#there's a darkness here he can't quite shake // muse

[scribs-dibs]

gilded

sunday x reader, established relationship i suppose, ooc sunday perhaps, refs to sunday's trauma and a lot of his unwelcomed thoughts, ummmm it's very short guys idk

wc ; ~700-ish words

this is my (late) submission from the stellaronhvnters sillay halloween event! i used the prompt foliage this time :-)

"doesn't he owe this to you?"

Sunday lived in a gilded cage, and he liked it there.

It was safe in there, sacred, with the bars perfectly, evenly spaced, just enough room for him to see out of, just enough to see what a proper child should not  do,  just enough to see what he should be better than, just enough for him to see what naughty, rowdy children look like.

So when the cool breeze reddens your nose, and your eyes peek at him from over your scarf, and you ask him:

"Sunday, wanna play in the leaves?"

Of course, his careful, calculated answer is:

"I'll pass, thank you."

He doesn't quite understand why your face falls the way it does, but it sends a shiver down his spine. That response was wrong.

But who can blame him, really? His shirt is crisp and clean, and the leaves have crinkled and curled on the ground for ages. They're dirty. Proper, well behaved children stay at Gopher Wood's side, back straight and posture proper, safe inside his gilded cage. He longs for it, sometimes. The safety. The sacredness. The cleanliness.

But this isn't all bad either, he muses. This is as close to safety as ever— your hand is placed securely in his own, your bared flesh against his gloved one, and every so often you make sure to give your joined arms a hardy swing. You've all but shut him out of his office for the day, the sky turning a mellow pink as the sun sinks beneath the clouds. "Autumn" you had called it; Penacony removed the harsh breezes and early darkness from this season, and its reality would be distasteful if not for your unabashed enjoyment of it.

Your favorite part of this time of year, you've told him, is how the leaves change color. Greens disappear into warm gradients, and he supposes he can see the appeal of that.

But that doesn't mean he has to roll in them.

You nudge his shoulder, and he realizes he's spaced off. Uncouth. Pay attention.

"Come on Sunday! Can't we live a little?"

Sunday allows a short, clipped chuckle to escape him. Your face is scrunched lightly, the way it always gets when you want to pout at him uselessly. You refrain from doing that, sure, but Sunday can tell it's only a few minute twitches away from forming such an expression.

"We? I never said you couldn't indulge," Sunday presses a finger against the knit in your brow, ironing out the crease formed there. Such an expression causes wrinkles. "You can go ahead. I'll be here."

You shake your head immediately.

"It's not the same," you sigh, and Sunday knows that tone. It's disappointment, hard and sharp and cold. Though it is faint, a different flavor when encased in your gentler, kinder, form, he can still detect it a mile away. "But it's okay, we can still go to the cafe as planned."

You don't seem disheartened. You've moved on, gracefully, with the ease he both envies and admires from you.

Everything was set out for him in his cage. He had a role to play, and fulfilled it properly. Played all his pieces properly, too, made sure everything set out for him stayed in its proper place. When that all shattered, he was lost. It was your guiding hands that found him and picked up what was left of him. You...loved what was left of him in fact.

Now that he plays the role of "boyfriend," doesn't he owe this to you? Would this simple act be enough to start balancing the scales for the sin of loving him?

"Sunday?" 

Pay attention. Uncouth. Shame on you.

"It's not that big of a deal, okay?" Your own finger rubs at the crease in his brow. Normally, his facade is perfect, practiced. Ease is supposed to be the neutral face for a leader. He let his guard down.

"Look," you point, and overhead the trees shimmer with their reds and oranges and yellows, shining with the little scraps of sunlight that remain, "This is enough, isn't it? We don't have to jump in the piles if you don't want to."

Your hand in his grows tighter, and the reprimands that Sunday has repeated to himself again and again suddenly feel distant.

"Walking with you is more than enough, Sunday."

Sunday had lived in a gilded cage. But he supposes life outside isn't so bad, now.

Sunday takes a deep breath, and walks with you amongst the leaves.

•------------------------•

ty for reading 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ rbs & comments are appreciated !!

[remiivu]

Ghostly Companion-- Chapter 2

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Thank you everyone for reading! This chapter features mostly soft, domestic fluff as I work out the plot! Next update in ~3 days. Enjoy!

[Ao3 link]

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

“Hehehehe!” Is what you awoke to, followed by the heart-stopping blare of cars passing by way too close for comfort.

You jolt, held in place by Mr. Crawling’s firm arms. He laughs again, giving your face a poke. “Not ∎∎∎∎!” He coos rather loudly, and you sigh.

“Yeah, good morning, Mr. Crawling,” you say, despite the sun hardly being up. It’s actually still pretty dark, and as you survey your brand new area, you notice that you’re on a rather steep part of the mountains, adjacent to some dirt roads and the scarce road lights illuminating the area.

“∎∎∎ stops!” Mr. Crawling says, rocking the both of you gently in a soothing back-and-forth motion. Huh, for being dead and rather thin-looking, his lap was actually pretty comfortable. 

You eye the area, trying your best to repeat “∎∎∎?”

Mr. Crawling nods quickly with a smile. “∎∎∎!” He says, pointing at the road.

Oh, road?

But– wait, the road is very obviously continuing off towards somewhere, you muse quietly. Perhaps something more like… the path? If you look from his perspective, the monotonous dirt mounds, roots, and rockers were most definitely cut off by the road.

So, path will probably fit somewhat better.

You nodded, “Mhm, path stops. Go with me.” As you stand up, you groan a bit, stretching stiff limbs held tightly together for an extended period of time. Judging by the sky, he must’ve been dragging the two of you for a good amount of time.

You look right and left, and upon seeing no cars, you hurriedly cross the road, watching with relief as he does the same– in fact, he moves much quicker here, traversing the flat land with glee.

Upon crossing the road, you see the lights and tall buildings of your city, numerous of which you recognize based on the shape, ads, or colors. 

“Oh thank god,” you smiled, looking back once more to check on your ever loyal ghost. Though he most definitely didn’t understand your relief, he seemed to mirror your relaxed and happy demeanor, swaying ever so slightly as he waited patiently for you to continue.

You grinned, then began to carefully trek through the remaining hills and bushes, mostly following the road from a safe distance. After all, you weren’t quite sure whether or not other people could see your new companion, and you’d much rather get back to your tiny apartment without any extra screams or the need to act like Mr. Crawling wasn’t 2 feet behind you. 

Fortunately, Japan is much quieter at dawn than at midnight with most office workers having already gone home after a night of drinking or overtime. The few that remain were early risers much too tired to give their surroundings a second thought or still half drunk and passed out near the station or a random nook in an alley. 

Lucky, lucky, lucky you think to yourself as you made steady progress to your apartment building. Feeling slightly more rested and in a better mood, you allowed Mr. Crawling explore the new setting for a few minutes, laughing at his reaction to window displays or any vending machines you passed by.

You felt far more secure walking around an area you know compared to the mountains.

“∎∎∎∎!” Mr. Crawling says, stopping to inspect a small collection of Gachapon outside a large convenience store.

You let out a small snort, his amusement infectious. You can't remember the last time you were that excited over a capsule machine. Maybe it was elementary school? 

“Want one?” You ask, giving your bag a small shake to confirm that it still had coins in it.

Mr. Crawling brightened even more, “Me can?”

You fish out your coin pouch, digging around for some 100 yen coins. You pull out 2, handing them over to his hand and placing them in his palm.

You grab 2 more coins and demonstrate, picking out one depicting cute foods. You inserted the coins and twisted the lever, watching as a yellow ball rolled out. You picked it up, popping it open, and unfurling the wrap covering your brand new keychain, revealing a piece of cartoony buttered toast.

Mr. Crawling scooted closer, giggling out “cute cute cute!” as he poked and prodded at the small plastic thing.

Without a moment of hesitation, he inserts his coins into the same machine you had picked out, his hand turning the lever making a suspicious creak and clicking that, in your heart, signified something breaking. 

Ah, shit… you thought half-heartedly as he took his yellow capsule, popping it open and tearing off the plastic covering. He let out giggles, staring at his tiny new keychain.

A cute fried piece of mackerel with little x marks over its eyes.

You let out your own laugh, absentmindedly patting his head as he poked and moved his keychain. His head jerks up, grin radiant, as he says “Me like ∎∎∎! Thank you!” 

You felt your heart melt as you gave his head a rougher pat. “Of course. Me happy…uh– me happy you happy.”

Mr. Crawling gushed, lunging up to give you a tight hug that nearly brought you to the ground again. Your far more controlled yelp was cut off by your own laughs paired with his giggles as you combed your fingers through his hair. It wasn’t as neat as before, slightly ruffled up and tangled around small pieces of dirt, leaves, and rocks.

Yikes, he needed a bath. Do ghosts need baths? Well, regardless, you probably weren’t that far off, and the remains of dried blood would probably stop looking like the dried mud you knew other people assumed it was when the sun fully rises. 

And so, the moment was rather brief, interrupted by some cars passing by, but it was more warmth than you’ve ever really experienced since childhood, and you truly cherished it.

“Alright, c’mon,” You grinned, taking a half a step back to indicate you wanted to move. “We go.”

Mr. Crawling, as sweet as can be, followed after, keeping his new keychain as… safe as can be tucked between his razor sharp teeth, the little mackerel swaying against his chin and jaw.

You tried your best not to laugh at the sight.

The journey to your apartment afterwards was as tedious as you recalled, the same streets looking hardly any different despite the fact that you were basically kidnapped into a new world and nearly died quite a few times. And, while the rush of laughter was nice, you could feel the remaining exhaustion built up from the past 24 hours weighing heavier on your shoulders with every few steps, your hour-or-so long nap hardly the rest you actually needed.

But, you can’t deny, having Mr. Crawling by your side was the motivation you needed as you hiked up roads and through narrow roads as you began to walk away from the most busting parts of the city, entering a residential area that was fairly secluded from the main streets. 

Your building was more run down than most, cheap with some decent space for one person and some nice, elderly neighbors (that you really don’t want to traumatize). So, you opened the creaky entrance as quietly as you could, feeling confident that Mr. Crawling wouldn’t make much of a peep of noise until you reached your room.

You were 3 floors up, and you stopped yourself from letting out another huff of laughter at how at-home Mr. Crawling appeared to be on familiar concrete floors and stairs. That was too bad, honestly, as your house had wooden floors and some tatami mats, but a part of your mind, despite knowing how sturdy his limbs were, felt better that he wouldn’t be constantly kneeling and crawling on cold concrete floors like before.

And, really, it would be best for the both of you to leave that place as far behind as possible. In fact, you’d like to convince yourself that everything was a dream, and you simply found a ghost in the mountains like all the ghost stories had warned you about. No blood, no torture room, and no man in red.

All normal. Regular life. No deaths or blood or a creepy face peering at you from every dark crevice. 

You pull out your keys, giving your doorknob a soft rattle as it opens, and you breathe in a lungful of air you didn’t realize you could miss so much.

The air was slightly stale, but it was nothing an hour or so of airing out could fix. 

You walk in, kicking off ruined shoes by the doorway and hesitating for a moment when you see Mr. Crawling’s… attire.

It wasn’t bad. For crawling in a damp mountain, it was actually very clean, but you were still on the edge of letting dirt and grime inside.

But when Mr. Crawling tilts his head, mackerel clicking against his cheek, you felt yourself give in with a small sigh, and nod with a smile that you simply couldn’t help.

You walked in, waving him in, and once settled upon the hardwood floor, you shut the door tight, ensuring everything was locked.

“∎∎∎?” Mr. Crawling asked, mouth free of a charm. It was now back in his hands.

You hummed, giving him a blank look that you knew he knew meant you didn’t understand.

Mr. Crawling, hardly deterred, points at your home. “∎∎∎? You ∎∎∎?”

Hmm… You contemplate, looking at your room. Was he trying to say home?

“Home,” you say patiently in your language, watching as Mr. Crawling had a turn of looking confused. “...H..” He mumbles, and you nod.

“Home,” you pointed all around your home. “Home. Me home.”

Mr. Crawling followed where your finger was pointing rather comedically, head craning backwards and torso twisting around to see everything you were showing him. “You ∎∎∎. You… home?”

Your smile was instantly matched by his as you nodded quickly in affirmation. “Yes! Me home! Me language. Home.”

Mr. Crawling giggles, then crawls further into the house, exploring. You take the time to get settled, placing your bag on the hanger and plugging your nearly dead phone into the nearest outlet. Stretching your tensed, spent muscles, you finally took the time to look at yourself in the mirror and cringed at the sight.

Firstly, your hair was an utter mess, grime and browned blood crusting up in it, on your face, and on a good amount of the rest of your body. Your clothes were frankly ruined, and you’ll have to burn them or something. There’s no way you’ll be able to explain why that much blood from a presumably missing person is all over you.

You give a glance at Mr. Crawling who paused his cabinet-inspection to, in turn, look at you. 

… surely… you contemplate, not even registering the way he’s shuffling a bit under your gaze. Surely I can leave him alone for… 20 minutes? I need to shower at least… scratch the bath. I’ll probably fall asleep if I stay there. 

Mr. Crawling hurriedly began shoving stuff back in, the clacking and banging drawing you out of your thoughts.

“Huh?” You question, eloquently, as Mr. Crawling asks, holding a dustpan, “You mad?”

… Oh? “No, no.” You quickly reassure, crossing the room to bend down a bit and pet his head. “Me happy you happy. You… uh..” You pause, eyes scrunching shut as you begin digging in your mind for a word.

“You… can.” You eventually settle with, feeling assured that he understood when he smiled. You watched for another few seconds as he re-emptied the now-messy floor cabinet, digging out items that you’ve frankly forgotten about, before turning away with a small laugh and walking off to the bathroom.

You pulled out a spare set of clothes, dumping your current ones into a pile, and watched as grime and crust poured into the drain.

________________________________

When you step out, feeling refreshed and relaxed, you spotted a mini pile of mess surrounding your brand new roommate who seemed eager, mackerel keychain in mouth, to explore.

You hummed, observing his dirty appearance, before making a decision.

After all, you can’t have someone that dirty resting on a clean, white futon– or even the tatami mats he thankfully hasn’t walked over yet. He needed a bath earnestly. 

“Mr. Crawling,” You say, watching him turn in excitement.

“Hello!” He greeted, crawling towards you.

A brief half-second thought ensures that you truly had no word associated with water, wash, or anything along those lines, so you simply pointed into the bathroom, motioning towards yourself and your clean body.

“Uhm, wash. Bath,” You said, heading inside the still steamy room as you rinsed the tub and began filling it with water.

Mr. Crawling inspected it, peering at the warm water. “You,” you said, pointing inside the filling bathtub, followed by the motion of you washing your hair.

He tilts his head, jaw gently chewing at the keychain in his mouth. Then, when he sunk his arm in, you nodded fervently. “Yes yes,” You encouraged, motioning for him to get in.

When he sinks in, clothes bubbling to the surface, you contemplate asking him to take it off, but…

Yeahh, maybe not. You weren’t ready to see… whatever male ghosts had down there.

You pushed the fabric into the water, letting it soak up water until it sunk on its own and grimaced at the small wave of dirt that rose to the surface.

Yikes.

_____________________

Giggles erupted from the bathroom followed by small shouts of laughter periodically for the next 30 minutes as Mr. Crawling enjoyed the bath, splashing water out the tub and nearly melting when you firmly scrubbed his scalp and feet-long locks of hair.

You had drained and refilled the tub about 3 times now, the water finally a consistent clear color, that allowed you to wash and rinse the poor guy with some peace of mind.

“Good good! Happy!” Mr. Crawling cheered as he pushed his head up against your palms and fingers pressed against his head. “Thank you! Thank you!”

You laughed yourself, rinsing out the shampoo by scooping up buckets of water and pouring it over his head. “You really needed this,” you mused, gently layering a thin amount of conditioner onto his hair and letting it sit out on the side of the tub.

You can already see your bank account taking a foreseeable hit once your hair products run out.

Mr. Crawling giggled, taking out his now-warm arms to pet your (thankfully still wet) hair as you briefly scrubbed his legs and arms and attempted to wash his torso through his clothes. They seemed to be thin enough, after all, and it doubles as washing the fabric.

You snorted as hair fell into your face, large damp fingers clumsily pushing them away before you could really react. “You safe!” Mr. Crawling chirped, using his warm hands to cup your face and keep anything else from falling onto your eyes.

You felt your heart skip a beat as your cheeks began to warm themselves up, a soft smile firmly planted on your face. “And you’re very sweet,” you hum good naturedly, finishing up with a last rinse, drain of the tub, and wash down with the nearby showerhead.

You squeezed out as much water as you possibly could from your brand new sentient, crawling mop before helping him out of the tub and onto a towel. You gave him a small warning, motioning him to cover his ears as you plugged in the hairdryer, doing your best to dry him off.

He giggled, pulling his hands off his ears after a few moments and observing the hairdryer, reaching out to touch it a few times. “Cool! Noise ∎∎∎.” He said, watching his hair fly all around the room.

By the end, your arms were sore and your eyelids were heavy with the need to sleep, but he was dry and clean– very, very clean, skin no longer various shades of gray and clothes a step lighter than they used to be.

Before you could stand up and begin your voyage to your bed, he gently tugged you down, pulling you to sit on the towel.

“Huh?” You ask, watching as he fiddled with your hairdryer. He giggled when it roared to life, pointing the heated air at your head and clothes.

Oh… You relaxed, smiling as he tried his best to dry off whatever remaining moisture was in it. It was only slightly damp anyways, the air having done its job, but the tenderness of his fingers trying to run through your scalp and the warmth of not only the hairdryer but also the comfort of returning to some sort of semblance of a normal, soft, and loving life was enough to give rise to brand emotions that surged up from your chest and into your eyes. 

You did your best to choke out anything threatening to escape your throat, but there was no hiding the tears burning in your eyes or the way your body tensed up against the knees pressed against your back. 

Suddenly, the hairdryer shuts off, and a head smelling like your favorite shampoo pops in your vision, followed by “You sad? Hurt? Sad, you sad, me ∎∎∎.”

You sniffled, giving yourself that at least, and shook your head, quickly wiping off any tears. “No. No, me happy. You… nice. You nice… much. Me happy. Thank you.” 

Still, Mr. Crawling looked concerned, giving your body a quick check over and closely inspecting your head to ensure he really didn’t hurt you. When he finds nothing, he leans back, crawling to your side.

“You rest?” He says, and you give a jerky nod.

“Yeah, me… rest. Need rest.” You mutter, standing up and kicking the towels off to the side as well. You could clean that up later.

You lead Mr. Crawling out the room and into the small alcove covered in a tatami mat, opening a cabinet and pulling out 2 futons, unrolling them onto the floor. You then grabbed your pillows, blanket, and hurried to make yourself as comfortable as possible, handing him his set so that he could do the same.

But, instead of setting up his bed like you, he just sat right beside you intently, merely laying down the futon and pressing his pillow against your side.

“What are you doing?” You mumble, voice slightly nasally and eyes a bit puffy. You simply laid down, too tired and half-embarrassed to remain sitting up, but let out a small noise as his body laid on top of yours.

“What are you–”

“You rest,” Mr. Crawling says with a smile, face pressed against your abdomen and his blanket resting against his legs. “You rest. Me ∎∎∎∎ you safe.”

And, honestly, you don’t bother with trying to refute anything anymore. You sighed, letting your overworked muscles relax and gently resting your hand on his head. You were home, you were safe, and you… you weren’t alone. You had someone there with you now. Someone who protected you and could keep you safe in your sleep.

You blink open your eyes briefly when you felt something cold and foreign press into the other hand resting at your side, but upon seeing the small mackerel and toast keychains resting in your palm, you let out a small snort and let your eyes fall shut once again, mumbling a small “goodnight..” as you felt yourself drifting off to sleep almost immediately.

.

.

.

.

“...g…goood…niight…”

That's all! Gave you guys a bit of a longer chapter (~3.2k words) as an extra thanks! Hope you enjoyed ^^

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[Ao3 link]

[rosesareredrosa]

One More Chance

Mattheo Riddle x fem reader

Summary: Y/n stumbles upon Mattheo while going to the library after they broke up but Mattheo wants One More Chance in their relationship

w/c: 832

The dimly lit corridors of Hogwarts were quiet, the echo of footsteps bouncing off the ancient stone walls as Y/N made her way towards the library. The evening was drawing in, the golden light from the setting sun filtering through the narrow windows and casting long shadows. She pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders, more out of habit than need—after all, it was late autumn, and the chill had only just started to creep in.

As she turned the corner, she nearly bumped into someone. Y/N took a step back, her breath catching when she recognized who it was.

"Mattheo," she greeted, her voice coming out steadier than she felt. She hadn't expected to run into him, not here, not now. Her pulse quickened, memories she had tried so hard to bury threatening to resurface.

Mattheo Riddle stood there, hands shoved into the pockets of his robe, his dark eyes watching her intently. There was a glimmer of something—mischief, perhaps?—that danced behind his gaze, something that had always drawn her in. His tousled curls and easy smirk were as infuriatingly attractive as ever.

"Y/N," he replied, his voice smooth, carrying a hint of surprise that he didn't bother to mask. "Fancy running into you here."

She stiffened slightly, unwilling to let herself be swayed by the familiar charm in his tone. She had built walls around her heart since they had parted ways, and she wasn't about to let him chip away at them again.

"I was just heading to the library," she said coolly, sidestepping him. "Excuse me."

But Mattheo moved too, blocking her path. "In a hurry?"

Y/N sighed, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "What do you want, Mattheo?"

He tilted his head, studying her as if trying to unravel a mystery. "I just wanted to talk."

"We have nothing to talk about," she retorted, keeping her tone brisk, despite the way her heart thudded in her chest.

"Is that so?" Mattheo mused, not moving an inch. "You don't still have feelings for me, do you?"

The question caught her off guard. Heat rose to her cheeks, but she forced herself to meet his gaze with a sharp glare. "Oh, why would I? We broke it off for a reason, didn't we?"

Mattheo's smirk faltered, replaced by a more serious expression. His eyes softened slightly, and for a moment, the bravado dropped. "We did. But it doesn't mean it was easy. Or that it didn't matter."

Y/N felt her resolve wavering, memories of late-night conversations, shared secrets, and stolen kisses flooding her mind. She had convinced herself that ending things was for the best, that they were too different, that he was too reckless and she too cautious. But the truth was that she had never really let go of him.

She shook her head, determined to keep her emotions in check. "It doesn't matter anymore, Mattheo. We made our choices."

He sighed, his posture relaxing as he leaned back against the wall. "Maybe. But I can't help but wonder…if we made the right ones."

Her heart clenched at his words, but she forced herself to stay firm. "You can't change the past."

"Maybe not," he conceded, "but the future? That's still up for grabs."

Y/N bit her lip, torn between the desire to walk away and the pull of what could be. The chemistry between them had always been undeniable, a spark that never quite fizzled out, even after they parted ways.

"Why are you saying this now?" she asked, her voice softer, almost vulnerable. "What's changed?"

Mattheo looked at her with a seriousness she hadn't seen before. "I realized that letting you go was a mistake. I've been thinking about it a lot, and I can't shake the feeling that we gave up too easily."

She stared at him, unsure of what to say. Part of her had hoped he would say something like this, while the other part was terrified of reopening old wounds. "Mattheo…"

He stepped closer, his voice low, earnest. "I'm not asking for everything to go back to the way it was. But I am asking for a second chance. To see if we can figure this out, together."

Y/N's heart pounded in her chest as she looked up into his eyes. She saw sincerity there, a glimmer of the boy she had fallen for mixed with the man he was becoming. The future was uncertain, but as she stood there, she realized that maybe, just maybe, it was worth taking the risk.

"Alright," she whispered, barely believing her own words. "One more chance."

A slow, genuine smile spread across Mattheo's face, one that made her heart skip a beat. "One more chance," he echoed, his voice filled with promise.

And as they stood there, in the quiet corridor of Hogwarts, it felt like the beginning of something new—something that had been left unfinished, but was now ready to be written.

[softmangoes]

First, I just wanna say, I adore your writing. From your word choice to the way you convey every emotion, it is nothing short of stunning.

I binged all of your writing, and I was so thrilled to find your DoL fics!!!! If you’re feeling inspired, I’d love to see your take on the LIs reacting to the PC becoming a Fallen Angel, especially if the PC fell for them (like, letting them take the PC’s purity).

In game, it feels kind of tragic falling, especially when doing the quest for the spear, but on the other hand, the whole, who needs a God’s love when I have you is a special type of romantic that I really love.

I hope you have a wonderful holiday season if you celebrate! If not, I hope you’re having a wonderful winter in general!!!

hi hello!! thank you for all your kind words and i'm so glad you liked my dol fics!! 💛

the graciousness of your message has filled my well of inspiration, so here you go and i hope you also enjoy this 🥭

"why me?" pure!sydney says between breaths, between kisses that only make you both yearn for more. your skin is hot against his, while the wall of the library's private study room is cold against his back. he knows he shouldn't be doing this, that the temple would strip him of his status, and that your embrace marks the end of something he's been building all his life.

so why him? you are a holy thing, after all. untainted. pure.

and yet, as you grind against his length, the slickness of you irrestible now that his cage lies beside him in fragments, he finds no trace of regret within him - only reverence, only devotion. only the urge to take your breast in his mouth and to finally slip his length inside you, savoring the warm wetness that anoints him with the miracle of your consummation and the sound of your song.

"because it's me," he murmurs, his hips finding the pace that makes you shudder. after all, why can't a study room be a holy place? who says the bruises from his lips can't count as praise? when he feels you tighten around him, your feathers smoldering as your voice cracks in pleasure, he has his answer. "because," he gasps, reverence threatening to spill. "there's no one better to worship you."

"all saints die," corrupt!sydney murmurs, breath hot between your thighs. his fingers are digging into your hips. the marble altar is cold against your back. you both know you aren't supposed to be here, but there is a thrill in the forbidden.

he dips his tongue into your warmth, the sensation of his veneration smoldering even moreso than the feathers charring on your back. "what is this, but another apotheosis?" he muses, pulling his midnight hair into a ponytail. "another transformation?"

you feel thrilled at the comparison, knowing how you have both changed each other.

a dark force churns within you, tight and coiling. you recognize it as hunger, as the lust you have denied yourself so long in the face of virtue. but what use is virtue, when it can be easily cleaved by the warmth of a hot tongue? when the eyes that behold you in worship reflect the same golden light that used to grace your skin every day? as if sensing your hunger, sydney slips his fingers inside you, filling you. your hips sway into his touch, wanting more. wanting to burn together.

you shake in whitney's embrace, whimpering at the pain, the burning, the visions of the world cracking open and corruption spilling through like so many hungry tentacles reaching to engulf the light. and yet, you would do it all over again to feel his breath, his skin, his desire for you all for the first time.

"hey," he says, scooping cold water onto your tender back. it does little against the fire you feel in every feather, the taint eating away at each filament. "stay with me." there's a tinge of panic in his insistence. you aren't quite sure whether it's real or a hallucination. although he is your former tormentor, this is a kind of pain he is unfamiliar with, yet committed by his hand all the same.

your eyes dull. whitney adjusts his weight, water sloshing in the bath. he jostles you, willing you to stay conscious. whatever the fuck is going on with you, you can't leave him. you can't go before he knows how to help you.

before the darkness takes you, the last thing you hear is him telling you he is sorry.

there are tears in kylar's eyes. "it hurts?" he says, daring to touch your half-singed feathers. you nod, straining to unfurl them to reveal the slow fire eating away at the soft ivory. your halo is cracked, bleeding inky corruption that sizzles upon contact with the air. "it's because we...." his voice shakes, the guilt lancing through the pleasure of your skin just moments ago. "we..."

how dare his selfishness cause your agony. if only he could unmake a moment, exercise even a minute of restraint. perhaps then, you wouldn't be in this pain. his fingernails dig into his palm, teeth sinking into his lips as tears stream down his face freely.

but your mouth covers his, your soft tongue lapping at the blood beading on his lips. your kiss, so gentle, feels nothing like lament. only the delicate grace of forgiveness.

"you're beautiful," eden says, mouth hot against the hollow of your neck. when he first saw you, wings unfurled in the light of the clearing, he thought that you were some kind of strange bird. right as he leveled his shotgun to take aim, he remembered you turning to face him, a look of surprise gracing your features as you beheld the man who would have been your end.

it was a while before he first touched you. your skin burned. the air in the cabin would ripple from your heat. even the bars of the cage threatened to warp. in the cold of the winter, your rage radiated at your confinement, a prized bird trapped in crude metal.

the hunter knew that he was not worth your beauty. your very presence made the shadows of his past all the more darker. you were an angel, a being of pure light, and all he wanted to do was take your warmth for his.

then one day, like a miracle, you came for him. he had collapsed into the cabin, his body stiffened by the cold. hair cracking with ice. he had fallen into the lake while fishing, the ice sheet far thinner than what he originally estimated. he looked at you, glowing in the dark of the cabin, teeth chattering as he unlocked the cage with his hand outstretched.

"go," he rasped as the door swayed open. "it won't be long until -"

warmth spread across his body the moment your mouth pressed against his. you tasted like honey, like sunlight, like every summer he never thought he would live to see. to his surprise, he found you breathless, lips at his neck, telling him to take you.

"why?" he asks, voice hoarse. his fingers run through your hair. because he fell, you tell him, and it was only right that you would as well.

"something's burning," robin says, fear tinging his desire. "is it you? we can stop -"

you silence him with a kiss, tongue tasting his lust for you. your feathers are charring, your halo cracking. before this, you had both talked about the consequences of what would happen. once you were intertwined, there would be no going back. the both of you would be burned into each other's lives forever.

besides, this moment feels less like falling and more like flying: robin's warm eyes on you, his soft mouth parted in pleasure, each sway of his hips bringing you both closer to sweet oblivion. all you can do is card your fingers through his hair as he whimpers against you, sending you both soaring into the heights of a new heaven.

"the moon waxes and wanes," the wraith says, tentacles tracing the darkness of your once brilliant wings. one of them prods at the shards of your halo, corruption leaking from its fragments. you wince, the pain sharp despite the gentleness of the abomination's touch. "and even when it bleeds, it is beautiful."

tendrils, thick and strong, knead along your shoulder blades right where your wings protract from your back. this earns a sigh of relief from you - one that he drinks eagerly with his cold mouth.

"flight must make you ache," he says, his voice nothing less than a sonorous purr. "i may be able to assist."

with his lower pair of hands, the wraith lifts you against the walls of the ruin. he slips inside you with ease, your fingers grasping the silver threads of his hair as you take him. his countless tendrils suckle and writhe against your skin, drawing sounds that echo into the darkness of the ruin. the wraith is a force, a wave of pleasure that does nothing else but pull you further and further into its depths.

after all, you chose to sacrifice the love of a god for the heart of a monster. what else can he do, except devour you?

[silkjade]

in the moment we’re lost & found

Featuring— albedo, kaveh, zhongli, dainsleif ⤀ gn!reader, reincarnation au but also a some soulmate au vibes (?), dark / light academia themed a/n: i picked charas i thought would suit the aesthetic cus my favorite flavor of reincarnation au has to do with art and museums / luv history + art + museums + galleries !

— 𝐀𝐋𝐁𝐄𝐃𝐎

as an up-and-coming artist, albedo is a rising star in teyvat’s art world, but lately he’s been haunted by a face he sees only in his dreams. it’s unclear, and it drives him insane that he can’t quite make out all the details of this mysterious figure. albedo, whose artwork is notoriously lifelike, knows that something just isn't right; something is missing and he can't quite grasp it. countless times, he's tried to translate the idea of you onto paper, and countless times he's ripped out pages of his sketchbook, the abandoned drawings left crumpled in random corners of his studio, of his house, of his room. they say the mind is unable to create faces of its own so where did you come from? it consumes him— the way you replay in his head once he closes his eyes, as if he'd somehow stolen the memories of somebody else. perhaps this is what the tortured artists sing of when they descend to madness, haunted by an absent muse. at least… until the fateful day he sees you out on the cobbled streets of mondstadt. you pass by quickly, the moment as fleeting as a shooting star, and something in albedo clicks. he doesn’t have time to think, he just moves. his muse is here now within reach; how can he risk letting you slip away?

— 𝐊𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐇

careless collision, staggering steps… you snap your eyes shut as you try to mentally prepare yourself for the utter humiliation of falling into the akademiya fountain. except it never comes. your eyes flutter open, and are instantly met with just about the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. however, his expression is one of shock, as if he’s just as surprised as you are of his own actions, and truth be told, he is. because he seemed to have been able to watch the scene unfold, even before the other party had bumped into you. because kaveh is sure something had come over him, with the way time appeared to have stopped and his legs moved of their own accord. like his body was suddenly able to predict the future, or that it was the work of some absurd sense of muscle memory. even so, the weight of you in his grasp feels uncannily familiar. in a good way. it feels right; it feels like he had waited his whole life for this moment.

and suddenly you're hyperaware of how close the two of you actually are— but also of how safe you feel with his arm wrapped around your waist, or of how his large doe eyes seem to peer into your very soul, the carmine hues dancing with renewed life. you really can't shake the overwhelming feeling that you've met before, that perhaps this isn't your first time around at all. and so you have to ask, “have we met before?”

"no, but I'd like to again."

— 𝐙𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐈

you quite literally walk into zhongli, knocking his documents out of his hands and all across the marble floor of liyue’s national museum. zhongli sighs without looking up; he had spent the better half of a day organizing contracts and paperwork for a loan agreement to inazuma, though he supposes he should share in the blame for not watching where he was going. hundreds of years have passed since the immortal ex-archon worked as a funeral consultant; these days, zhongli opts to spend his time surrounded by artifacts of bygone times and bygone people. but when he looks up, his golden eyes widen and his blood runs cold at the sight of you in front of him. he freezes, as if time seems to have stopped for the both of you. his focus shifts back and forth between you and the painting across the room: a seemingly ordinary portrait, dated from around the time of the blonde traveler. still, whenever asked, he can confidently say that it’s his favorite piece, even in this house of invaluable artifacts and monuments to heroes, even among all the rich antiquities teyvat has to offer. and here you were in front of him, a perfect match to the painting's subject. the one whom he had once held so dear before being torn away by the hands of time, is now kneeling on the floor in front of him, frantically trying to gather the scattered documents, of which he had long deemed irrelevant. he feels his impenetrable stone heart flutter for the first time in what feels like a millennia because it’s you. he's sure of it. it's you, it's you, it's you.

— 𝐃𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐈𝐅

ever since your move to mondstadt, you've started having satin dreams of knights and castles, false flowers and fictional faces; dreams that undoubtedly end in war and destruction because everything shifts. castles crumble, faces morph— it becomes a nightmare so vivid it feels more akin to a memory than a dream. but through it all only one thing remains constant in that, in every iteration, you always fall in love with the same blonde man.

wandering the tranquil halls of mondstadt's national gallery, you find yourself before The Destruction of Khaenri'ah, a painting tragically beautiful in it's depiction of the ancient nation's condemnation by the heavens. you feel your eyes threaten to water, the ache in your chest an indication that the same anguish you've felt in your nightmares, has now sunk its claws into your heart. it's the first time a piece of art has moved you like this. so much so that you’re rooted in a trance-like state until someone beside you clears his throat, snapping you back to reality. he himself also gazes at the painting although his arm is outstretched; a handkerchief in offering for your tears. it isn't until your fingers brush against his that the blonde man turns to meet your gaze. shades of cerulean, bluer than the depths of the seas, all a mere backdrop to the stars shining in his eyes. stars that match the ones sitting in your own eyes. your heart skips a beat at the revelation. it's him, the man from your dreams. he’s real.

© silkjade — do not steal, plagiarize, translate or repost any content onto any other platform

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

𓅨 Love in the Dark: Chapter Five

Love in the Dark: You discover an intense connection with an enigmatic dream lover, yearning for a love beyond physical appearances. As your encounters blur the lines between the waking world and the Dreaming, your grapple with the complexities of desire, friendship, and mortality. Can you truly love in the dark?

Warnings: Language.

To Note: Morpheus/Dream x NAMEDFem!Reader.

Word Count: ~2.7k

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Perched atop a marble table in the grand library, you swing your legs back and forth, enjoying the peace and quiet that permeates the room. Or perhaps not so quiet, you are having a conversation. Matthew and Fēlix are both at your side, engaged in a light-hearted debate about palace rumors. The former's feathers ruffle as he speaks with the distinct lilt of a man turned raven. A spicy one at that.

"Lucienne told me that Cain and Abel are at it again," Matthew says, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "They've been arguing about who gets to host the next feast."

Fēlix scoffs, shaking his head. "Those two could argue about anything," he replies, his eyes glinting with mirth. "Eons and they still can't seem to get along. I blame it on their story."

"Yeah, doesn't Cain kill Abel every day?" You hum a yes to Matthew's question and wonder how Goldie is doing.

"They have to relive their story; it's part of them being denizens within the realm," you explain, glancing at Fēlix who nods in agreement.

"Must be exhausting," Fēlix muses, leaning forward now, his interest piqued. "I mean, imagine going through that every single day. Cain digs a hole, every single day, forever. At least he doesn't seem to mind it, I've seen their laundry bills. Blood is a bitch to get out of clothes."

"That's what hydrogen peroxide is for," You interject lazily, swinging your legs some more. You glance around the library, taking in the high ceilings, intricate carvings, and towering shelves filled with books, their spines stamped in glimmering gold.

The scent of old parchment and ink fills your nose, bringing a sense of comfort and familiarity. Despite its grandeur, the library has always felt like a cozy sanctuary to you. A place where you can escape the chaos of the Dreaming and simply lose yourself in the pages of a story. When not within the arms of your dream lover.

"So, what else is new around here?" you ask Fēlix, picking up where your conversation left off. "Any other juicy tidbits you've heard?" You pull up your legs and lean forward, resting your chin on your knees, eager for some form of entertainment.

Fēlix pauses for a moment, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "Well, I heard that Rhyme is trying to teach Riddles how to dance," he says, grinning, his cardinal compass glowing brightly. "Apparently, they've been practicing in one of the empty ballrooms."

Matthew snorts, shaking his head. "Can you imagine? Riddles, dancing? I bet it's quite the sight."

You can't help but laugh at the mental image. Riddles, with his perpetually stern expression and rigid posture, attempting to glide across the floor in time to the music. It's quite amusing to think about. He doesn’t have the feet for dance.

"I wonder if they'll ever perform for the rest of us," you muse aloud. "It'd be quite the show, I imagine."

Fēlix shrugs, his shoulders lifting beneath his dreamy golden robes. "Who knows? Maybe we can convince them to give us a private performance sometime."

"Or just have a ball," You throw in.

Matthew's beady eyes sparkle at the idea, and he hops up and down, a flutter of black feathers. "A ball? In the palace? Can you imagine? The music, the food, the dance! The food!"

"You said food twice," You point out as Lucienne, seated across from were you are perched on the table, lifts her head from the book she's been engrossed in. Her glasses perch on the bridge of her nose, reflecting the warm light of the candles scattered around the room.

"A ball?" She raises an eyebrow, peering over her spectacles. "What's all this about a ball?"

Fēlix leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest and grinning at Matthew. "It was just an idea," he explains. "Imagine how fun it would be to have everyone dressed up and dancing around!”

Lucienne looks thoughtful for a moment before shrugging. "It could be fun," she admits. "But it would also be a lot of work and we would have to broach the subject with Lord Morpheus."

You glance at Lucienne, intrigued. "Do you think he'd go for it?"

Lucienne shrugs, her glasses glinting in the soft candlelight. "Who knows? Lord Morpheus is full of surprises."

Matthew lets out a soft caw, his feathers ruffling in amusement. "I'd love to see him all dressed up for a ball! He's got style."

Fēlix chuckles, the sound echoing around the quiet library. "Who says he hasn't done it before? I've heard stories about his penchant for balls. What do you think, Kora?" Fēlix asks, turning to you. "Would you like to dance with Lord Morpheus at a ball? I bet you would look incredible."

"I've never even met him, why would I dance with the Lord of the Realm?" You ask, hugging your arms around your folded knees. "Besides, I have absolutely no idea how to dance and you all know I have eyes for someone else, thank you very much."

"Like I wouldn't teach you," Fēlix huffs.

You blink at Fēlix, a small chuckle escaping your lips. "You? Teach me to dance?" You give him a playful nudge with your elbow. "That'd be a sight."

Fēlix shrugs nonchalantly, his cardinal compass glinting. "I happen to be a great dancer," he says, feigning offense. "Matthew can vouch for me."

Matthew chortles, the sound akin to the crackling of dry leaves underfoot. "Fēlix has two left feet," he caws, earning a light swat from the dream in question.

"You're just jealous," Fēlix retorts, sticking his tongue out at Matthew.

The raven only squawks in reply, fluttering his wings.

Ignoring their banter, you slide off the table and wander over to one of the towering bookshelves. You run your fingers along the spines of the books, their embossed titles glimmering beneath your fingertips.

"What about you, Lucienne?" you call over your shoulder, plucking a book from the shelf at random. "Would you dance at this hypothetical ball?"

Lucienne hums thoughtfully from her spot across the room. "Perhaps," she replies after a moment's pause. "It's been quite some time since I last danced."

You grin at her response and open the book in your hands. It's an old fairy tale, one you've read countless times before but never tire of. A loud raven call draws your attention away from the book and back to Matthew and Fēlix who are now arguing about whether Goldie could beat Cain in an arm-wrestling match.

"I think she could," Fēlix says, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. "Goldie's stronger than she looks."

Matthew squawks in disagreement, flapping his wings in indignation. "Cain is the eldest! He's got strength on his side."

Rolling your eyes at their antics, you stride over to the pair. "Alright, you two. Enough about Cain and Goldie. We all know Goldie could take him down without breaking a sweat. It would only take a look."

Matthew caws in protest, but Fēlix only grins at you, a twinkle in his eyes. "Oh, look at you, defending Goldie's honor," he teases.

Ignoring his jibe, you cross your arms over your chest and give them both a stern look. "What's next on the agenda? Gossiping about who's dating who?"

Fēlix leans back in his chair. "Speaking of dating, Kora," he begins, a teasing lilt to his voice, "I've been wondering about this dream lover of yours."

Matthew ruffles his feathers and turns to look at you with a quizzical tilt of his head. "Oh yes, your secret lover. We've all been dying to know more.”

You roll your eyes and try to wave them off, but it only seems to fuel their curiosity.

"Come on, Kora," Fēlix insists, grinning like a cat who got the cream. "Give us a hint. Is he a dream or a nightmare?"

Matthew hops closer to you on the table, his beady eyes sparkling with interest. "Yeah, does he have wings? Or maybe horns? Ooh! Or maybe he's one of those fancy types with a crown?"

You let out an exasperated sigh but can't help the smile that tugs at your lips. "You're both incorrigible," you chastise them lightly. "I'm not telling."

Fēlix pouts at you, feigning hurt. "Not even a little hint?"

"Especially not a hint," you retort playfully.

"You don't even know, do you," Fēlix finally huffs. "Always with the blindfold. Come on, give me some detail about him. How tall is he? What's his voice like? How big is his coc—"

"Respectfully," You loudly exclaim, cutting Fēlix off before he had your cheeks blazing with fire. "shut up."

"Aw, come on, Kora," he whines, giving you his best puppy-dog eyes. "Just a tiny hint?"

"No hints!" You declare firmly, crossing your arms over your chest. "And no more asking about it either."

Felix sighs dramatically, slumping back in his chair with a huff. Matthew, however, seems amused by the whole exchange. He gives a caw of laughter, ruffling his feathers.

"I told you she wouldn't tell," he teases Felix, hopping around on the table. Before Felix can respond, the library doors swing open and in walks what you can only describe as the palest goth you've ever seen with the most incredible eyes.

Lucienne straightens in her seat at the sight of him and clears her throat. "Lord Morpheus," she greets formally while you continue to gawk. Holy shit, this, is Morpheus!? Morpheus walks into the room, a picture of gothic elegance. He's taller than you expected, his lean form draped in dark coat that seem to drink in the light around him. But his eyes, his eyes are incredible. "Lord Morpheus," Lucienne repeats with more emphasis, eyeing you out of the corner of her spectacles.

You realize you've been caught staring and quickly avert your gaze, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. You'd heard tales about the Dream Lord, but seeing him in person is an entirely different experience. Matthew and Fēlix are silent for once, their playful banter dying on their lips as they too turn to acknowledge the ruler of this realm.

"Lucienne," Morpheus responds with a slight nod of his head. His voice is deep and velvety smooth, resonating through the library with an uncanny echo. It's as if he carries the whispers of countless dreams and nightmares within him. It's almost familiar to you, but you are fairly sure you would remember meeting a being like him. Even his voice matches his regalness, dripping with a poshness that you can only contribute to him being an Endless. Morpheus nods in response and turns his gaze towards you. His eyes hold an unreadable expression as he takes in your presence. "And who is this?"

You clear your throat and Lucienne seems to pick up on something because she suddenly stands from her seat and gestures towards you. "Kora," she says, catching your attention. "I don't believe you've formally met Lord Morpheus."

You blink at her words before turning to look at Morpheus again. Despite all the times you've seen shadows him around the palace, you've never really spoken to him or been formally introduced. Or really gotten a look at him. And yet... something about him feels familiar. His voice is too deep, too formal, for you to have met him before, surely.

"Lord Morpheus," Lucienne continues, gesturing towards you with an open palm. "This is Kora. She's been a great help around the palace and she's... well, she's become quite a fixture here in the Dreaming and a good friend to Matthew."

His gaze shifts to you again and he gives a slight nod of his head. "Kora," he says, his voice low and rich. "A pleasure to meet you." Oh you definitely would have remembered him with the way he speaks your name. Yet the pesky thought of familiarity still lingers.

You swallow nervously and give a small curtsy, suddenly feeling out of your depth. "The pleasure is all mine, Lord Morpheus," you reply, wracking your brain for some sort of idea on what you were supposed to do in the presence of an Endless. Your mind came up with nothing.

A slow smile curves Morpheus' lips. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything important," he says, his voice deep and resonating throughout the library. "What were you discussing?"

Matthew's beady eyes shift from you to Morpheus and back again, his raven head tilting in curiosity. Felix merely grins, the corners of his mouth twitching with barely concealed amusement. The raven's gaze is heavy on you, but you refuse to meet it.

"Oh, nothing much," you reply nonchalantly, trying to sound casual. "Just... discussing the possibility of a ball."

"A ball?" Matthew scoffs, flapping nearer and shaking out his feathers. "We were discussing your romantic escapades, girl!" You air out a screech of annoyance in the back of your throat and slapped a hand to your face. "Don't get sassy with me, you’re the one running around having sexcapades with one of the boss’ creations."

Matthew's laughter rings through the library, a series of sharp, raucous caws that echo off the high ceilings. He flutters his wings, sending a few loose feathers spiraling down to the floor.

"Oh, Kora!" he cackles, his beady eyes gleaming with mischief. "Your secret's out now!"

Morpheus, however, remains silent. A hint of amusement flickers in his incredible eyes, but he doesn't say a word. Instead, he watches you with an intensity that makes you squirm in place. His gaze lingers on you for a moment longer before he speaks. "It seems you've been enjoying your time in the Dreaming," he remarks, his voice painfully smooth. "I am… pleased, to hear that."

Oh you could crawl in a hole and die hearing him tell you that!

You feel a flush creep up your neck and settle on your cheeks at his words. Matthew squawks again, hopping around on the table with glee. "Oh, she's been enjoying it alright!" he teases, earning a glare from you.

"If the rotisserie speaks again, I am not helping him preen his feathers any further!" You hiss at the cackling bird.

Matthew pauses mid-caw and cocks his head at you. "Hey!" he protests. "You promised not to call me that anymore!"

"I did no—" you try to exclaim, but a wave of weariness overwhelms you, causing your sight to blur and the library, along with everyone in it, to lose focus. You blink, only to discover you're in your bed, with the gentle glow of dawn illuminating your room. "Oh, give me a break," you groan, pressing your palms to your eyes. "I can't believe I just had that conversation in front of Dream of the Endless."

Back in the Dreaming, Matthew watches as you disappear, his beady eyes filled with a strange sadness. He flutters back down to the table, his black feathers ruffling up around him like a cloak.

"It gets quiet when she's gone," he mutters to himself. He picks at his feathers with his beak, straightening them out with meticulous care.

Fēlix glances over at Matthew from where he's seated at the table. He gives a slow nod of agreement. "It does," he says softly. "The palace isn't quite the same without her."

Lucienne adjusts her glasses and returns to her book without comment, but there's a tightness around her eyes that wasn't there before. Even Morpheus seems affected by your departure. His incredible eyes hold a far-off look as he gazes at the spot where you disappeared from.

For a long moment, silence fills the library — a silence that's not quite comfortable. It's a silence filled with thoughts unspoken and words unsaid. A silence that speaks volumes about how much they all miss you when you're gone.

Finally, Matthew breaks it with a soft sigh. "I miss her when she's not here," he admits quietly. The others don't respond right away, but there's no need for words. In their own ways, they all miss you too.

Date Published: 9/30/24

Last Edit: 9/30/24

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[antimatterz]

interesting turn of events

dan heng x gn!reader

typical "there's only one bed" trope but i've never written one before and wanted to do it once so here we are. no warnings.

content under the cut | masterlist

something about the dark, glum streets of boulder city left you with a smothered feeling. it was as if a weight lay upon your shoulders, slowing you down with its heaviness. it was exhausting, and the more time you spent outside, the more tired you became. maybe that was why all the citizens seemed so dull and gloomy. this town was completely void of a spark, nothing that brightened the misery. just being here made the sense of depression sneak up on you, and the continuous stress of the underworld netizens was contagious. 

along with your travel companion, you made your way through the town that was shrouded in darkness perpetually, looking for a place to stay and get some much-needed rest. 

     "you feel it too, huh?" dan heng asked, breaking the silence that had lingered between you for a while. 

     "feel what?" you asked, not immediately grasping what the male was getting at. 

     "the absence of hope," he explained, gazing into the dark distance afore you. "there's no joy here, no liveliness, nothing that brings a reason to live to these people. it's... depressing." 

     "yeah, it is," you agreed, nodding as you listened to his words. "i've spent a few days here and it's already weighing upon me. imagine having to spend your entire life here in the underworld." 

     "it's never been easy here, but ever since they sealed it off, the life has been sucked out of this place," dan heng mused, solemn eyes still looking ahead of him. "i can't wait to resolve this all and get back to the surface." 

     "i'm afraid it won't be fixed overnight," you sighed. just like dan heng, you weren't looking forward to staying here much longer. 

of course you had march with you, who brought quite some liveliness to the sullen atmosphere, but even the cheerful girl was affected by the gloominess of this place. and then there was dan heng, ever the pessimist – or realist, as he prefered to call it. everyone dealt with the situation here in their own way, and so did you. you made sure to keep a close eye on all your companions, and did what you could to console those who appeared to be heavily affected by the misery that had intricately weaved itself into the underground. 

     "i'm starting to fear that we have no other option than to spend the night in the goethe grand hotel again," dan heng commented as you passed through yet another alley. 

     "aww, you're acting as if it was that bad," you lightly mocked him. "okay, the mattress wasn't soft at all and it smelled really suspicious but at least we had a place to sleep." 

the male muttered something under his breath that sounded a lot like an additional list of complaints he had regarding the goethe grand hotel, but he still led you through the dark streets towards the mentioned hotel. 

once inside, you were greeted by gertie, the owner of the old hotel. as cold and run-down as the building might've seemed, the woman greeted you warmly. 

     "hello ma'am, do you have two single rooms available for us?" dan heng asked politely. 

     "please, just call me gertie," the woman behind the desk waved dismissively. "i'll check right away, give me a moment." she went through a log on the desk in front of her, flipping through some pages before she found what she was looking for. "hm, i'm sorry. i only have one room available tonight. would that be a problem?" 

you and dan heng exchanged a look, and his face was as unreadable as ever. you had no idea what he thought about the situation that unfolded, and you had no idea what to say. a silence followed, in which gertie's face grew from questioning to mildly confused.

it was dan heng who first cleared his throat, shaking his head.

     "it's no problem," he answered, and you just nodded along.

     "it isn't," you agreed.

but really, wasn't it? on the inside you were freaking out mildly. you barely just met dan heng, and though you got along just fine, you wouldn't say you were on sharing-a-room terms. but it was either that or finding an even lousier place to stay, which held no appeal to you at all. 

     "excellent, here are your keys to room six," gertie announced, handing the keys to the male next to you. "enjoy your stay, and don't forget to leave a review." 

you instantly thought back to the reviews you already left behind, twice. your reviews had been nothing but positive, even though the hotel wasn't all that great. gertie was a kind woman, and you simply couldn't find it in you to leave a review that voiced your true feelings about the facility. but to leave the same review yet another time? hm. maybe you'd just ignore the parchment in the dresser. 

you followed your travel companion up the creaky wooden stairs that brought you to the first floor, and the male swiftly opened the door to hotel room six. it was dark and plain and it screamed poverty, much like the rooms you previously stayed in. there was, however, something that caught your eye – and judging from the way dan heng's eyes had widened, he noticed too. there was one bed, a single-person bed, and nothing close to a couch or sofa or anything else to sleep on. you felt your heartbeat pick up as realization hit you.

     "uhm," you brought out. "dan heng, there's only one bed." 

     "so i noticed," the male replied dryly. 

     "what do we do now?" you asked. 

     "simple. you take the bed, i'll sleep on the floor," dan heng shrugged. it wasn't even a suggestion; it was a solution already set in stone – for dan heng, at least. you weren't quite having it.

     "i don't think sleeping on the floor is a good idea," you hesitantly brought up. "we're supposed to meet with serval tomorrow and who knows what will happen after that? we need all the rest we can get, and sleeping on the moldy floor won't result in proper rest." 

     "so what do you suggest, y/n?" dan heng questioned, arching a brow. 

     "i-i was thinking, why don't we just... share the bed?" you reluctantly spoke up, eyes trained on the wooden bed as you refused to look at him. "that way, no one has to sleep on the floor." 

     "a single-person bed isn't made for two people to sleep in," dan heng stated matter-of-factly. "but i see your point, i don't think sleeping on the floor would do us any good." 

and with that, it was pretty much decided. you and dan heng – the mysterious guy you secretly admired from the very moment you opened your eyes and found him about to perform cpr on you – were about to sleep in the same bed. to be fair, you were struggling to keep your cool, but you didn't want to make a fool out of yourself in front of your travel companion. so you turned around, telling dan heng that you were going to change into your sleeping attire and heading into the bathroom. once there, you breathed out. it's no big deal, you kept telling yourself.

really, it wasn't.

as you deemed yourself ready, you exited the bathroom and the male went in after you. hesitantly, you made your way over to the bed and crawled under the covers. now it didn't matter what dan heng would do; you had secured your spot on the bed. maybe he would have a change of heart and decide to sleep on the floor regardless – no, that was unfair to think. it was you who came with this suggestion in the first place.

you lay in a manner that made your back face the bathroom door, nervously awaiting it to creak open. eventually, it did, and dan heng came out. you shut your eyes tightly, and your heart did multiple somersaults when you felt the mattress dip besides you as the male sat down. you heard the covers rustle as he shifted, and you shuffled as close to the edge as you could. it was uncomfortable, but imagine accidentally touching dan heng? no, you would spontaneously combust out of sheer shame and you were positive he wouldn't necessarily appreaciate it, either.

it wasn't comfortable, as you lay stiffly, afraid to move – or do so much as breathe in and out steadily. you were hyperaware of the body that lay next to you. because the bed was so small, he was close to you, regardless of how much you tried to keep your distance. your back was facing him, but you inhaled his scent nevertheless, and boy, he smelled good. fresh and comforting, like the fleeting touch of jasmin flowers. it made you want to crawl closer to him, to breathe in deeply and fall asleep against him, basking in comfort. but aeons, you would never have the guts to do so. dan heng would surely be freaked out.

or would he?

"y/n?" he muttered after a long silence.

a little surprised, you halfheartedly turned around. it had been quiet for a long time, and you were certain he would've been asleep by now. well, apparently he wasn't. you caught his gaze, illuminated by the dying oil lamp on the nightstand.

"good, you're awake," dan heng stated.

"yeah," you said, very much confirming the obvious. "what's it?"

"you know..." the male began, trailing off after barely speaking two words. he seemed to think, his eyes darting away from you momentarily. he didn't look like he would speak up anytime soon, but you didn't urge him on. dan heng was the quiet type, usually not too happy when he was forced to talk. so you let him, waiting patiently.

you followed his gaze, only to find that he was looking at nothing in particular. though the oil lamp casted a warm hue upon the furniture and walls, it was hard to make out details and dan heng was pretty much staring into a void of nothingness. that was really out of character for him; even though he was silent often, his gaze was always focused and aware. now you fully turned around to face him properly, temporarily forgetting about your previous worries.

"were it anyone else, i would've objected," he spoke up after recollecting himself. "as in, i would've slept on the floor."

"what?" you questioned dumbly, not getting it.

"i like you," dan heng bluntly said. "that's why i agreed on spending a night in the same bed as you. i thought about it and realized, were it march who asked me to, i would've refused blatantly. i don't mean any offense but –"

"hold up," you said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "you what?"

"i said what i said, y/n. i like you," the male repeated, finally looking straight at you. "i simply found you attractive from the start, but as we are spending time together here in belobog, i grew attracted to how you are as a person just as much. i'm sorry if this catches you off-guard, but i've been thinking it over and felt like i had to say it."

you stared at him, utterly dumbfounded. dan heng liked you? now that was something you never dared to hope for. surely, with you it also started with an infatuation, but spending time with dan heng made you realize that you also liked him. and now he was telling you he liked you back?

"you didn't inhale too many geomarrow particles, did you?" you hesitantly joked, not believing what was happening.

"i'm dead serious, y/n." dan heng shook his head. "you know me, i barely joke around, let alone in a situation like this." his hand reached out to find your cheek gently, and he looked at you solemnly. "now, i am slowly losing my facade if you don't say something back."

you instantly cracked a smile, placing your hand on top of his.

"i would've never suggested sharing a bed if it wasn't you," you told him. "i like you too. it started when i opened my eyes and found a hot guy bent over me, about to give me cpr, but as time passed –"

"you think i'm hot?" dan heng asked, and for the very first time, you caught a hint of amusement lingering on the edge of his voice.

"ah, forget i said anything," you uttered, instantly turning around so your back was facing him once more. aeons, that was stupid!

you heard dan heng chuckle, and two arms snaked around your waist from behind. he pulled you closer to him, gently hugging you against his chest.

"don't lay so close to the edge of the mattress, you might fall off."

you only nodded, inhaling his scent as you realize your previous wish had suddenly come true. who would've thought? was this real? were you dreaming? or were you the one high on geomarrow particles? you had no idea, but you decided not to care. smiling softly, you nuzzled closer to the male. you'd see tomorrow; for now you were going to enjoy this.

[cnnmairoll]

Sunday Mornings and Cookies

Pairing : Sampo Koski x Reader Genre : Fluff, Domestic Summary : On a lazy Sunday filled with flour-dusted laughter and affectionate banter, you and Sampo create a batch of imperfectly perfect cookies, turning a simple baking session into a cherished memory of sweet delights and tender love. a/n : this fic is part of The Domestic Things They Do With You so feel free to check out what other character will be there!

The morning sun painted a canvas of warmth across your room, coaxing you from the embrace of sleep. You stirred beneath the soft sheets, your senses slowly coming to life as you stretched languidly. As your eyelids fluttered open, your gaze fell upon the sight that never failed to make your heart skip a beat.

Sampo Koski, with his emerald eyes that held the secrets of a thousand tales, and his dark blue hair adorned with white stripes that seemed to capture the essence of a starlit night, was lying beside you. His lips curled into a soft smile as he sensed your awakening.

"Good morning, my treasure," he purred, his voice like honey with a hint of playfulness. "Did you dream about me all night?"

You chuckled and nuzzled your nose against his chest. "Maybe I did. Maybe you were charming your way into my dreams again."

Sampo chuckled, his fingers now dancing up and down your spine. "Well, I can't help it if I'm unforgettable, can I?"

The two of you shared a quiet laugh before settling into a comfortable silence. The apartment felt warm and inviting, a cocoon where the outside world couldn't reach you. The soft hum of a distant city mingled with the sound of your steady breathing. 

"You know, lazy Sundays like these are precious. No clients, no schemes, just you and me."

You hummed in agreement, your eyes fluttering closed "I could get used to this. Just being here with you."

His lips brushed against your forehead in a sweet, lingering kiss. "I hope you do get used to it, because I plan on having many more lazy Sundays with you."

The two of you shifted, and suddenly you were draped across Sampo's chest, his arms securely around you. His fingers traced invisible patterns on your back, sending shivers down your spine.

"You know, I was thinking," he began, his tone contemplative. "Maybe we could try our hand at baking today. I've heard rumors that I'm quite the pastry chef."

You lifted your head and looked at him skeptically. "Rumors? From who? Your overinflated ego?"

Sampo gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. "My ego is hurt! My dear, sweet companion betrays me!"

You laughed, shaking your head. "Alright, alright. We can bake something. But just remember, I have my doubts."

Sampo's grin widened, and he pressed a quick kiss to your lips. "Doubt all you want, my love. You'll see the masterpiece that is my baking skills soon enough."

—----

Sampo's mischievous grin never left his face as he reached for the flour, his fingers dancing playfully through the white powder. "Are you ready to witness the culinary masterpiece that is about to unfold?"

You rolled your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips. "I can't wait to see this masterpiece of yours, Mr. Pastry Chef."

With an exaggerated flourish, Sampo grabbed a mixing bowl and started combining the ingredients. "First, a cup of sugar, for sweetness as radiant as your smile."

You chuckled as he winked at you, his words a charming serenade that wrapped around your heart. "And next, a dash of salt, because life needs a little flavor."

As he continued to recite his poetic instructions, you couldn't help but be captivated by his playful spirit. The room seemed to brighten as he moved around with an easy grace, his fingers measuring and mixing with practiced confidence.

"Now, my love," he announced with a flourish, "we add the vanilla extract, for that touch of sophistication that only you can bring."

"You're quite the wordsmith, aren't you?" You snickered

Sampo winked again, his emerald eyes sparkling. "Only when it comes to describing my muse."

As the batter came together, you took over the mixing duties, your hands moving with gentle precision. Sampo leaned against the counter, his gaze never leaving you as he admired your skills.

"You know," he mused, "there's a certain elegance in the way you handle things. It's as if every movement you make is a dance."

You laughed softly, feeling your cheeks grow warmer. "You really know how to turn a simple baking session into a romantic affair."

Sampo strolled over, his arms wrapping around you from behind as he rested his chin on your shoulder. "Why settle for anything less when I have the most enchanting partner by my side?"

With his presence surrounding you, you felt a sense of warmth and belonging that was unmatched. You leaned into his embrace, feeling his heartbeat against your back.

"Alright, Chef Sampo," you teased, "what's the next step in this culinary journey?"

He chuckled and reached for the chocolate chips, his fingers dancing through the mound of goodness. "Ah, the pièce de résistance! These chocolate chips, my dear, are like the moments we share – sweet, irresistible, and sprinkled throughout our lives."

You couldn't help but be charmed by his words, a mixture of humor and genuine affection that was uniquely Sampo. Together, you folded the chocolate chips into the batter, the mixture taking on a deliciously tempting appearance.

As you spooned the batter onto the baking sheet, Sampo grabbed another spoon and playfully swiped a dollop of batter, smearing it on your cheek. "A dash of playfulness, just to keep things interesting."

You gasped in mock surprise, pretending to be scandalized. "You're incorrigible!"

He grinned unapologetically, his fingers reaching up to wipe the batter off your cheek. "Guilty as charged, my love."

With the baking sheet ready, you placed it in the oven, the anticipation of the sweet treats to come filling the air. Sampo wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a gentle embrace.

15 minutes later, the cookie was done, Sampo carefully pulled out the tray from the oven and set it down on the counter. "See? I told you I had a hidden talent," Sampo declared triumphantly, holding up a misshapen heart-shaped cookie as if it were a prized possession.

You rolled your eyes, a fond smile tugging at your lips. "You're impossible."

He leaned in, capturing your lips in a tender kiss that spoke of lazy mornings and shared moments. "But I'm your impossible, aren't I?"

As the day stretched on, you found yourselves lounging on the couch, a soft blanket draped over your legs as a movie played on the television. Sampo's fingers idly drew patterns on your thigh, his eyes half-lidded as he absorbed the plot.

"Hey, sleepyhead," you teased, poking his side. "Are you actually paying attention to the movie?"

Sampo feigned innocence, blinking up at you with those emerald eyes. "Of course! It's a... uh... a story about... well, something riveting, I'm sure."

You laughed and shook your head, snuggling closer to him. "You're hopeless."

He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you against his side. "But I'm your hopeless."

And in that moment, surrounded by the comfort of your shared space and the warmth of your love, you realized that lazy Sundays with Sampo were your favorite days in the world. No grand adventures or elaborate schemes were necessary when you had each other.

As the movie played on, you let yourself drift into a contented slumber, secure in the knowledge that you were exactly where you belonged – in the arms of the silver-tongued merchant who had stolen your heart.

[actuallyastingray]

Rookie of the Year - Insomnia

"Just for tha' record, you're damn lucky Coach is a heavy sleepah"

Insomnia was an absolute curse. Dancing Rasta had long ago come to live with sleepless nights on the couch, usually accompanied by tea, chocolate, and late-night sports highlights. Predictably, said sleepless nights usually coincided with high stakes matches against the Super Leagues finest, y'know when being well rested was most important. How he had managed all these years surviving on four hours of sleep was still a mystery to Supa Strikas captain. Tonight however, it seems that he wasn't the only one languishing awake in the wee hours of the morning. At least he had chosen to do something calming with his night, like enjoying a cup of tea and reading about Riano's new skincare regimen.

The team's newest striker and rising star, however, was making no attempts to settle down for the night. The fact that they were both now at least a mile from the rental house in a rather rundown local football field made that clear enough. Shakes at least had made a passing effort to sneak out the front door, and probably would have gone unnoticed had no one else been awake. Whether or not he was aware that he had been stalked a full mile to the local park was no longer relevant. In fact, Rasta had been watching on the sidelines for a good ten minutes, watching goal after goal after goal, before finally speaking up. At least, he had been watching the shots. With no stadium lights or, at the very least streetlights, it was hard to tell if Shakes was actually scoring anything.

Another five or so shots later and Rasta was tempted to just walk up and snatch the bag of footballs away just to evoke a reaction. Fortunately, Shakes spared him the effort by finally voicing a reply.

"Don't really see the problem captain. Suns gonna be up in a couple hours anyway. Just a little early morning warmup before the big game, am I right, heh heh?"

A full decade of dealing with Supa Strikas on a day-to-day basis had taught Dancing Rasta some valuable life skills, such as when someone was trying and failing to use humor to disguise their emotions. Shakes, both fortunately and unfortunately, was by far the easiest to read, which was saying something given how short his time with the team had been thus far.

"Ya do realize that its winter right now Shakes? As in shorter daylight hours? Suns not comin' up for anotha' six hours at best. But that ain't the point right now. Something's troubling ya right now, isn't there?

"Troubled?" Shakes echoed with another wayward shot, "What implies that I'm troubled by anything right now? Can't a guy just head out for a little late night practice session?"

"Well let's start with da fact that it's pitch black out. Last I checked, ya need to at least see where ya shooting at ta score. Then we can get ta the fact that ya chose to sneak out without sayin' anythin' or leaving any notes." Rasta, seeing yet another ball go shooting off to the net, chose to step between the rookie and the remaining pile of balls. Befitting the darkness, and likely sleeplessness, Shakes was halfway back to the pile before he noticed his captain had changed positions. His tracksuit managed to hide most of his face, but the telltale slump in his shoulders and bowed head implied Shakes was running on adrenaline fumes. "I don't have ta be Coach to tell ya dis ain't healthy Shakes-mon. Ya need your sleep for da big game tomorrow, especially when we facin' Iron Tank of all teams. Ya know Uber will take any advantage he can against ya."

Even in the darkness, Rasta saw quite clearly when Shakes' shoulders tensed at Iron Tank's captain's name. 'Well, that's step one completed', he mused 'Now let's see where this goes from here.'

"Sleep huh? So why are you up then captain? Coach is way more likely to punish you if you aren't rested."

'Ah, deflection then. Alright Shakes, I can play that game if you want.'

"Coach ain't gonna punish me for having trouble sleeping, just the same he ain't gonna punish ya for having more nightmares about Uber."

Shakes went stiff as a board and Rasta couldn't help but mentally pat himself on the back for the successful detective work. But now was not the time for celebrating just yet. He took the opportunity to close the gap between them and slid an arm around the rookie's shoulder. Shakes tensed further before realizing Rasta had once again moved without him realizing.

"How bout we take this back to the rental. Ain't no reason to stay out here anymore."

Rasta was expecting some amount of protest, but Shakes made no attempt to resist being walked back down the street. The rookies hood hid his face, but Rasta was more than certain it wasn't due to Shakes starting at his feet. It was a little more than halfway home before either of them attempted talking again.

"So...Uber. I know he's got it out for ya Shakes-mon, but y'know you don't need to be afraid of him. I mean, after what we pulled on the Iron Tanker, you should know that we..."

"...Captain..?"

"...Ya"

"I...It's...It's not Uber."

"What do ya mean, Shakes?"

Shakes voice dropped as he tried once again to hide inside his hoodie.

"M'not having nightmare's about Uber. And it's not Iron Tank either"

"....Well don't be tellin' me dat nothings wrong, cause I know dat somethin' be very, very wrong right now"

What came out next wasn't entirely audible. Even with ears trained to hear Coach barking out plays from a football field away, Dancing Rasta still had to strain himself. Out of whatever Shakes was trying to convey, only one word made came through clearly.

"...What about Automatic?"

The tensed shoulders made it clear Dancing Rasta had struck a nerve again. His hesitation made it possible for Shakes to pull ahead at a brisker pace, shoulders squared and hands hidden inside his jacket pockets.

"...S'nothing captain, okay? M'just trying to be better"

"Bettah? Bettah at what? Shakes-mon, ya had an amazing season last year. Ya one of the best strikas on our team. Ya do so well at all our trainings. Ya already one of the best"

"So was Automatic"

Silence

"...What?"

"A-Automatic. He was one of the best. He was a Supa Strika way before I joined. That didn't stop you guys from throwing him out first chance you got. How am I supposed to survive here if I don't stay ahead of the curve, huh?"

More silence. Longer silence. Finally ended with a long-suffered sigh from Dancing Rasta.

"Shakes, listen ta me, ya don't know da full story about Auto or why you replaced him. Don't ya go makin' assumptions when ya don't know the full story."

Shakes stood with his head half turned, giving the impression that he was looking over his shoulder if not for the hood.

"I know you were both friends. You both join Supa Strikas at the same time. Except he got kicked off and you didn't say anything when I joined in his place."

"Dat's not even half da truth, Shakes.", Rasta rarely ever raised his voiced outside of the pitch. He hadn't meant to yell, and for a moment he was worried the neighbors would be storming out, screaming about rude awakenings. Fortunately, the neighbors seemed to be heavy sleepers. Unfortunately, his outburst put Shakes back in defense mode; shoulders hunched and back turned. He needed to right this wrong before Shakes walked away with more woes.

"'Sigh' Auto and I...I dunno if we coulda been called friends. We joined at the same time, and maybe things were good between us. Da truth is Shakes, we were never close da way you and Skarra were. Da media knew we joined at the same time and spun some crazy story about us being best of friends. We started ta hang out togetha since it meant betta media exposure. Truth is, we were never best friends even at our best. We were just...teammates who had each other's back, not much else."

A pause. Shakes had at least stopped walking away, so Rasta took the opportunity to close the gap between and continue.

"I dunno what went first, our friendship or Auto's skills. But once one went, the other wasn't far behind. I guess it shows how close we really were seeing as Auto never once spoke about it. Every time I tried ta get him to talk, he brushed it off and acted like I was the enemy. He never really tried ta make nice with da rest of the guys. Ya might have noticed no one has much to say about Auto, even after he's been gone."

With Shakes no longer walking, Rasta drew level with him and took the opportunity to spin him around, face to face.

"Shakes, Coach might have brought ya on to replace Auto, but we were never planning to kick him out. The real plan was to have Auto as our sub, but I guess his pride couldn't take da hit. We didn't kick him out, and no mattah what happens we won't do it to you either. You're already a bettah man than Auto, a bettah player, and bettah friend. Don't ever worry about being kicked off the team, cause I promise it won't ever happen."

Silence again. Had anyone been looking out their window in the dead of night it would have made for a strange sight; two figures, one much taller than the other, silhouetted in the darkness. A scene made quite touching when the short of the two moved forward and grabbed the taller around the waist in a desperate hug, which was affectionately returned.

It wasn't the first time Dancing Rasta had let a teammate cry on his shoulder. The last time had been when Aunt Hilda had ended up in the hospital after a car crash. Klaus had been inconsolable until it was announced his parental figure had no serious injuries outside of a few bruises. Helping a teammate break free of his nightmares was much more touching.

Shakes was trying, and failing, to muffle his sobs all while trying, and also failing, to blubber what sounded like a mixture of thanks and apologies. Rasta let him continue for a few minutes before Shakes finally stepped back, wiping his eyes. His hood had come off during the hug and Rasta could plainly see just how much of a wreck his newest teammate was. His eyes were baggy, showing just how badly he had been sleeping of late. It was hard to tell whether they were bloodshot from crying or lack of sleep. Perhaps it was time to remedy that with what little nighttime was left.

"C-c-captain, I..."

"I know we gotta lot to talk about, but how 'bout we get some shut eye before the game tomorrow. Don't worry, we'll have plenty of time after to talk about it."

So, with his arm safely fastened around his teammates shoulder, Dancing Rasta led the way back to the condo

Hours Later

"Soooooo, we just gonna ignore them or what?"

"Or what, I guess."

Like most human beings, none of the Supa Strikas were big morning people, even on the day of a League match, which meant it took a while before anyone noticed the elephant in the living room. Today, instead of the coffee maker, sports news recaps, or Twisting Tiger's legendary bed head, they had something else to gawk at.

Dancing Rasta and Shakes lay snuggled together on the living room's rather spacious couch, still clothed in a mixture of pajamas and workout gear. Dancing Rasta was leaned against the arm, one arm wrapped protectively around Shakes. Shakes himself was buried beneath the blankets wrapped around his shoulders, curling into his captain's side. It was a very touching sight, and not one the rest of the semi-sleep deprived Strikas were expecting to encounter so early in the morning.

Big Bo, taking in the scene, took a sip from his coffee mug, "Might as well leave them be. We still have a few hours before we gotta head out anyway."

Behind him, North Shaw slid into the room, "Ooooor" he drawled with a sneaky expression on his face, "We could be immature and draw on their faces."

Big Bo proceeded to roll his eyes halfway through another sip, "Yeah, sure, brilliant idea North. Not like they won't immediately suspect you or nothing."

"No no, let him continue. I like this idea." El Matador appeared next to him with an equally mischievous look. This was accompanied by a round of snickers from the rest of the team assembling behind them.

North took this opportunity to pull a sharpie out of his pajama pocket and start towards the sleeping duo. "See? El Mata-dude agrees with me, that's reason enough. Alright, anyone know how to write "Bogus" backwards?"

North was still turned around with the sharpie uncapped so he failed to see Dancing Rasta's eye crack open the slightest before slipping shut again. The sharpie was midway to his face when the team captain snatched North Shaw's arm, bringing the defender whirling around in fear.

"Try it, and I'll make sure Coach has ya doin' pushups until your arms fall off." His eyes snapped open in a gaze straight out of a horror film, leaning in to emphasize, "Dat. Is. A Promise."

"AHHHHHHHHHHHH!!"

Abandoning the sharpie, North Shaw tripped over himself as he scrambled back towards the door. The other Strikas had long since made themselves scarce, and a muffled thumping from the floor above indicated that most had retreated back to the relative safety of their rooms.

Any other day, Dancing Rasta might have considered pursuing for payback, but the slight movement under his arm reminded him of why he was confined to the couch in the first place. Fortunately for North Shaw, his screams had not disturbed Shakes. The young striker was still fast asleep under the blankets, completely unaware of the shenanigans that had just occurred. Dancing Rasta sank back into the couch, fully awake just like he had been for most of the night. Insomnia was a curse, one which plagued him nightly and reduced him to scavenging for coffee and chocolate at unholy hours. But this time at least, it had at least done some good.

Rasta sank back, let Shakes curl closer, and closed his eyes. It would be another few hours before they had to actually get up for the match. Another few hours of pretending he was getting some shut eye, or at least another few hours of thwarting whoever decided to mess with him.

[roxyteal]

This started as a funny silly musings shitpost, then stopped. Oops

---

Gonzalo does his best to remember the cultural norms of every country he travels to. But sometimes, he forgets or his instincts kick in.

After a only few weeks of knowing Bob, he accidentally greets him with one of his patented bearhugs, kissing both his cheeks with a laugh like all is well. Bob is frozen in place.

Then Teresa comes barrelling out of the house, and punches Gonzalo so hard he is sent spinning vertically until faceplanting into the pavement.

"Dear, you can't punch someone just because they… Well, did that." Bob manages, once he composes himself.

"They learn faster that way." Is her only response, dark green eyes coldly observing her target.

"But he's my client, he's probably going to cancel on me now-" Bob cuts off when Gonzalo finally reacts. Instead of outrage, as would've been expected, he's. Laughing. Like someone just told the best joke in the world.

"By God! That was amazing! I think she fractured something! How did she do that?!" He's also making a ton of noise.

"Mixed martial arts. Started in first year of secondary school."

Meanwhile, from inside, Billy tearfully dials the Shy household's number, voice and body shaking as he blubbers to John, "Mother attacked the Spanish man!!!" He meant to say "Spaniard", but he can be forgiven.

Luckily, for a while, things settled down.

---

Months into building the submarine, Bob is able to tell Gonzalo about how terrible the occupation of his country is.

He takes the well-made builder gingerly by the hands and says, sounding genuine, "You should run away with me to Spain!"

And gets punched clear out into the tide, Teresa's brunette hair flowing behind her.

"Dear, he wasn't serious!" Bob pauses, unsure. "I don't think… Or perhaps he meant all of us…" Trying to be charitable.

He's laughing again. That amused, almost prideful laugh of his.

"Mother, why do you hate Mr. Gonzalo?!" Billy tries not to cry, while John sits there, jaw slack at what they just witnessed. Moments ago, the two children had been attempting to sculpt something in the sand.

"Little Bilis," She coolly says, "He thinks he can say whatever he pleases. He isn't above consequences."

"At least visit sometime! Like a vacation! ¡Trae a la familia! It'll be fun!" Gonzalo's words are difficult to parse through his mirth, but it clarified enough.

"See? He's only trying to be kind…" Teresa sighs at her husband.

"You won't really move away to Spain, will you?" John is unnerved by the idea.

"And lose you? Never!" Billy immediately says, then looks at his parents again, for assurance. "Right…?"

Bob tries to answer, but Teresa beats him to it. Her voice is much softer now, as she approaches them and pats their heads with tenderness. "It is unthinkable. Do not fret."

---

"So!" Gonzalo brings up suddenly, while he and Bob are having drinks, alone. "Mrs. Lė…"

"Oh, no, not 'Mrs. Lė'. She prefers 'Mrs. Teresa'."

"Why is that? I don't know what else to call her! She never told me her maiden name…"

"We don't speak of them."

"What?!" It sounds incredulous to Gonzalo. "How come?!"

"It's not my story to tell," Bob is muffled by his shot glass, "All I will say on the matter is this: She didn't add mine to hers - as is tradition - because her family would find out. Then, they'd beg for everything I earn. Not quite like leeches, but she opposed regardless." He meets eyes with him, then adds, as if to bury the topic, "Į sveikatą. You're up next."

He downs it. Afterwards, the glass is put down.

Gonzalo is surprisingly quiet, frowning as the gears turn in his mind. However, he does follow Bob's lead, but doesn't return the phrase. "What about your familia?"

Bob had said too much. He wasn't going to be let off the hook that easily. He sighs. "Never would've approved of anything I did - our marriage, our livelihoods, our child. Especially since he has… Special needs." He grimaces, hating the way it sounds.

"Frankly, we do too, but only up here," He continues, pointing to his cranium briefly. "Young Billy's case is more obvious, more physical. They would've hated him. Why, I'm convinced that when I was his age, they despised me too. 'Difficult' was their favorite complaint."

This time, Gonzalo has to process the information for a short while. He cannot fathom coming from a homelife so wretched and unloving. What's even the point of having kids and parenting them if they're going to be so heartless about it? But for once, he doesn't say these things aloud. Despite the alcohol he's consumed in the past two hours, he calculates his next response more sensitively.

"Lo lamento," A pause. "I'm sorry, Robertas. I had no idea."

"Don't pity us."

"No!" A small glare forms on his face at the thought. "It's not pity! It takes great strength to blaze your own path! Much will! Lots of patience! To endure!" He jumps from his seat, grabbing Bob's shoulders. "You were all built from nothing, with no one! And here you stand, resilient and defiant against the hand you were dealt! This is not pity, this is empathy! Do you hear me?"

Bob doesn't know how to reply. Gonzalo's grip hurts, but it doesn't deter him or make him want to flee. Accompanied by his words, the stinging instead makes him feel… Alive.

Still, all he can think to do is nod. Gonzalo notices what he's doing, and releases, sitting back down. "Sorry, again. But my point is: All of you are very courageous. I hope that one day, you won't need to be anymore."

As the moment passes, the remnants of the pain sets in, and Bob is unable to suppress the urge to nurse one of his slightly harmed shoulders. "Then, in that case, thank you."

Meanwhile, he is pouring another round of shots. Mirroring what Bob did earlier, he proclaims, "Don't mention it! Now, as you say… Į sveikatą!" His pronunciation is off, but he's only heard it a few times, so it's a decent try.

But Bob appreciates that earnest attempt. He manages a grin, and follows suit. He's starting to finally understand Gonzalo, he thinks.

[gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot]

*Offers a small, shiny coin*

May I request,, small interaction with our silly ocs

(If you have time ofc ofc :3)

I just can't write small, my love <3 you deserve better (and oh my god isn't that big headed thingy cute)

Starring:

Sgt. Christine 'Riot' Vega, Task Force 141

Phayvanh 'Nak' Sotsvahn, Chimera @vasyandii

Additional appearance of Lt. Olga 'Zhar' Samoilova @nrdmssgs

Set after Lullaby and before the second chapter of Darker Matters

At first, when Nak had been told by Nikolai that he had a mission for her of the utmost importance, she had been sceptical. Then excited. And then sceptical again.

For some reason, it was a mission for three people.

For some reason, one of those people was Chimera's second in command.

For another, unknown, baffling reason, the third person wasn't another Chimera operative, but none other than Sergeant Christine Vega, Riot, from the Task Force 141.

Nikolai had flown the three of them to some unknown southern coast to hunt down a target in a luxury resort.

That had been easy enough.

*

''Riot, Nak, are you in position?'' Zhar's calm voice came through their comms as they waited in the darkness of an underground parking lot.

''In position'' Nak answered her comm, listening to Riot mumble her own answer. She could see her forced companion with the corner of her eye, looking ahead with her arms crossed and her fingers tapping rythmically to some melody that wasn't there.

Riot had been perfectly nice when introduced to the rest of Chimera by an awfully proud Nikolai and an equally smiley Zhar, which had made Krueger jealous right away, of course.

Both women were standing in a precise spot that during the reconaissance that Riot had made earlier proved to be the only blind spot in the whole complex.

It wasn't ideal. It was risky.

But the target had parked his car right there. Right where the ceiling lamps had been suspiciously broken the previous day.

Riot muttered something under her breath that Phayvanh didn't quite catch, so she looked in her direction, in silence, until the other woman seemed to notice.

''Sorry. I was commenting what a fucking idiot to park here, in the darkest corner''

''Works for us, though'' Nak shrugged, unbothered, checking for the fifth time that her dual push blades were secured in her fists. Given the situation of the parking lot, and the possibility of being heard, the options were using silencers or knives.

Both Nak and Riot had grinned at the mention of the knives, and without another word, had agreed to it.

''For you, mostly. I'm here as an observer'' The blonde woman chuckled, shaking her head with pretended sadness, but Nak was almost sure there was a smile underneath that mask. ''This is a Chimera's contract, the target is yours. I can't intervene unless you're in immediate danger''

Phay simply nodded, checking her blades for the sixth time, methodical. The target was some asshole involved in human trafficking that had tried to use the wrong person's daughter. Nikolai had been too happy to take the contract, and even Zhar had jumped on the opportunity.

That didn't explain Riot's presence though.

She was still musing about it when their comms clicked again.

''Objective is going down on the elevator. ETA three minutes'' Zhar's voice was still calm, collected. Nak doubted there was anything that could move that woman, and she admired that a lot. ''Make sure to terminate him on the spot and leave him there. Move to exfil point through the way you entered''

''Roger'' Both women answered, their eyes fixed on the path open between them, while they kept to the shadows.

"Objective stopped on the ground floor. Two men joined him" Zhar informed through the comm, sounding annoyed. "They look like private security but not with the resort"

"Understood" Nak answered, mentally trying to picture how to proceed, and looked at Riot. Her companion had her knives in her hands, two long bowie blades with dark hilt.

The finger tapping was completely gone.

"You take care of the target. I'll take care of the others"

"They are two" Nak smiled at her, and Riot smiled back.

"More fun"

The seconds seemed longer as they waited, their hands firmly gripping their knives. The only sound in Nak's ears was her own heartbeat.

The sound of the elevator's doors opening was almost eerie in the darkness. Steps started to approach them, accompanied by the chatter of a masculine voice speaking in a language neither of them spoke.

Nak had memorized his face though. So when the target, still babbling his nonsense, walked right past her, she simply grabbed him from behind and swiftly dug one of her blades in his throat.

Riot acted just when she saw Nak initiating her movement, sliding on the floor thanks to her kneepads to dig her bowies on the thighs of both bodyguards.

One of the men yelped and fell to the ground, gripping his thigh, the other tried to draw his gun only to find the sharp edge of one of the bowies sinking in his throat, making him emit a gurgling sound before dropping to the floor.

The other bodyguard was still trying to reach his holster when Riot's knife sank deep in his chest, over one of his clavicles, right as Nak's blade did the same on his side.

Less than a minute.

"Report"

"Done" Nak allowed the dead target to drop on top of one of his bodyguards, and started to head for the exit route. Riot followed her in silence, both women moving in the shadows, sheltered by the lack of working lamps towards their point of entry and escape.

"Have you ever gone surfing?"

Nak almost stopped in her tracks when she heard Riot's voice behind her. While she waited for her answer, the other woman had started to hum a melody.

"Can't... say I have, why?"

"Oh, nothing" Riot's cheerful voice, for some reason, made her nervous and confused. "There's still a mission to do before we go back"

*

Now Nak was even more confused, standing on a beach, wearing a borrowed swimsuit because she didn't own one, staring at the sea and watching with astonishment while Riot explained her how to stand on a surf board.

''Is this... part of the mission?'' Phayvanh asked quietly, still puzzled. Looking back briefly, she could see Olga working on her laptop, comfortably sheltered under a tent to avoid the direct sunrays.

''What?'' Christine blinked, losing track of what she was saying, but suddenly she started nodding. A lot. ''Of course, of course, it's all part of the mission''

Phay was still hesitant, but deep inside, she felt excitement as the other woman continued explaining and demonstrating how to use the surf board.

She was still feeling great when they went into the water, and after a long, long time of trying to get on the board, falling, trying to get on again, succeeding, trying to ride a wave, and mostly drowning, she had to admit it.

She was having a great time. So great that it wasn't until after a while that she realized that Christine was sitting on the sand next to her own board, just smiling at her.

''Tired already?'' Phay asked, dragging her board and leaving it next to the other woman's before sitting down next to her.

''Hardly. But I promised Olga that I would only be in the water for a little bit'' Christine shrugged, but seeing Phay's confused face, she laughed and pointed at her left side. ''Got shot a couple of weeks ago, I'm supposed to be on leave, resting"

''Then why are you here?''

''My team is deployed for a short op and I couldn't go'' Christine laughed, brushing back her wet hair. "Captain Price figured I'd be bored out of my mind and Nikolai offered me something to do"

"To be my babysitter?" *Phay grinned, and when Christine stood up and offered her hand, took it to rise to her feet.

"To make you have fun. That was half of my mission" Christine grabbed her surfboard and guided Phay back to where they had left their things, close to the tent where Olga, always the workaholic, was still typing away on her laptop.

"Half of your... what's the other half?" Phay left her board next to Christine's, looking at her curiously. "Back at the resort you said we still had a mission to fulfill"

"That we do. I was your backup then, now you're mine" Christine started rummaging in her bags, and giggled mischievously when she found what she was looking for. "Nikolai asked me to make sure Olga doesn't spend her whole time here working. Because I love her, I've allowed her to work for a couple of hours"

"How do you pretend to... oh" Phay covered her mouth with her hands to hide a smile.

What Christine was holding were two nerf water guns. And her grin was downright naughty.

"Ready?"

Phay grinned back and grabbed the offered water gun

"Always"

[thefrenchydude]

Murderous Lust - Chapter 2

As the evening progressed, the atmosphere in the grand manor shifted subtly. The celebration continued, but Reader's unease grew stronger. He couldn't shake off the feeling that the demons, Liu'er mihou and Sun wukong, were watching him intently, their gazes like daggers cutting through the air. He tried to brush off the sensation, attributing it to his own paranoia, but the tension in his muscles persisted.

Reader discreetly excused himself from the party for a moment, needing to catch his breath and clear his mind. He slipped out onto a lavish balcony adorned with hanging vines and soft, ambient lighting. The festivities sounds were no more than a gentle murmur.

The cool night breeze provided a temporary reprieve from the suffocating ballroom. He leaned against the marble railing, his heart racing, trying to shake off the foreboding sense that had settled over him.

"You seem troubled," a voice spoke from the shadows, sending a shiver down Reader's spine. He turned to find Liu'er mihou standing there, his dark purple eyes fixated on Reader. Despite the elegance of his attire, the simian's aura exuded a raw, primal power that made Reader's breath catch.

“Your highness”, gasped Reader, bowing himself forward.

“You don’t need to be formal with me. Now, tell me, what’s got you to leave the festivity.”

He found himself intimidated by the commanding presence before him. When they talked last time, he wasn’t impressed by the dark simian king. His though only burning with anger against Da Xia and with concern for the poor man that got hurt. But now that the adrenaline rush had worn off and that it was just the two of them, he couldn’t help but to feel afraid of him. He was such an imposing demon, he was king for a reason after all.

Reader's voice quivered slightly as he replied : "It's just... the grandeur of the celebration, I suppose. It can be overwhelming at times. And I haven't got used to this kind of life yet."

Liu'er mihou stepped closer, his gaze unwavering. "New experiences often carry both excitement and uncertainty. But there is more to your unease, isn't there?"

Reader's brow furrowed in confusion, unsure how Liu'er mihou could sense his deeper turmoil. 

"I... I'm not sure what you mean.”

Liu'er mihou's gaze softened, and he leaned against the railing beside Reader. "It's not uncommon for those who have faced hardships to carry their burdens long after the storms have passed. Your eyes hold a story, Reader. A tale of strength, resilience, and a determination to rise above."

Reader's heart skipped a beat, his unease giving way to a pang of vulnerability. How could this demon, a creature of legend, perceive his inner struggles so keenly?

"You're perceptive," Reader admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. After a short time in his own reflection, Reader turned to face the simian and focused in order to plunge into his eyes. He never has been good at that, but he wanted to try, maybe this time he could see something, a part of the king’s story, a glimpse of his thoughts.

"That's curious," Reader mused, his voice tinged with a hint of self-reflection, "no matter how hard I try, I can't seem to perceive any stories through your eyes. I suppose I'm less attuned to perceiving that kind of things than you are. Or, perhaps it's due to your long life, your story is too long to be seen through your eyes ."

“But your story is quite as long as mine.” Smiled Liu'er.

Reader laughed.

“I doubt that, it feels like I’ve just been born. Even if to get in here it took me so much time, it’s as if I’m just a child discovering the world once again. Happily Lex is here to lead the way. I would be lost without him. I wouldn’t even be here without him.”

A loud noise startled Reader and he saw that Liu'er's face was no longer relaxed and jovial, but serious and tense. The fur on his neck was standing up.

As soon as he saw Reader looking in his direction, he tried to calm down as best he could.

"Are you well, Your Highness?" asked Reader.

He smiled, an obviously fake one, and replied that he simply felt tired. With that, he wished Reader a good night and left.

Reader remained there, lost in thought, gazing up at to the sky, which was disappearing behind rain clouds.

Then his eyes slid to the balustrade, where hands were now engraved. Something was wrong. Why had he left the party to talk to a simple man like Reader? To apologize for his daughter's behavior? No, he hadn't made any excuses. Maybe… he just wanted to talk. No, there was more. Plus he got angry, he even engraved his hands in the railing.  And the fact that he tensed up when Lex was ta…

Lex!

Without knowing why, fear overcame Reader and he rushed back into the ballroom. Running down an empty, cold corridor, entering the overcrowded, oppressive ballroom in search of the one he loved. Something inside him had awakened, something that would never leave him. That fear of losing the one his heart belonged to.

"Lex !," Reader's voice was silenced by the constent noises, as he swept his gaze across the crowded ballroom, searching for his husband. His heart raced, the fear that had lain dormant for so long awakening within him. He threaded his way among the whirling dancers, his eyes searching for the familiar face he hoped to see.

As he made his way through the guests, a familiar silhouette emerged from the crowd. Lex's worried expression mirrored Reader's own anxiety. They found themselves in the center of the ballroom, surrounded by the whirlwind of music and celebration.

"What's wrong?" asked Lex, in a voice soft but laced with concern.

"I was… I was…"

Reader was so reassured to see him. He couldn't explain what had happened to him, how he felt. He simply took him in his arms.

"Dear?"

"Where are the kings?" Reader asked."

"They are gone, they said they had things to think about."

Reader sighed with relief.

o0o

Days passed and the celebrations was now totally stopped. Lex's popularity among the higher-ups had increased since that evening. He had talked to the right people. Since then, he had been working on his political plans to find out what he would propose to the citizens in the election for the city's future mayor.

Reader, he was always at his side, never leaving him for too long. Ever since his discussion with Liu'er mihou, he hadn't been able to shake the fear of losing his lover. He'd felt this kind of fear before, when he was still a child, at the institute… The institute, he could hardly stop thinking about that sordid place.

He needed to talk. But he never talked about the institute to Lex... maybe it was time.

“Lex, can we talk please ?”

“Yes sweetie, what’s wrong ?”

“I haven’t be honest with you about my past.”

“What do you mean?”

“I said that I lived terrible things, that I had to kill to get the right to live. But… I haven’t told you the truth about why I had to.”

“To survive ?”

“No, that’s not what I meant.”

Frustration builds as much as the fear of telling the truth. What if Lex hated him by learning all about the institute, about his "comrades".

“Listen," said Lex calmly "I seek no more than to understand you and to know more about you, love. But even if the past has a way of influencing the present, it doesn't have to define it. I believe the choices we make now shape the future we create, not our past. So don’t feel obligated to reveal anything that would hurt you. Because I’m in love with you, no matter your scars. I can live with them, and I will help you soothe their pain. But that’s not them that I married, but you. I love you for who you are, not for who you were."

And just like it, all the fears and the tension Reader would have felt has been gone.

“Thank you… I love you so much, Lex” Reader's said, at the verge of tears.

Normally, Lex would have replied, "I love me too," but he sensed his husband's distress and simply couldn't joke at a time like this.

They hugged. In his embrace, Reader felt safe again. Away from the wolves that had dominated his life and driven him to do horrible things. Away from the institute. He was free and loved.

If only he knew that in no time at all, he'd lose everything, not to the wolves, but to two simians who, from the Flower-Fruit Mountain, were already planning how they were going to seize Reader's freedom.

A plan that had quickly been put in place as they received a sealed royal missive.

o0o

End chapter 2

Sorry if there is mistakes or sentences that doesn't mean anything, I tried my best to make it work. The bonus will be out tomorrow (sorry ;---;) Have a great day/night, bye !

<previous - next>

[forgottenluck]

Headed Towards 2024!

2023 in Retrospect

2023 has been.....a year. There were a lot of changes for me this year, and though not a lot with Koun changed, a lot happened irl. I didn't talk about a lot of it, though I did mention a few things here and there when I had enough energy to be online.

It's been....hectic.

A lot of life changes have happened; Being kicked out of our apartment due to a shitty landlord, my mother having a bunch of medical changes...then moving into a nursing home, Me finally being out on my own and no longer tied down by her.....I've gotten a promotion at work, finally able to make a difference there enough for even my DM to notice me.

Things are still rocky. I'm still finding my footing, working to figure out ways to boost my income since i no longer have to be wary of that. It's a lot. A lot to take in, a lot to adjust too.

Those who helped me keep going

I know that I was absent quite a bit...more so than I normally am on here. But there's been a few people who have really helped me keep going, helped me to want to be on here, helped me when things were dark. People who have stuck with me despite me vanishing from time to time because my energy to write comes and goes as my ADHD hits me with new hyperfocuses. Below are the people who have continued to check up on me, offer support when I needed it, and all around been very active with me OOC and IC.

@bishonenprince - You are seriously a light that I'm not sure I would be the same without. I know we just met this year, but I already consider you one of my closest friends on tumblr. You've managed to stick with me, despite me going dark a few times, been understanding to it. Our muses have such an interesting dynamic, and I can't wait to see how it grows. They'll likely still have their fights, still have bumps....that's just who they are. But Sora can't shake Koun, just like it'll be massively difficult for you to shake me.

@ofstarsandskies - Kika you lovable dork, You've been there in the background, liking posts, and we've spoken OOC quite often. I absolutely love how you and your muses are so supportive, and it means an absolute bunch to me that you've stuck around despite Koun being an absolute dick at times. I absolutely look forward to the new year, and possibly a new Koun for the brothers to interact with. He's softening...definitely.

@pastelfates - Verius my love, you've stuck with me for so long now, I don't exactly know what to do without you. This year was hard on me, and some of the things you did to help me, and cheer me up mean the world to me. I can't explain how much these things helped me, boosted my mood when I was in really dark places. I know you probably thought they were very little things....but to me, they meant the world. Eventually I'll figure out a way to repay you for all you've done for me....eventually.

@morifactory - In the same vein as Verius, Lena you've really been there in the background, silently supporting me. Earlier this year was...hectic. In all the wrong ways, and I'm glad that we've managed to go past it. I do plan on attempting to rp with more of your characters, (you just have so many I don't know where to start aaaaaaaaaAAAAA) but I look forward to this new year with you, and know that if you ever need anything, you can always count on me.

@loversquiver - Yukari my dear, though you aren't on tumblr much anymore, we definitely continue stuff OOC on discord. You're constantly checking in on me, making sure I'm okay. This means so much to me, and I really can't wait to see what the new year brings for these two dorks!

@taleswritten - Jay, I know we don't write nearly as much, but what we do, I absolutely love. I love that we communicate OOC, and you haven't been run off by my open-ness. This coming year I am gonna try to reach out to people more, you included, but I loved meeting you this year.

The people above are those who have stood out to me, made continous efforts, or have been with me for a long time. They mean a lot to me, and I can't wait to continue our stories together.

New friends that I've made just this year and can't wait to make more memories together!: @sootbled/@sootborn, @ama-tcra-su, @bonescribes, @thalassancharm, @talesofourworlds, @hxroic-wxlls

Good friends that I love to see on my dash! We might not have interacted much this year but hopefully next year! @juwul, @alm1ghtysea, @serenitasmusas, @miraiconnection, @ad-simul

If you're not on the list above, please don't fret. I likely just missed you! I do interact with a decent amount of people, and if we haven't interacted in a while, then it's likely i missed you. I appreciate every single one of my followers, and those who interact with me!

Moving into 2024

My plans for this next year....are a lot. For this blog, for tumblr in general, for my life.

This blog won't change much. I do want to reach out to more people, write more in general. I enjoy writing, I do! I just have to take breaks every few months to recharge so that I don't completely get burnt out on it. Koun is my second longest character to stay with me (the first is Erika for those of you who remember the cute little cupcake.). I do want to write more in general. Interact with more people, Help Koun grow more.

For tumblr in general, I do plan on reopening a multimuse sideblog. Well...a few, tbh. One of them is still in the works, but @zcrosht is almost fully functional. I need to get a few more icons made, and some graphics done (if anyone's willing to help me out on graphics that'd be lovely.) and the Rules/bios up, but It's ready to rp with! It'll be my first time rping Canon characters, so it'll be interesting.

For my life goals....I want to get a bit more financially stable. I'm going from only spending 250 a month on rent to 450-500, and despite the promotion it's still a bit difficult. I'll need to figure out how to boost that up without finding a new job (because I like my job now and I need to get supervisor experience so when I do go into a new job i can go in as a supervisor to get more money than grunt work.). It's going to be a learning curve....but I think I can handle it. I've made it this far.....I can keep going. I also plan on changing my diet and working to get a bit fitter.....I'm too close to 200lbs and I don't like it. (I look tiny though I do not know where all this weight is how the hell does this work--). I also need to go to the doctor for some health related issues that I need to get addressed. (mainly sleep and possibly ADHD meds....who knows.)

In general....I'm the happiest I've been in years. I'm the calmest I've been in years. The changes that happened in 2023...I think were for the better. Once I get all the kinks figured out.....I'll be good. It's a new chapter, and i think....I think it's a good one.

[msmoonbottle]

Lyrics form Halsey’s newest album that I deeply relate to after a month struggling with anxiety and a broken heart.

Only Living Girl in LA

“I was too soft for this world and they'd be right, because quite frankly, to be alive it shouldn't kill me every day, the way it does”

“I wake up every day and wish that I was different I look around and it's just me”

Ego

“Still a little kid that can’t make friends”

“And I'm all grown up but somehow lately I’m acting like a fucking baby I’m really not that happy being me”

Dog years

“And I’m trying to be positive but oh, it’s really hard I’m a loner, I’m a loser”

“'Cause I'm not old, but I am tired I'm not strong, I'm very weak I'm not old, but I am tired I'm not here, I'm somewhere else I'm not old, but I am tired”

Letter to God (1974)

“Please, God, I wanna be loved I don't wanna be somebody that they wanna get rid of”

Panic Attack

“My body carries sadness that my brain cannot yet see and I’ve been holding on to memories in my stomach and my teeth. And both my shoulders have been burdened by weight of my mistakes, and every time you lean in closer, both my knees can’t help but shake”

“My spirit has been broken my optimism's getting sore and I would love to love you but my body’s keepin’ score”

“Is it love or a panic attack? Is a heavy heart too much to hold?”

The end

“Could you love me like a child?

Could you hold me in the dark?

If you knew it was the end of the world

Would you like to stay a while?”

I believe in magic

“My momma’s getting old well, it’s contagious and you’ll catch it like a cold. She won’t admit it, but it’s some that I know ‘cause every year that passes for me passes her a hundredfold”

Letter to God (1983)

“Please, God, I wanna be loved I don't wanna be somebody that they wanna get rid of”

Hometown

“In our heads, we picked a husband from the hundred men we knew. But I kissed a poster of a pop star and checked my breasts in casе they grew”

“You know, I never felt like anyone, I was a paradoxal lie I didn't think that I was special”

I never loved you

“I never loved you in vain”

Darwinism

“I let it show and scare my suitors far away”

“If everyone has someone, then the math just isn't right and I'm the only outlier, the lonely archetype”

Lonely is the Muse

“I will exist in every second just to decorate your life and when you’re done, you can discard me like the others always do”

Arsonist

“I'm glued to a building that's on fire”

“Somebody will love me for the way that I'm designed. Devastation, creation intertwined”

“And there's a penance paid for entering the temple like a fraud in your charade you leave me sleeping in the dark so you can hide away your blade”

Life of the Spider (draft)

“God, how could I even think of daring to exist?

Looking just like this, I’m hideous”

Hurt Feelings

“And in a few years I will leave, but I'll perpetually believe that any man who says he loves me is hidin' somethin' up his sleeve”

Lucky

“I cry, cry, cry in my lonely heart, thinkin’ If there’s nothin’ missin’ in my life the why do these tears come at night?”

Letter to God (1996)

“Please, God, or whoever you are”

“These days I get less calls 'cause no one wants to hear my voice. I miss the days when I was gettin' texts that I could just avoid and I've been tryin' to be calm and not pre-emptively destroy I wonder who here really loves me”

The Great Impersonator

“No one has to know I could always hide but sometimes it might get to me, the things on all their minds. Life, they don’t know I’m lonely and, they don't know I'm kind or scared that I can't hack it with the current paradigm”

Alice of the Upper Class

“I know now what I always knew I don't belong here”

[kessielrg]

[Super Danganronpa 2] Pixel Perfect: Chapter 2

Chiaki is given a one-up.

Or, in which Izuru wonders if letting her die would have been more merciful than this.

And Hajime can’t stop apologizing.

Summary: In which Nekomaru is a bad liar.

Notes: /

Rating: K+

AO3 link: here

-

Nekomaru’s distraction was only enough to get everyone away from the airfield. After that, a lot of speculation started to surface.

“Hey Nekomaru.” Akane mused once they were back on the main island.

“Yes, we are still training this afternoon.” Nekomaru replied without a second guess.

“No, not that.” Akane disagreed with a shake of her head and a look of disgust. It quickly went away in favor of puppy eyes. “Where’d Mikan go?”

“She's likely at the hospital as we speak.” Nekomaru automatically said.

“Why would she be at the hospital?” Mahiru questioned. “None of us are sick.”

Nekomaru flinched.

“Well, uh...” he stammered. “That's easy! We have a visitor that needs Mikan exclusively. Yeah!”

“And WHO would trust the Remnants of Despair with their LIVES anymore?” Hiyoko snorted.

“She has a point.” the Ultimate Imposter agreed.

Nekomaru was sweating bullets now at this point.

“Shit!” he suddenly declared. “I need to shit!” And with that he ran as fast as he could to the first island ferry, leaving his peers behind.

“That was helpful.” Fuyuhiko sniffed, folding his arms in annoyance.

“No, but we have a clue.” Mahiru pointed out. “The hospital.”

“The hospital.” everyone agreed in unison. It didn't take much to know where they planned on going next.

-

“The hell you mean the hospital is closed?!”

Mikan flinched from Fuyuhiko's harsh words.

“W-w-well, you see...” she tried to sputter out. “We have a visitor and...”

“Bullshit!” Fuyuhiko continued to shout. “We know you’re hiding something in that hospital, asshole!”

Mikan let out a squeak of self defense- however meek it was. It was not enough to calm down Fuyuhiko's ire.

“Just tell us the truth, damnit!” he told her. “That's all we want!”

“I-I can't. Not yet.” Mikan told him- told everyone.

“Well that's just great.” Fuyuhiko huffed, throwing his arms up in the air. “Anyone else wanna wear her down?”

No one took him up on the offer. Instead they all looked to each other in wondering just how much effort they were going to put into the subject. Sonia in particular had her gaze fall upon Hajime. There was something in his face that she didn't quite recognize. Something that might have bordered on badly holding back the truth.

“Hajime knows.” she said outloud, surprising everyone. “Don’t you…?”

With all eyes on him, Hajime simply looked to the ground.

“So that's it.” Kazuichi decided. “We're just going to stay in the dark about this?”

“F-for a week.” Mikan supplied. “Give or take, but that was what we promised.”

“Promised who?” Peko inquired.

“The Future Foundation.” Mikan replied. “And... and her.”

-

A week could not pass by quick enough for former Class 77-B. The curiosity burned a hole into their minds and just would not let them go. It made it even more baffling to know that Nekomaru had suspended his afternoon training with Akane to also visit the hospital. Two of their own were involved with this 'visitor', and both refused to give any secrets as to who it was and why they wanted help from the Remants of Despair.

When Mikan finally opened the hospital again, her peers all but flooded the lobby.

“So just where is this mysterious visitor?” Gundham asked first. “These halls are mysteriously... unchanged.”

“In one of the rooms proper still.” Mikan told him. “B-but please, when you see them, try to... not squish them. Okay?”

“Squish them?” Sonia repeated with a curious tilt of her head.

Mikan nodded.

“You... you'll understand soon.”

With an anxious gesture to the hallway, Mikan beckoned her peers to follow her. They all followed in a single file line with their own sense of anxiety and excitement. They were finally going to meet their visitor! Who were they?

Mikan entered one of the hospital rooms and did not wait for anyone to follow her. Instead she went to the bedside. Everyone crowded in the room as she helped the someone laying on the bed into an upright position.

It took all of a second for everyone to shout the same name.

“Chiaki!!!”

All bets were off as the group stampeded their way to the bedside. A million and one questions were directed at Chiaki. She smiled through it all, but didn't answer any until everyone had calmed down a bit. The only one who gave her any sense of space was Hajime, who was still lingering near the door.

“How?!” Mikan wondered once most of the other questions had died down.

“Determination.” Chiaki playfully said, winching as she held her arms up to hold a superhero pose. She immediately put them back down again- they flopped at her sides like dead weights. It still took a lot of effort to move this early on.

It was Mikan who gave the real answer.

“S-she was kept in s-suspended animation by… by Izuru Kamukura.”

Everyone looked at Hajime.

“Is it true?” Nagito asked. There was a flicker of adoration in his eyes at the idea. Hajime pretended not to notice.

“It was easy for someone with the abilities of the Ultimate Chemist, Ultimate Nurse, and a few others.” Izuru informed them.

“Surely some luck as well.” Mikan nodded.

“H-her upper body seems to show signs of atrophy. But her v-vitals are all regular.” Mikan added. “It really is a m-miracle.”

“But?” Kazuichi asked, sensing that Mikan was holding back some information. “There has to be a ‘but’ in this situation.”

Mikan nodded- a nervous, regretful nod.

“H-her spinal cord. It… it’s badly damaged at certain nerves. It may l-look like, it really is, possible that Chiaki can never walk again.”

The news hit them like a freight train.

Mahiru was the one to ask, “So… Chiaki is paralyzed?”

“F-from the hips down, yes.” Mikan affirmed.

“It’s alright.” Chiaki herself told everyone. “I was never good at dancing games anyway.”

“This has nothing to do with the games you can’t play!” Hiyoko immediately reprimanded.

“Yeah! Your whole way of LIFE is going to change!” Ibuki agreed with her own gusto.

“It’s not going to be easy.” Fuyuhiko added. He pointed to his eyepatch. “Ask me how I know.”

“Which is why she’s got Mikan and me!” Nekomaru boasted. “We’ve already got a full work out regimen for her and everything. You should have seen her when she first got here! Couldn’t even sit up on her own or anything- now look at her!”

“Is it really that simple?” Peko wondered.

Chiaki laughed. The noise caught everyone’s attention as it turned from sounds of joy to tears.

“Chiaki!” everyone once more called out, but she waved them away.

“I’m so lucky.” Chiaki smiled to them.

The only one in the room that the smile didn’t assure was Izuru Kamukura.

[nightmarecountry]

🛀 to take a romantic bath with my muse / okay but consider. august knows dream is off busy somewhere and they sneak into his big ass fancy bathroom. ( did I send this already? I definitely thought about it, but I don't know if I actually. sent it. If you get this twice... that's on me. )

Were Dream still within the proper boundaries of his realm, they'd have had no chance of entering this place without his express permission. With him gone, though, locks are more malleable: doors open that ought to stay closed. The Corinthian ordinarily has little interest in snooping: he likes things that are forbidden to him, of course, has always had a taste for them, but the risk of displeasing their master far outweighs the potential reward.

Usually outweighs it, anyway.

There are some temptations he wasn't created to resist.

They sink together into a bath that is nearly the size of a swimming pool, the Corinthian dragging August after him into a hot sea of foam and swirling colour. Under the surface they go, and the Corinthian twists like a sea-serpent to pin August to the shining red tiles at the bottom of the pool. He kisses him, his grip relenting. Together they hang suspended in the water, hair floating, limbs slow.

When August pulls away to surface, the Corinthian follows him like a shadow on a leash. His mouths taste of dreamsand and comfort; he can see soft colours and warm sun behind his eyes, like a strange aftertaste from kissing the dream, and has to shake his head to rid himself of it. Strange. There's something missing from that kiss, he thinks, something visceral and blood-red that he wants from August but can't have from anyone but dreamers--and even then, it isn't quite enough.

"Do you think," says the Corinthian, affecting a nonchalance he doesn't feel as he tugs August's back against his chest, "that this is worth being thrown into Darkness for? He'll know someone was here." He bites August's shoulder, not yet knowing how hard he can sink his teeth in.