d caught plenty of glimpses of them over the months, in the hall and on the elevator. They were a storm wearing skin and a leather jacket.

With a huff, they crammed the ball of fabric into a machine and then peeled their shirt off and kicked off their boots, huffing annoyance as they unbuttoned and squirmed out of their jeans.

There was no way they thought they were alone in the room. David was not the sort of man that went unnoticed. He slammed the lid on his machine just in case.

The other tenant pulled their phone from the pocket of their jeans along with a wad of cash, and put it down to the side before closing the machine.

David raised an eyebrow and looked at them, really looked at them, wearing nothing but underwear and stepping back into their boots. They were lanky, all muscle and bruises. One hand rubbed the back of their head, ruffling their hair while jabbing the buttons to start the machine. “What?” they snapped, not even looking at him.

Their knuckles were raw and bloody and their side looked splotchy, like those ribs would be bruised tomorrow.

“Bad day?” David asked the scrapper.

They huffed again, this time grinning and turning enough to look at him. They had blood on their teeth and in their hair. “Nope.” They picked up their phone and the crumpled bills, both of them walking out of the laundry room and down the long hall to the elevator.

David followed them into the lift and waited. They jabbed the button for their floor.

They both walked down the hall, almost together.

The scrapper peeled off first at their door, only a handful of steps before David’s. They shared a wall. He only realized they weren’t carrying keys when they opened their apartment door. They hadn’t even locked it.

What a mess, he thought with a smile.

He saw them again when he was on his way to the basement to move his laundry to the dryer. They had showered and were wearing a pair of sweatpants.

They leaned against the dryer after starting it and watched him, not unlike how he’d watched them when they were stripping down an hour ago.

David let them. He’d called most people out on eyeing him in his life but this seemed like fair turn around. They started their machines and took the hall together again. This time, in the elevator, their stomach growled.

The scrapper rolled their eyes like it was a familiar nag and not a biological function reminding them of hunger.

He wasn’t sure what made him do it. He wasn’t exactly known for making the first move in making friends. “Do you like enchiladas?!

The door plinged when it opened and their neighbor looked over their shoulder at him, one eyebrow raised. The brow was split by an old scar. “What?”

“I made enchiladas yesterday. It’s too much. Do you want some?”

They were walking again, both of them moving a little slower than usual down the hall toward their doors. “Is that your way of inviting me in?”

He snorted. “I’m not inviting you in. You’ll get blood on my rug. I’m asking if you want some of the leftovers.”

Their smirk sharpened. “Do you think I don’t have food?”

He bit back a laugh, suddenly willing to bet their fridge was empty. “Forget I asked.”

They were at their door but paused.

He felt their gaze on him, considering him. He unlocked his apartment and was one step in when they suddenly said, “Okay.”

He looked back at them, standing in the hallway outside their door. They looked unsure and suddenly younger, softer. He could see the echo of what he imagined they’d been like as a kid, before they got tough. He nodded. “I’ll grab you a plate.” He held out his hand. “My name’s David.”

Their gaze flicked to his hand like trust didn’t come naturally, but they closed the distance and took it. “Darlin.”

He smiled before he could catch himself.

Luckily, they smiled back. “I know. Either my parents had a really different idea for who I’d be or they were assholes.”

David shrugged, dropping their hand after maybe a second too long of holding it to duck inside and make his way for the kitchen. “Maybe it suits you,” he said.

Darlin laughed, leaning against his open doorway. He didn’t mind if they came inside but he wasn’t sure they were willing to. Interesting. They’d leave their door unlocked but they weren’t quite ready to walk into a stranger’s apartment. “Yeah. Like calling someone tall Shorty.”

He laughed and pulled the dish out of the fridge. He cut a few enchiladas free and scooped them onto a plate. He would have wrapped it if he wasn’t sure they were going to eat it right away. He paused with it in hand and look at them. “Do you need to borrow a fork?”

Darlin’s expression bloomed in a huge grin. “Fuck you,” they laughed, holding out a hand for the food.

He crossed his apartment to put it in their hand. “See you around, Darlin,” he said.

They nodded, still smiling when they walked back to their place and inside.

David thought about that smile and that laugh all day afterward and the next time he saw them in the hall they talked more and Darlin had him wait in the hall to bring him the plate. They’d even washed it and promised they’d used soap and not just licked it clean. He tried to ignore the jolt that mental imagine sent through his whole body, but something about the way they bit their smile suggested they’d seen it too.

[bedtimescenarios]

The Highway

Based on this trope that I posted about recently: Whumpee having to pretend that Whumper is their friend, lover, etc. around other people . . .

CW: Kidnapping, injuries, mention of death, blood, non-con touch (not sexual), implied torture, and I think that's all:)

Whumpee panted, clutching the side of their abdomen. They gently lifted up their shirt, wincing as their knuckles brushed against broken, bruised ribs. The pain was intensifying with every step, and their skin was turning purple in too many places. But they couldn't stop. Not now, not when they were so close.

So, despite the stinging pain, they started running again.

They had reached the highway a while ago. At first, they'd been thrilled. It was something they didn't think they'd see again after being stranded in that facility in the heart of the forest for so long. No cars had passed by, which they were thankful for. They didn't want last year's incident to repeat.

Suddenly, the memories flooded their brain. That same highway. Them running, the car stopping to help them. Then, the screaming, the blood. Oh, God, all that blood..

"Please, don't! They're innocent!", they had begged.

To which, Whumper had simply responded: "You brought this onto them."

Those poor people didn't have to die. Death was their reward for being selfless, for trying to help Whumpee.

They still saw the couple whenever they closed their eyes, haunting their dreams as well as their waking life. If only...

They flushed the memories out of their head. Right now, they couldn't afford the guilt swallowing them whole. The only important thing was finding a police station. They sprinted along the highway, ignoring the painful feeling in their limbs. It was definitely less painful than what Whumper would do to them if they were caught, and they were aware of the closing distance between them. Their heart hammered in their chest, their breaths shallow, as whenever they took a full breath in, it almost felt like their ribs were being broken all over again. Run, Whumpee, they tried to motivate themselves. Keep running, or-

"There you are."

Whumpee's heart dropped. Their head whirled around, glancing at Whumper with wide eyes. He wasn't that close, but he wasn't far enough either. If they ran slower, he'd catch up with them.

How much could they keep the pace in their condition? Not long, they supposed.

They thought about venturing into the forest, but Whumper most certainly knew it better than they did. Whumper thought this was all a game, anyway. The highway held their best chance, which was still slim. But hope - it clung onto them like a virus. So they kept running.

At least, until they heard a car honk.

Please, just go. Drive further. Don't look at me, Whumpee pleaded in their head.

"Hey, you there!" A young man's voice echoed.

Shit. Whumpee's heartbeat was going crazy. It would've been better if they'd just died in that facility. Now, this clueless man was at risk. They couldn't let him find anything out unless they wanted him dead. They had to pretend...

They slowed down, put on a joyful face, trying to mask how scared they really were. As they turned, they glimpsed the car, a blonde-haired head sticking through a window. As he pulled over, Whumpee took a few deep breaths. They smiled at the passer-by.

For a second, their smile turned into a wince as they felt Whumper's arms wrap around their waist. The man didn't seem to notice, though, as he just stepped out of the car. Whumpee sunk their fingers into Whumper's arms, trying to mask their shaking.

"Hi, can we help you?" They said.

The blonde walked closer to them, a smile on his face. His eyes betrayed him, full of suspicion and doubt.

"Are you all right?" He addressed Whumpee directly.

Whumper's arms tightened around their body. A warning. Perhaps a reminder. Whumpee tried to seem confused by his question. "Of course I am, why would you ask that?"

"Well-" He quickly glanced at Whumper, "-I saw you running, and I was just.."

"Oh, don't worry!" Whumpee said cheerfully. "I'm just on a run with my boyfriend."

Whumper propped his head on Whumpee's shoulder, making them tense up. When the man's wary expression didn't change, they added: "You know that marathon, the one that's gonna take place in Queens next week?"

He visibly relaxed at the familiarity. "Yeah, you training for it?"

"Yep", Whumper responded, and Whumpee felt them grin. "We're pretty competitive, ya' know?"

Whumpee hated how casual this conversation had become. They wanted to just break down, beg for the man to help them. But they knew better.

"Yeah, I got you. Me and my wife are participating as well!" The man leaned on his car door. "She's wanting to keep fit with our 2nd baby on its way."

Whumpee gulped, but their mouth remained in a smile. "Congratulations!" They said, and the man nodded in gratitude.

"Well, we'll look forward to seeing you there." Whumpee said, silently begging all the deities they believed in to just have the man, the husband, the father, on his way as soon as possible.

"Yeah, us too!" He grinned, getting in his car and turning the key into the ignition. "Have a good day!"

It worked. Whumpee thought. At least he's safe.

"You too!" Whumper smiled, and as the man drove away, they added: "I know I surely will."

At least he's safe, Whumpee repeated in their head, trying to reassure themselves.

As soon as the car was out of sight, Whumpee dropped their act, their eyes teary. But Whumper stayed there, in the same position, his arms tightening even more around Whumpee, who just squeezed their eyes shut at the intensifying pain in their ribs.

Whumper leaned in and whispered in their ear. "I see you've learned. At least, now, the only one who's getting hurt is you."

[ch0wen]

I saw your post with the girl on the bed wearing sunglasses with the caption “y’all want anything from me?” And first of all that made me smile so thank you. Second Tan and Reader cuddles? I’m a sucker for physical intimacy.

“And then that stupid git wouldn’t let him go. So, I had to force his arms to release Lemon with a tire iron,” Tangerine rubbed his callused hands over his exhausted face as his lips curled into a smirk,

“Lem, told me the guy’s right forearm broke in three different places.”

You’re sat on the edge of your shared bed, raking your fingers over his bare thigh as he catches you up on his day. This has become a nightly affair for you and Tangerine. It's a way to make up for lost time by sitting together and talking over little accomplishments or big complications that may have occurred during your shifts. Tangerine always has more of the latter; Seemingly never skimping on the gory details. When it's your turn to speak, he sits close and listens intently to your stories. Even if you think your job as a teacher is comparably not as thrilling.

And although his body is visibly exhausted after his outings, he still listens attentively and offers advice. He likes these spoken reminders that you are not in danger while he’s away. He wants to know you have some normalcy when he faces chaos during his nine-to-five.

“It sounds like you did what you needed to do,” your hand gently caresses his face then brushes the hair away from his hooded eyes as he lays back. His skin slightly pink; Freshly scrubbed from his post-work shower.

“You did great, as always. Now please rest up, honey.”

Wearily, he hums in agreement. His hand grasps for yours before kissing your knuckles,

“Tell that little shit Frankie to start listening during the maths lesson or I’ll give him a good spook at recess.”

You giggle, “He’s five, Tan.”

His eyes are now closed but a playful smirk stays spread across his lips.

You take this quiet beat to rise off the bed and provide him with his much-needed rest. Your finger applies a bit of pressure to the light switch,

“Y/n?”

“Yeah?”

“Come back. Stay with me for a moment. I’ve been surrounded by lunatics today. I need some familiarity.”

You’re now snuggling into Tangerine’s muscular and warm arms. He nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck. Breathing you in deeply before letting out a content-sounding sigh.

“Better?”

“Much,” he squeezes you impossibly closer. His chest gradually rising and falling. You angle your head so it’s not pressed into his armpit and reach up to stroke his hair. He mewls a bit before his hold loosens; not letting you go but giving a sign that he has fallen asleep.

[n-odditty]

My Sonic Teams (1)

Hey, what do people think of odd team-ups like Blaze, Sticks, and, Bunnie [Sonic Heroes fan team-up]? I've always wanted honest feed back on these team combinations but never really got a good amount and would love to see the opinions on them! I have been having a hard time finding good amounts of feedback or places to have further discussions [I am a small acc so that's a given] but does anyone wanna give their honest thoughts?

Team Paramount: [Blaze, Sticks, Bunnie]

Tried to find good parallels to Team Primary[Team Sonic] with already existing characters . Sticks being more similar to Sonic and Blaze more similar to Tails, Bunnie being more mature and motherly as opposed to being more naive and brotherly like Knuckles, the gals set on specific goals rather than have danger come their way [Sonic's team usually has danger come their path and that's the next adventure their dealing with], Blaze met Sticks the same way Tails met Sonic and both girls met Bunnie when fighting Blaze's equivalent to Eggman.

I chose Sticks instead of keeping Marine because I think Sticks would fit better in Blaze's world instead of Sonic's. I also believe her personality would better bounce off someone like Blaze who is usually uptight and Sticks who is very free spirited and unhinged but also kinda uptight in her ways of viewing the world [or well, more paranoid than anything] but Sticks' overall kindhearted, blunt, and fearless personality is why Blaze loves her dearly and cherishes her as someone who saw her as a friend and not princess. Sticks' could care less about such titles so long as you aren't trying to suck her brains out for some weird science experiment. [I'd also like to add that Marine is very much still in the picture, just not in the main team dynamic. She's now Stick's adopted lil sister. How she came to raise her is similar to how Tails and Sonic met in the old Sonic The Hedgehog cartoons!]

Bunnie was roboticized by their version of Eggman and suffered a great deal of self-hatred thanks to it. While she doesn't regret doing what she did that led up to it, that being saving her smaller siblings, she hated how she was now essentially "a freak" and felt more alone than she did before the tragic event. How she overcame it was before meeting the other two, but they did help solidify her new found strength withing herself. Her family helped her overcome her loss, and facing her new life and reminded her that she still speaks, acts, fights, and loves like their Bunnie, and no change in her body removes such core aspects of herself. So when she ends up fighting side by side Blaze and Sticks, those reassurances couldn't be anymore evident. The girls help remind her of her strength and determination each time she feels any different, and so, their bond grew stronger and stronger.

So what do you guys think? Is it sound? I'd like to see how people think of some of the ideas I've come up with! ^^ If there are any oddities that people wanna ask about, please let me know! I also have an idea for who Blaze's Eggman would be but I wanna make that a separate post! Hopefully this catches your eye and that many of the things I've listed intrigue you enough to ask questions!

[imagoddamnonionmason]

Goose! Please tell me, is there a headcanon about Frank x Jodie's relationship that's been rotating in your mind but you haven't revealed yet?

Hi E!

YES! There is! I'll preface this with I'm pretty certain I've not mentioned it, but if I have, it will have been in passing; at least now I can go into a little more detail about it! I will also be adding a read more cause I think it's gonna get long-

One head canon I have for their relationship is how they ground each other in situations where their emotions either might be heightened or going through something mentally. For example, in some of my writings already, I've shown Jodie's moments of having little flashbacks, or reactions to certain stimuli that trigger a traumatic response due to her brainwashing (and general trauma). This is something that we could also attribute to Frank, too, given his long service in the military.

So, to get to the specifics, it's a small, subtle action. Simply, when either of them notices the other might need a little grounding, a reminder that they're not alone, or that they need to calm down, they will use their fingertips/knuckles of their fingers to either brush or tap lightly on the other person's hand/wrist.

The reason I've been thinking about it is because I knew that Jodie would be the kind of character that, when in turmoil, wouldn't want to be touched. If she's angry, upset, crying, she will not want to be touched (unless you asked and she invited it).

But I was also thinking that, especially given that Jodie has been brainwashed and Frank now has two people in his life that have gone through similar things, Frank would probably have a better idea of how to manage the moments where Jodie is 'not present'.

I've also seen it knocking around that Frank will also do something similar with Alex, those friendly pushes in cutscenes are a tactic Frank uses to make sure Alex is still grounded. Although I saw that after I'd already been thinking about this with Jodie and Frank, but it was nice to see that my understanding of Frank's character seemed to line up! Like, of course Frank would do something like that.

BUT Jodie does this for Frank, too.

I just thought having something so subtly intimate as a way for these two to interact in time of needing comfort (but maybe not wanting to be overwhelmed) is what will give me life right now.

BONUS: I had been speaking with @alypink regarding a face claim post I reblogged where Jodie's face claim, Kate Beckinsale, was wearing glasses. I do have a little headcanon that Jodie wears reading glasses to ensure she doesn't get eye strain.

POINT BEING, when they're in the workplace, maybe Jodie is reading some intel, combing through Birdseye view pictures of terrain - whatever it is. She's intently focused, enough that she wouldn't see Frank walking by. Just a little torment, maybe to break her attention for a split second (because this man knows Jodie will work herself into a hole and not take a break) he gently knocks the side of her glasses and sends them slightly skewed on the bridge of her nose.

Frank gives me an air of being able to be mischievously charming XD she'd look up at him, pouting with the glasses not corrected and he probably gets a little laugh out of it, whilst also achieving making sure that Jodie gets a small break (even if she doesn't realise that's his goal).

Sure he could straight up say, "take a break" but Jodie would also just be like "one more thing and then I will" but... respond that every damn time. Frank gets creative in making her break eye contact with the pages.

This headcanon is something a little softer, less serious, but thanks to Aly I couldn't stop thinking about that scene in my head.

[sergeantnarwhalwrites]

Final Fuck You to my Undergrad Uni

I personally think it's more like a monologue. But here it goes. A bit of a long piece of explicit writing about my 4 years at this shit hole. Glad to be done here ✌🏾. Grad pic beneath the cut

Tag list (normal poetry peeps and people I saw like the og post): @nanashi23 @winterandwords @vacantgodling @the-void-writes @weirdgirlcroix

Imma have to start this off with the fattest fuck you 

Fuck the campus 

Fuck the board of trustees 

Fuck the professors that should've been denied their doctorate degrees

And fuck you 

For thinking I'd respond kindly to all the times you've fucked me over

I wonder how many times I can curse 

Before you flag parental advisory 

To a campus full of fucking adults 

And those underage kids you drag in wasting potential 

On these hills that make me wanna eat ammo 

And chomp on gun barrels till my gums bleed 

And I get a few more cracks in my back teeth

I wonder how much money I've blown 

On liquor bottles that suck at deluding 

And beer cases that take their sweet fucking time 

In numbing my mental anguish 

Shits got those razor nails that can gouge 

And maybe I'd enjoy the sting 

If the bitch wasn't clawing out my eyes

Then stabbing straight through my stomach 

Twirling my intestines like spaghetti dinner 

With my blood gushing out onto the only carpeted floor in the fucking building 

Wouldn't be the first time this place tried to bleed a nigga dry. 

And my account's touched the negative for vending machine sodas and Monster energy drinks 

But at least they make damn good microphones

Cause I've gotten a little to used to putting on shows

Even if the alcohol, caffiene, and paranoid fuckery 

Warped my heartbeat

And it beats to the tune of decorating my fridge with knuckle imprints

Cause why the fuck would I spend money I don't have on a pretty decoration

And it even beats to climbing through windows for projects that root so deep the only thoughts I think are on the time that ticks by

And hunch a little more into myself as our equivalent of Walmart security roams the lit halls

And the clacking of their keys reminds me that I've imprisoned me

And sometimes my heartbeat matches my fists hitting my desk drawer 

Till the shit up top falls 

And the pencils are the only thing raining 

Cause I already spent all my money by just fucking living

And my heart tries not to beat through my chest 

When my family asking for funds that ain't ever exist

The fattest fuck you goes to 

This hell hole 

Where the flames are white hot with white people

Who love to toss shit into the flames 

And their alabaster babies 

Who ain't ever seen a black kid 

Say the world's most insensitive shit

And act suprised when their "ocean eyes" give reptilian beast instead

And I'd rather drown myself in the lab sink 

Chew on the bacteria loaded chunks along the way

Than pretend they're as gorgeous as this bitch ass campus.

I'd love to say thank you 

Hell I'd even say I'd love you 

It's a lie real easy to slip off the tongue as of late 

And maybe it's the brain damage of back to back all nighters

Or being dragged into unconsciousness on tables and radiators

Could even be the liquor that don't even taste the same 

And sometimes I still toss the cap and drink straight from the bottle

Drink that shit like the holy water I've never dared to bathe in

And I'm sure to keep my head back

Even if the shit tastes like failure and fear 

Then again when does a half assed attempt taste better than a solid victory

So I make sure I don't spill

And I'll beat it into the ground 

A STEM major is a wicked thing 

I lost two family members and couldn't even leave 

You suffer in every nook on campus just to come back home and asphyxiate in your at home lair

And I ain't one for wailing to fabrications 

In books translated beyond their original truths 

But God 

Thank fucking God 

I am done...

Wasn't so sure I'd live to see the end

And for that I'd drink again

And I'd find a use for all those middle fingers about to spawn

But for now I'll spare the vulgaruity

Cause my mouth real good at not being pretty