#throwing this out into the void and hoping it reaches people

[miggleverse]

PaddyEoin AU Idea:

Supernatural elements. Still set in Ireland before, during and after the events of SAS. Eoin as a nature fae whose territory encompasses the misty lake and surrounding forest that Paddy sometimes goes to when he needs a break from town.

Anyway, cut to Paddy stumbling across a half-hidden, moss ridden standing stone set deep in a glade he was sure definitely wasn’t there when walking to the lake in the morning. even before the war not being a particularly religious man, but enough of a poet to know when to tread carefully he leaves some of the fish from his earlier catch at the base and hopes he’ll wake up tomorrow in one piece – the beings attached to sudden springing alters can be a tricky lot. He goes home, goes to the pub and by the end of the night the experience is firmly out his head.

It remains that way the next time he winds through the wood on his next fishing excursion, muttering to himself trying to remember some Tennyson that won’t leave him alone

‘’ta for the trout, not many leave things when they find my stone.’’ All poetry momentarily forgotten Paddy whipped round, he was back in that glade again and standing in front of the cracked stone was the most waif-like young man paddy had ever seen. Unruly, dark curls did nothing to hide the tips of too long ears with his mouth pulled into a small, amused smile.

Recovering himself, ‘’and who the fuck are you?’’ The man’s long neck bobbed as he barked out a laugh, slightly too sharp teeth catching the sun before turning dark eyes back to Paddy

‘’you humans have called me many names, I forget most but I quite like Eoin. Ah I didn’t mean to startle you, was curious as to who left me a gift.’’

Ah fuck, he was a fae.

One of the high ones if his appearance was anything to go by, they were known to be beautiful. And the man before Paddy was that word made flesh and bone, standing before him like everything he was told not to want.

A shiver went through him as those eyes raked up and down, assessing, and Paddy felt not the familiar urge to rail against it, instead submitting himself to the creature’s examination. Whatever Eoin found caused a slow spreading smile, eyes bright and happy he pushed himself off the stone and reached a long-limbed arm out as if in greeting,

‘’will you give me your name then?’’

Part 2

[critical-birb]

Sometimes I feel inspired to pick up my art supplies again and draw and paint and print beautiful things. I feel a burst of love and passion like I had in my youth to create things and share them with the world.

Then I log onto Instagram or twitter or any of the places I was aggressively told in university to post work to eight times a day if I even wanted a chance to break into the industry, and I see every small company that uses to be the entry points for young artists now using crummy AI art for everything they do and all of the larger companies and publishers advertising art that has been so aggressively forced into one very specific, lifeless style because that is what fits the market and is quick to produce.

I see every artist desperately posting the most beautifully crafted artwork that means the world to them and those posts being mindlessly ignored until they beleive their work is worthless because Internet culture has unfortunatly conditioned us all to be bottomless consumers and so hundreds of hours of blood and tears is nothing more than something to scroll past.

Then I log out and go back to bed, and my art supplies sit sadly on the shelf another year.

People love to say "create for yourself!" but that only takes you so far. Humans create as a way to share.

Imagine you baked a stunningly beautiful cake every week to bring to work - it took you practically the whole weekend to bake every teir and frost it and decorate it to perfection. And either no one eats it or a single piece gets taken, and nobody ever thanks you. There's a thousand cakes on the coffee table; most either store-bought ones or even fake ones.

Eventually you stop bothering to bring a cake in. You still bake, sure. You like baking. But you don't make beautiful cakes anymore. You only have you to bake for, after all. What's the point in making them beautiful or trying to create something new when you could just eat it out of the baking tray with a fork?

Its just all so....sad, isn't it?

[bi-writes]

still wakes the deep au | soap x f!reader

Installment 2/?: Warning Signs

prompt: You're an environmental scientist conducting research on an off-shore oil rig with only a few days left before you're slated to leave. The eldritch creature they accidentally awaken throws a wrench in the works. masterlist

Being alone feels different when there’s nowhere to run. Every wall looks the same, and the stench of must permeates in every room–the carpet must hold it in. Everything drips; the taste of salt won’t go away, and it makes your eyes dry out every time you close them and open them again. There are other people around you, men that are the cause of the knocks against the rig, but they are as alien as what lies beneath you. Every time you feel as if it’s too foreign, you remind yourself that there is nowhere to go.

The only way out of this place is by doing your job; but even that scares you all of the sudden.

Your bed is lumpy. The mattress feels dry, stiff, and it barely gives as you lay in it. You stare up at the bottom of the top bunk, trying not to think about the sound of sea water pelting your window like a threatening knock while you try to sleep.

Your mind barely gives. You keep the lamp that sits on your makeshift desk turned on. Without it, the black of nothingness from outside bleeds through the walls, and you swear you can see a thousand different shapes that claw their way out of the moonlight towards you. The rig doesn’t shake, but it breathes. It lives, somehow, deep legs connected to the seafloor to keep it from drifting off, from separating, from taking you with it, from suffocating you until your breaths are filled with water and your body is too cold to–

You jump when the lamp bursts. A jolt of electricity shatters the bulb, and you sit up in bed, clutching the sheets as you watch the lamp glow slightly before fizzling out. The room blankets into the dark, and you move shakily off your bed and pat around for your flashlight before clicking it on. The small circle of yellow light doesn’t do what you hoped; instead, it makes the shadows of every object longer and seem further away, and they start to move as your hand shakes, so much so that you cannot tell if something is coming towards you or if your mind is still convincing you of some sort of seasickness. One lodged into your brain, one that doesn’t make you nauseous but makes you paranoid that some hole in the ocean will open up and take you with it.

The thought of drowning is not as terrifying as finding out what lies beneath the surface of the water.

When you used to think of the ocean, it used to soothe you. When you closed your eyes, all you could see was crystal clear blue and tropical fish. You thought about running your fingers through warm water and kicking your feet as you watched dolphins fly beside you. When the sun penetrated the light, it shined until it showed the seafloor, where little creatures burrowed beneath bright sand, making it sparkle.

The ocean you know now is anything like it. You understand what they mean when they say “mother nature,” because only a woman scorned could eat the world the way she does. Waves touching taller than buildings. Animals so large, they would swallow you whole and let the acid of their insides quiet your screams for nutrition. An endless void, reaching miles towards the center of earth, a vast unknown that crushes heavy metals and defies physics the further and further you drop. She’s unforgiving. Mean. A terrifying, wonderful thing, and you are cheating death. You know it. She screams at you from just outside your thin walls, and you are pretending not to hear her. She’s telling you something, but you bury your nose in your books.

If it’s a warning she’s trying to give, you won’t know it until it’s too late.

The rig groans in the middle of the night. You can hear the pipes expanding, the water moving aggressively outside your window, the sounds of cranes and metal creaking that rattle off around you. Your hand shakes a little as you try and find your shoes, slipping them on as you open your door in search of a new source of light.

It’s the middle of the night, but there’s still a skeleton crew around, moving between their night shifts. You make your way down the hall, clicking off your flashlight, and you find yourself in the rec room in search of light bulbs in the utility closet there. You hear the doors swing open behind you, and you try to ignore the rowdy voices of men as you stand on your tiptoes and rummage the hundredth box for what you need. You try not to think about the whisps of something delicate you feel grazing your fingertips (because spiders wouldn’t be this far out from land, right?).

“Looks like ye need a little help, bonnie.”

You startle yourself nearly out of your skin. You trip off the ledge you’re standing on, trying to hold your hands out to brace yourself, but you never hit the ground. Strong hands grip you around the middle, breaking your fall and getting you back onto your feet, nice and steady. You spin around, clutching your flashlight to your chest, panting like an anxious puppy. You can make out his blue eyes even in the dark, bright and seemingly concerned as Soap tries to get a grip on you to keep you from swaying.

“‘S alright, lass, ‘s just me! Soap, it’s Soap.”

You put a hand over your chest, trying to calm your breathing, You shake your head, closing your eyes as you try and repeat the mantra you’ve been telling yourself since you got on this stupid rig.

Your feet are on solid ground. Your feet are on solid ground. Your feet are on solid ground.

“Sorry,” you whisper. “I…”

“What are ye doin’ up?” He asks, clicking his tongue. “‘S the middle of the night! Reckon ye need yer beauty sleep.”

You smile a bit, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. You do it to placate him. Men don’t always respond well to sharp teeth, and you haven’t decided how you feel about this one yet. He’s too comfortable. His hands are still around your arms, thumbs smoothing too easily over the bone of your shoulders. He’s too close; he steps just nearer to you, tongue sliding over that top row of teeth, and you try not to think about the way his pupils dilate at the terrified look on your face, the one your smile cannot hide. When he tilts his head to the side, you think he means to look curious, but you think it closer to prey playing with its food. The curls of his growing mohawk fall over his forehead, drawing a dark shadow over his eyes, and you can no longer try to see what might give him away in his gaze.

“The light in my…room. I need a new one, I–” You shake your head. “It’s stupid, but I just…I can’t sleep.”

“We’ll get ye all right fer bed, love,” Soap chuckles. “What’s broken, ye ken what kind ye need?”

You blink, biting your lip, thinking. He’s still touching you; he still has his hands around your arms, but now they’ve settled around your elbow, calloused fingers curled over where they rest.

“I’m not sure. The lamp on my desk, it’s–”

“Ach, those are hidin’, I’m sure o’ it,” he lets you go, reaching up and hoisting down a few boxes before reaching for what lies behind them. He carries them on his shoulder before dropping them onto the floor, and you try not to think about watching him work. He’s a large man. Strong, that much is evident, but there’s something off. You think his physical appearance hides what lies inside. He’s pretty, in a way that shouldn’t be allowed. Straight teeth, a killer smile, arms that do not give once they’re taut with use. Even the uniform he wears does nothing to hide thicker thighs and a solid middle; but you try not to let it distract you from what really remains. If he wasn’t so gorgeous, you don’t think he’d get away with that tick that must exist in his brain. The one that allows him to crowd your space without much resistance. The one that lets him smile like that, like he’s won something, like he’s gotten what he wanted not because he fought for it, but because it is what he is owed. 

He bends over and picks up a bulb that looks good enough and hands it to you. When he straightens his back, you try to catch that look in his eyes again. Maybe he knows you’re looking for it, and now he’s hiding it. Maybe he’s cooing in his own head about what a clever girl you are and trying to decide how he’ll play his game differently.

“Can walk ye back, put it in fer ye.”

You take it from him, drawing a shaky breath. You want to say no. You want to tell him you can do it all on your own, that you’re fine, but then the closet door swings open, and a group of tired-looking crew stare at the two of you as they snicker and nudge each other.

“Wot ye doin’, Soap, seven minutes in heaven with the fuckin’ feds?”

“Och–shut the fuck up, the lot o’ ye,” Soap bites back. “Just doin’ her fuckin’ job, just like the rest o’ ye, so get the fuck out the way. Middle of the night, bunch of gobshites.”

Soap puts a hand around the small of your back, guiding you past the group and out into the hallway. He follows you wordlessly back to accommodations, stopping in front of your door. Your name isn’t on it, but you don’t comment about how he knew this was yours. He waits for you to open the door for him before following you inside.

“A right mess, luvvie.”

He doesn’t let you help. He kicks your bin under the desk, carefully discarding of the pieces of glass that are scattered across your desk. He grumbles under his breath about it being too sharp and how he will do it better and how he can take care of ye. 

When the lamp clicks back on, it paints the room in that comforting orange light, and you relax as you take a seat on your bed, clutching the sheets to dry your clammy palms. He still invades your space, but somehow, with the light, it dampens the sentiment. He scares you just a little less, but if you give him just that much, how much will he use it to his advantage?

“Ye need anythin’, I’m…just down there,” Soap says finally. He points behind him, down the north end of the hallway, and all you can do is nod. “Don’t listen to the lot, bonnie,” Soap adds. “Bunch o’ old, tired bastards. Mean no harm. But if they do, ye come ta me, ye hear?”

“Uhm…Soap?” You call out as he’s leaving. You don’t know why you stop him. You don’t know why you’re talking to him; you’re certain he’s not a stranger to telling a good lie. He turns to face you, leaning against the doorway, and you clear your throat. No one should look this good on just a few hours of sleep, but he’s still blinking awake, unsettlingly calm. “This place…it’s safe, right? I mean…safe as it ought to be?”

Soap smiles, but it’s not like his other smiles. It feels unnatural. His teeth are duller. Lips drier. Maybe he’s just tired.

“It’s safe, love. Swear it. Got me on those rivets.”

You don’t know why, but when he comes close to you, you let him. You let him touch your face, thick fingers smoothing down your jaw just a little too rough, big thumb along your bottom lip rubbing just a little too hard. You hear his door shut nearby once he goes.

The ocean screams. You can hear her again now that his voice is no longer around. You fall asleep knowing he’s close, and you pretend not to notice her. Just like always.

[sashaisready]

Starting Over: Chapter 3 - Bolt

Mob!Bucky x Female Reader

Series Masterlist

When Bucky throws you out of the house for a betrayal and won't listen to your side of the story, you know the only way out is through - it's time to start over. Maybe this was never going to be your happy ending.

Back again! I have split the final chapter into two parts as it makes more sense that way, you’ll see why when you read the last one – which hopefully I should be able to post later this week, or early next – I’m just working on getting it right. Warnings for angst, angst and angst in this part – sorry in advance. I felt a bit weepy writing this. I’ve been blown away by the support this story has received, especially as it was written on a bit of a whim, so thank-you for all your reblogs and comments – it means a lot!! Also shout-out to the recent Variety SebStan photoshoot - very inspirational...

💔

You were sleeping like the dead, it was a miracle that anything could’ve woken you – but the soft click of the hotel door opening must’ve cut through the void somehow, because you shot up in bed awake, disorientated and suddenly on alert. Your breathing was heavy as you adjusted to your surroundings. What…where were…?

Bucky gently closed the door behind him and rushed over to your bedside.

“Hey, hey…it’s just me, you’re okay doll. I’m sorry I startled you. I was trying to slip in quietly…” he cooed, “I thought knocking might be too jarring…stupidly…”

You blinked at him, you were just able to make out his face in the dark as recognition sunk in. His features were subtly illuminated by the parking lot lights, the room’s curtains doing little to keep that glare out. He looked tired and drained; his hair unkempt. There was a weariness in his face that you hadn’t seen before. You groggily flicked on the bedside lamp as your brain caught up with the rest of you.

For a blissful moment you’d forgotten it all, from the haze of sleep, you’d forgotten why you were here. Bucky! Bucky is here! Your safe place. You began to smile and instinctively moved towards him. He smiled too, a relieved smile, holding out a hand to you so you reached for it with your own –

Wait.

Oh.

You saw the hope in his eyes dwindle when you jerked away from him, a scowl hardening your expression as you whipped your hand back as quickly as if it had been burnt. You pulled the sheets high and tight, covering your body as if you didn’t like that any of you was visible to him.

As he tried to lean over to get closer to you, you greeted him with a blunt, hard slap across the face.

He recoiled, his hand moving to his stinging cheek as he stood up to his full height and stepped back, “fine. I deserved that…”

“What are you doing here?” you sneered, “How did you even get in?”

He tilted his head towards the door and held up a key card, “They let me in. They gave me a key”.

“Well, they shouldn’t have! They shouldn’t just give away door keys to random people…”

“They don’t, just me,” he smirked.

You rolled your eyes and turned away, “You think this is funny?”

“Doll…” he reached out to you again, but you smacked his hand away.

“No,” you growled.

“I found out the truth…I know it wasn’t you. I’m so sor-” he sounded frantic, stuttering and jumbled, worlds away from the cool and collected man you knew so well. But you were unmoved, his betrayal still stinging and raw.

“I don’t care,” you interrupted, your tone flat and cold, “it’s too late”.

“I should’ve listened to you. I’m so sorry, baby. I flew off the handle without talking to you. I should’ve trusted you…” he pleaded.

“Yes, you should’ve,” you snapped bitterly, “but you didn’t. You wouldn’t let me talk, you just shouted…then you threw me out with nothing! Like I was trash! I walked for nearly two miles alone in the dark, in the middle of the night, Bucky. Anything could’ve happened to me…” your voice wobbled slightly at the end of your sentence; you took a deep breath – refusing to let anymore tears fall for him.

He dipped his head, his gaze dropping, unable to look at you. “I know, you’re right…I keep thinking about it…I keep…”

“Save it!” you shouted, a little more emotional than you intended. “All I wanted was for you to listen to me. I don’t know anything about a recording, or my phone pinging, or whatever you were ranting about. I just can’t believe you wouldn’t believe me, after everything we’ve been through…”

He sighed heavily, then withdrew his phone from his pocket. He began to scroll through.

You scoffed, “what are you-”

And then your voice, clear as day, rang out from his phone. Bucky held it up towards you, his face pained. You listened, stunned, as you heard yourself on the recording. It was so real you almost considered that it was you, and you’d somehow forgotten that you’d actually said it.

“Just give me a bit longer and I’ll have that one-armed pussy spill everything…”

After it had finished, you furrowed your brows in confusion, your mouth hanging open.

“But that wasn’t…” you whispered.

“I know. I know that now,” he sighed, putting the phone back in his pocket. “Rumlow set it up. He put it together with cutting edge AI, some advanced tech Stark helped develop. He also planted fake footage of you on the CCTV. Took your phone to an incriminating location. But Sam caught him tonight. He’s been working with the feds to bring me down, to make room for a HYDRA revival. He knew I’d be weaker and easier to takedown if you and I fell apart, so breaking us up was a two-birds-one-stone deal”.

You blinked, bewildered, a chill running through you as you thought about the lengths someone would go to in order to break you and Bucky up. You knew a little about HYDRA, the rival syndicate that Bucky used to work for before he struck out on his own. They’d been defunct for years, or so Bucky had told you. The implication of someone being able to make your voice say anything they wanted also haunted you. Rumlow could’ve even framed you for a crime with such technology. It was…scary.

You could see why Bucky freaked out, presented with all of this incriminating evidence, but…

“Rumlow didn’t break us up, Bucky”, you said quietly as your words sharpened. “You did. You could’ve come to me first. You could’ve showed me this and we could’ve set everything straight. Instead…you went nuclear…”

He dropped his gaze again to the threadbare hotel carpet, unable to meet your eye. It was almost funny, he looked small for the first time since you’d met him. Despite his towering height and hulking frame, he almost seemed like a little boy in that moment.

“…I just can’t believe you thought I’d do something like that to you. That I’d betray you like that. That I could look you in the eye every day and lie to you and…”

He suddenly looked up, quickly snatching your hand, “I’m so sorry, doll, this is the biggest mistake I’ve ever made…I’d do anything to take it back…”

“Well you can’t!” you sniped back at him as you tore your hand away from his, tears in your eyes. “You must think so low of me that you think I’d be capable of this. And all the stuff you said about me leeching off you for your money! I’ve never been comfortable spending your cash and you know that! I can’t believe you’d throw it all back in my face…”

“Baby, I didn’t mean that. I didn’t mean of it. I was hurt…” he said, the desperation building in his voice as his eyes widened, “I was just trying to hurt you the way I thought you’d hurt me. I didn’t really think it. I never have”.

“It must’ve come from somewhere!” you spat venomously, “you didn’t pull it out of thin air…”

“I promise. I was just throwing words out and didn’t care what they were as long as they hit. I just was so mad,” he sat down on the bed and began running his hands through his hair as he closed his eyes, he always did that when he was stressed.

He sighed heavily, then turned to you, “Look”, he began – his voice soft now. “I guess part of me always thought this was too good to be true…everything happened so quickly when we met. I’d always been content with one-night stands and casual hook-ups. Then I met you, and…” he trailed off as he chewed his lip, carefully choosing what to say.

You watched him, your earlier anguish now hardened into pure rage, you wanted to kick him out – send him out into the street the way he had with you. But you also wanted to hear this. You wanted to understand what possible reasoning there could be for causing of this pain. What weak excuse he could use to try and justify his cruelty. He looked at you again. His eyes were kind, warm. But you couldn’t help but remember the coldness in them from earlier. You didn’t think you’d ever forget it.

“I guess…everything changed. I fell for you so hard. You took over my life. Invaded my thoughts, my senses. I just wanted to be with you all the time. And to my surprise…you felt the same. This sweet, wonderful woman wanted to be with me, too. I was sure you’d turn away when you found about my job…my past…my scars, my arm... Because why wouldn’t you? You were kind and decent. You saw the best in people. How the hell could you love someone like me? A killer. A monster…”

“Bucky, I…” you croaked.

“Please, just let me finish…” he pleaded, “but somehow, you did love me. And I know you moved in with me quickly, but it felt right. You had a rough start in life, and all I ever wanted to do was take care of you and fix it so you didn’t have to worry about money or paying bills or any of that ever again. I wanted you to sleep soundly, knowing I would protect you and do right by you and you wouldn’t have to sling burgers and fries to get by anymore. And part of me knew it was selfish…because you deserved better than me. You deserved the white picket fence, a dull but decent man with a boring job who comes home and tells you about whatever shit Janet in Accounting got up to that day. But no, you had me – who stole you from that peaceful future to make myself happy. I worked late and committed violent acts. I had to give you bodyguards just in case. I uprooted your entire life. I did my best to give you the love you deserve, but I couldn’t even get that right. When I heard that tape…it was like the universe telling me what I already knew - I wasn’t worthy, and the debt I owed was getting collected. I guess part of me always expected I’d inevitably screw it up, because I never deserved you in the first place. And I’m just sorry that I proved myself right”.

You sniffed back your tears, bowled over by his words. He’d never said anything like this to you before, you had no idea he held those insecurities. The silence hung heavily between you, until you finally spoke, your voice shaky.

“But I was happy slinging burgers. And I never wanted the boring guy. I never wanted the white picket fence. I wanted you, Buck. Only you. I knew who you truly were, and it didn’t matter. It never mattered. You did deserve me. You did deserve love and everything we had…until…well…this”.

He nodded sadly, taking your hand in his.

“I know that now, doll, I do. I ended up sabotaging the best thing that ever happened to me because of my own fears. And that’s on me. But look…I need to ask, do you think you could ever forgive me? I’ll do whatever it takes, I’ll go at whatever pace you want…We can just be friends and see how it goes. I’ll go to therapy to sort out my shit. Anything. I’ll never doubt you again. All I ask is that you give me one final chance to fix this. Please, doll…I’m begging you…”

You looked into his big blue eyes, glossy with his unshed tears. Your heart ached and twisted at the sight. You’d never seen him looking so vulnerable before, so lost. You loved him so very much. You would’ve taken a bullet for him if he’d asked. He was correct that the two of you had moved fast in your whirlwind romance, but it always felt like a natural progression. It had always felt right.

But something had shifted. Something monumental. And you didn’t know if it could ever be like it was. It was wrong now.

“I’m sorry Bucky, I can’t….I…” you whispered, squeezing his hand as your tears began to fall. “I want to…I just…I don’t know if I can…”

He inhaled deeply and your heart shattered as you saw the flash of anguish in his eyes. But then he took a moment, a sad but accepting smile creeping over his face. He leaned over and wiped away your tears with his thumb.

“It’s alright, doll” he told you softly. “This was my fault. I’m not gonna force it or push you to forgive if you’re not comfortable doing so, okay? Not because I don’t care or don’t want to fight for you. But because I love you, and loving someone means sometimes you have to let them go”.

You nodded as you looked up into his eyes, but the tears wouldn’t stop.

“Hey, c’mon…” he soothed.

He quickly vanished into the en-suite bathroom, returning with a small wad of toilet paper to dab at your tear-soaked cheeks. He extended a finger and gently moved it under your chin, propping your face up to look at his. The tenderness and care he showed you was what you were used to with Bucky. This was the version of him you’d always known. It almost made you forget about everything. Almost.

You both shared a small smile. A melancholic smile, a smile that you both understood meant too much had happened here tonight. Too much had changed. You can’t put the toothpaste back in the tube. Nothing was spoken, but everything was said.

It was hard to know how much time had passed, but eventually he got up and moved to the door. You didn’t stop him, and he didn’t ask you to. He ran a finger over your trusty red backpack as he passed the desk. He chuckled and picked it up, “I should’ve known this old thing was involved. I couldn’t for the life of me figure out how you left with no clothes or money…but you’ve always been the most resourceful person I know.”

You smiled back at him weakly.

“It’s funny…” he mused as he caressed the straps, “you had this emergency kit already to go. Just in case…”

You shook your head, “no…it wasn’t meant to be a kit, it was just left from where I moved in with you. I didn’t-I just dumped it when I…”

“Yes…left fully packed and untouched. With clothes and cash. And debit cards, presumably. Stashed in a closet by the front door. That doesn’t strike you as a choice? A plan? Even if you weren’t fully aware of it?” he asked.

You didn’t respond as the silence laid thick between you. Incisive Bucky, as always. He could read you better than anyone on the planet. You knew he was right, he knew it too. You swallowed, looking down at the frayed thread on the bedsheet.

“You are always planning, doll. Because you always had to, with the life you’ve had. You always had to keep moving and stay one step ahead. We both know that”.

Again, he was met with your silence as you pulled at the thread. But there was no denial. You couldn’t deny the truth.

“Guess we both had our own ejector seats for this plane,” he mused as he moved the bag back to how he found it. “Looks like we had even more in common than we knew”.

He was right, again. It seemed that both of you had your anxieties and insecurities about this relationship. Both of you were maybe a little too cynical and world weary to believe in happy ever afters. His had manifested in anger, in rage…yours in being ready to flee at any time. Both of you had been on the starting line waiting for that pistol to fire.

But it had only finally imploded because of him.

He continued his slow march to the door, clearing his throat as he looked back at you.

“I meant what I said, every word. I’d do anything to get you back. I’d go at any pace, I’d take whatever you offered – in any form, as long as I’m still in your life in some way. I’d spend the rest of my days apologising if I had to. But honestly, I’d also be happy just to be your friend. Okay? So, you can call me, text me, anytime. Hell, just send me an emoji. Even if you just to talk. Even just to yell at me. I’ll always pick up, I promise”.

He pulled a business card from his wallet and placed it on the desk, “here. Put my number in your new phone when you get one”.

You stayed mute, but your eyes followed his hand as he gently put the card down.

“Will you be okay? For money, I mean?” he asked as his hand rested on the doorhandle, “because I can…”

“I’ll be fine Buck, I always am”.

“Yeah doll, I know”, he said softly.

Neither of you said goodbye. Maybe it was too hard to actually say the word out loud. Speak it into existence and accept its reality. So, he just nodded at you, and you smiled back, and you tried not to think about the tears glistening in his eyes or that painful tugging in your chest.

A few seconds later he was gone, and then it was as if he’d never been there at all.

[hrrtshape]

⠀ ⠀welcome to the manifesting seance club.

sit down. no, seriously, sit. the spirits are pacing. the stars are staring. you’re being perceived in real time.

AHEM. before we begin, a moment of academic showboating: the knowledge i am about to graciously, magnanimously, almost divinely bestow upon you has been extracted from sources so reputable, so critically esteemed, that to ignore them would be akin to walking past the oracle at delphi and asking a guy named kevin for directions instead. sources such as . . . ୨୧

" esoteric astrology " by alice a. bailey " the astrology of fate " by liz greene " saturn : a new look at an old devil " by liz greene " hellenistic astrology : the study of fate and fortune " by chris brennan

all of which are required reading if you want to, you know, actually know things. otherwise, feel free to just wing it. people have built entire careers off of significantly less.

anyway, welcome to manifesting séance club. which is to say, a completely necessary and not at all ridiculous initiative in which i, with the help of the cosmos, will deign to tell you exactly how you should be manifesting based on your zodiac sign. you can take this with the weight of divine scripture, or you can take it with a large, gratuitous grain of salt and see this as entertainment only. either way, the planets have spoken.

 　　. . . now, let’s see what they say about you

⠀⠀ ✶ ⠀⠀ 𝐚ries⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

omen : aries manifests like they’re storming the beaches of normandy. it’s not a process, it’s an ambush. every morning, a new battle plan scrawled on a napkin, ripped in half by noon. immediate results or nothing at all. there’s no patience for the slow drip of reality conforming to their will. they want tectonic shifts, they want fireworks, they want god himself to clock in some overtime.

fate’s verdict : cosmic tantrum. they don’t wait for the stars to align, they drag them into formation. but the universe prefers the long game, and aries does not. the lesson here is simple . . . it will happen, but not in the way you’re trying to force it. stop manifesting like you’re throwing grenades into the void.

⠀꒰ prescription : let go. just a little. just enough to let the universe breathe. ⠀manifestation is not a hostage situation.

⠀⠀ ✶ ⠀⠀ 𝐭aurus⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

omen : taurus manifests like an investment banker, a landowner, a careful deity counting their coins before distributing miracles. they do not believe in asking the universe for favours without putting down collateral, vision boards, rituals, journals so thick they could stop a bullet. the future is built in increments, brick by brick. manifestation as empire-building.

fate’s verdict : a little too grounded, a little too rational. taurus sometimes mistakes manifestation for a to-do list rather than an act of faith. this is the hill they will die on, ledger in hand.

⠀꒰ prescription : loosen the grip. manifestation isn’t a contract, you don’t need a ⠀cosigner. ask. then trust that it’s being worked out somewhere beyond your ⠀jurisdiction.

⠀⠀ ✶ ⠀⠀ 𝐠emini⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

omen : gemini manifests like a conspiracy theorist with a corkboard full of red string. everything is possible, every reality is within reach. they could be a doctor, a poet, a movie star, a revolutionary, sometimes all in the same afternoon. the problem is the sheer velocity of belief. one day they’re visualising love, the next they’ve decided celibacy is the key to enlightenment. their manifestations lack consistency, collapsing under their own contradictions.

fate’s verdict : too many tabs open. gemini’s mind is a quantum superposition of possibilities, but the universe prefers clarity. pick a lane. stay in it.

⠀꒰ prescription : write it down. once. no revisions. stick to it for longer than a week.

⠀⠀ ✶ ⠀⠀ 𝐜ancer⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

omen : cancer manifests like a poet in a garret, talking into the dark, hoping the cosmos is listening. emotions are the currency, nostalgia the driving force. manifestation as longing. as a half-forgotten song. they dream in sepia tones, in candlelight and old film reels. they don’t just want something, they want to be consumed by it.

fate’s verdict : beautiful. but manifestation is an act of creation, not just yearning alone.

⠀꒰ prescription : clarify the vision. make it real, tangible, specific. want, but also ⠀act.

⠀⠀ ✶ ⠀⠀ 𝐥eo⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

omen : leo manifests like a celebrity giving an acceptance speech before the award has even been announced. they assume the universe is their audience, their stage, their greatest admirer. naturally, their manifestations are grand, cinematic, dripping with self-belief. they don’t request, they declare. they don’t doubt, they expect.

fate’s verdict : they’re not wrong, but sometimes they rely too much on the applause. the universe doesn’t care about the optics, it cares about the energy behind them. manifestation is not performance art.

⠀꒰ prescription : make sure you want it for you. not for the audience, not for the ⠀applause, not for the standing ovation. just for you.

⠀⠀ ✶ ⠀⠀ 𝐯irgo⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

omen : virgo manifests like an engineer drafting blueprints for god. meticulous, precise, airtight. a plan within a plan within a plan. they don’t just manifest . . . they optimise. they find flaws in their own dreams before they’ve even begun, tweaking and adjusting, searching for perfection before the universe even has a chance to deliver.

fate’s verdict : manifestation requires some degree of surrender. virgo’s approach is admirable, but they risk micromanaging the cosmos. control is an illusion. perfection is a myth.

⠀꒰ prescription : stop editing the vision. let it breathe. let it live.

⠀⠀ ✶ ⠀⠀ 𝐥ibra⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

omen : libra manifests like an artist with too many unfinished canvases. they want everything, in all its beauty, but they can never quite decide what to ask for. they spend more time weighing options than actually committing to a vision. manifestation as a game of what-if.

fate’s verdict : indecision is the enemy. the universe responds to clarity, not hesitation. a wish half-made is a wish unheard.

⠀꒰ prescription : pick something. anything. stick to it. see it through.

⠀⠀ ✶ ⠀⠀ 𝐬corpio⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

omen : scorpio manifests like a sorcerer muttering in a locked room, like an old god stirring in its sleep. manifestation as alchemy. as transformation. their will is absolute, their focus terrifying. they do not just ask for what they want, they become it.

fate’s verdict : powerful, but isolating. scorpio sometimes forgets that manifestation doesn’t have to be a solitary act, that the universe is not an adversary but an accomplice.

⠀꒰ prescription : soften. let it in. manifestation is not a lone pursuit.

⠀⠀ ✶ ⠀⠀ 𝐬agittarius⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

omen : sagittarius manifests like an explorer mapping out an undiscovered country. they see possibility everywhere, in every corner of the universe. their manifestations are broad, open-ended, half-prayers, half-dares. they don’t demand, they leap.

fate’s verdict : good energy, unfocused. sagittarius needs to narrow the scope, sharpen the vision.

⠀꒰ prescription : be specific. manifestation is not a vague wish upon a star.

⠀⠀ ✶ ⠀⠀ 𝐜apricorn⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

omen : capricorn manifests like an architect designing a cathedral that will take centuries to complete. slow, steady, methodical. they don’t just wish; they work. they lay foundations while others are still drafting dreams.

fate’s verdict : excellent, but exhausting. capricorn sometimes forgets that manifestation is not solely an act of labour. effort is crucial, but so is belief.

⠀꒰ prescription : trust. allow for miracles. not everything requires blood, sweat, and ⠀spreadsheets.

⠀⠀ ✶ ⠀⠀ 𝐚quarius⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

omen : aquarius manifests like a mad scientist in a laboratory of their own making. their visions are radical, their ideas borderless. they do not want what others want. their manifestations often seem impossible until, suddenly, they’re not.

fate’s verdict : brilliant, but scattered. aquarius has a habit of overcomplicating what should be simple. manifestation is not always a revolution.

⠀꒰ prescription : simplify. sometimes the best way forward is the obvious one.

⠀⠀ ✶ ⠀⠀ 𝐩isces⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

omen : pisces manifests like a dreamer lost in their own reverie. manifestation as fantasy, as daydream, as an ethereal whisper into the cosmos. they believe in miracles, in divine intervention, in the soft hand of fate guiding them.

fate’s verdict : beautiful, but passive. manifestation is co-creation, not just waiting for the stars to do the work.

⠀꒰ prescription : dream, but also know. the universe moves when you know.

[elleandstufff]

Only the Best for Our Girl ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Despite many setbacks, your two boyfriends want to make sure you have an amazing birthday <3

Thanos/Choi Su-bong x fem!reader x Nam-gyu 

Requested by @heartlivv !! Hope you had a happy birthday <3

Warnings: Stressful at first but then very fluffy, birthday surprises, Team Thanos cameo because I love them all, honestly just super cute stuff! <3 2k words

ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ

You groan as your phone alarm blares in your ears. You sit up and pull your phone from underneath your pillow to shut it up. It’s dark in your bedroom, but you still can see that neither of your boyfriends stir at your sides. The two of them were out late at the club–Nam-gyu working and Su-bong performing. You unfortunately couldn’t go because you had to be up so early for work. 

You scroll through your phone for a minute to wake yourself up. You already have a couple of birthday messages from distant great aunts and a random classmate you haven’t spoken to in years. You nearly groan. Your birthday. You haven’t exactly been dreading the day, but you haven’t been looking forward to it either. Last year you were sick on your birthday, and your festivities had to be cancelled. This year, you have to work on your birthday and you have no plans. 

You decide to stop wallowing and get up. You climb over Su-bong like you usually do, since he’s the heaviest sleeper out of the two of them. Unsurprisingly, he doesn’t stir. 

You get yourself ready and to work on time. You spend the whole day working your ass off. Today conveniently ends up being twice as busy and stressful as usual. None of your coworkers realize that it’s your birthday either. It’s not like you want them to kiss your ass all day, but it would be nice if someone would at least acknowledge it. All employee birthdays are posted on the bulletin in the break room. You always told everyone else happy birthday, brought them little gifts even. You would just appreciate it if someone could tell you happy birthday, or at the very least not throw on responsibilities that aren’t even a part of your job. 

The thing that’s bothering you the most is the lack of texts from your boyfriends. Birthday texts started trickling in from your friends as they woke up. But your boyfriends didn’t text you once. Usually the three of you texted as much as possible throughout the day in your group chat. It’s a busy day, but you check your phone every break you get only for it to be void of messages from the two most important people in your life. After lunch you start to worry. They wouldn’t forget, right?

ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ 

Meanwhile, at your apartment, Nam-gyu shoots awake. He grabs his phone from the bedside table and sees the time. It’s way later than they were supposed to be getting up. He stumbles out of bed and rips the curtains open. The infiltration of light nearly blinds him, but does nothing to wake Su-bong. He sighs and shakes Su-bong awake. The ordeal takes several minutes until he sits up with a groan and reaches for his vape. 

Nam-gyu looks at him with wide eyes while Su-bong looks at him confused. He suddenly realizes and nearly chokes on his vape. 

“Shit, it’s our girl’s birthday and we slept in,” he says while coughing and swatting away the flavored vapor swirling around in front of his face. “I knew I should’ve cancelled that performance last night.” 

“Her birthday sucked last year, and we already fucked up this year,” Nam-gyu says. 

“Dude, we are not giving up!”

Nam-gyu looks down sadly. “There’s no way we would get it all done before she gets home.” 

Su-bong leaps out of the bed, his leg tangled in the sheet. He catches himself before he hits the ground, looking back at Nam-gyu with a goofy grin on his face. “You coming or what?” 

Nam-gyu follows after him, shaking his head. He had put together most of the plans and they were a lot. How the hell were they going to pull this off? 

Nam-gyu pulls the to-do list up on his phone and shows it to Su-bong. His eyes widen when he sees everything on it. “Shit. Where do we even start?”

“You go buy a cake, candles, and balloons. I’ll stop at the store on the corner and buy drinks and snacks. Then, I’ll come back and wrap all her presents.” 

Su-bong nods cartoonishly, before starting toward the bedroom to get presentable to the outside world. He stops halfway there and swivels to face Nam-gyu again. “Wait, what kind of balloons? And how many?” 

“Any, and a shit ton.” 

Nam-gyu starts getting himself ready as fast as he can. Su-bong probably isn’t the best person to send to get all this stuff, but they can’t be picky right now. 

He runs to the corner store to pick up a ton of sugary drinks, snacks, and ice cream. Back home, he almost forgets to put the ice cream in the fridge, but he remembers at the last second right before it melts. He pulls the pile of hidden presents from the closet. There’s so many that he has to make two trips to drag them all to the living room. They might have gone a little overboard with the presents this year. Actually, Su-bong had been the one that had bought you most of the presents. It was a lot, but they wanted your birthday to be special this year. 

Nam-gyu pulls out the wrapping paper that you had bought and used for both of their birthdays. He had meant to buy more, but the thought completely slipped his mind. He terribly wraps the first few presents before the wrapping paper runs out. He frantically grabs his phone to call Su-bong, but he hears buzzing. Su-bong’s phone is still sitting on the kitchen counter. Nam-gyu turns to the stack of newspapers and mail the three of you had been meaning to go through for weeks. Yeah, that could work. 

ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ 

Su-bong hurriedly walks into the third store of the day. Apparently, balloons were harder to find than he expected. He didn’t know the first thing about shopping. You usually did most of the shopping. If he needed something he would order it online. Now he didn’t have that option, nor did he have his phone to look up what stores sold balloons. 

He rounds the corner to find a wall full of balloons. He sighs in relief, but there’s so many options. Nam-gyu said it didn’t matter, so he grabs as many packages of purple balloons as he can. Next, he heads to a bakery and picks out a cake that he thinks you’ll like. He has the baker write happy birthday in swirly purple letters. He smirks to himself as he heads home. The balloons and the cake match. He’s not so bad at this afterall. 

Back at home, he finds Nam-gyu folding newspapers and torn-out magazine pages around your presents. “We ran out of wrapping paper and you left your phone so I couldn’t tell you to buy more.”

Su-bong dramatically taps his fingers against his chin in fake thought. “Hmm… That’s a really weird way to say thank you, Su-bong, for driving to three different balloon stores and a bakery in record timing.” 

Nam-gyu gives a slight smile. “It was pretty fast…” 

Su-bong starts blowing up the balloons and fastening them to the wall like the picture Nam-gyu showed him. Nam-gyu finally finishes with the presents and moves on to setting out all the snacks and drinks. Su-bong hurries as he blows up the balloons. After what feels like a ton of balloons, he looks up only to realize that the balloons he’s already done barely cover the corner. He didn’t realize blowing up balloons was this hard. 

He keeps blowing up the balloons, not even stopping when he hears a knock at the door. Nam-gyu swings the door open to reveal Se-mi, Min-su, and Gyeong-su. Nam-gyu greets them, while Su-bong absentmindedly mutters a hello. 

“Hello to you too, Thanos,” Se-mi chides. “What’s got the two of you freaked out?” 

“She’s going to be home in like an hour, and Su-bong is not even halfway through with the balloon wall,” Nam-gyu says, while Su-bong blows up another balloon until his face nearly goes blue. 

“Well, whose idea was it to have the guy who sleeps with a vape in his hand to blow up a hundred balloons?” 

Nam-gyu and Su-bong look between each other. She’s got a point. 

Se-mi gets to the floor to start blowing up balloons. She ushers Min-su and Gyeong-su over who had already started eating the snacks. Between the four of them, they’re able to get the wall filled up with shiny purple balloons merely minutes before you’re expected home. 

ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ 

Your work day finally ends. With a sigh, you head out. You still never received a single text from either of your boyfriends. They must’ve forgotten. 

You feel utterly exhausted, so you stop to get a coffee. Hopefully with the caffeine you can stay up and at least do something with Su-bong and Nam-gyu, but it’s going to be an awkward conversation when you get home. 

You drink most of the coffee on the way home. When you get to the front steps of your apartment, you nearly trip and what’s left of your coffee falls to the concrete. Could this day get any worse? 

You unlock the door to find the house completely dark and quiet. They’re seriously not even home? 

You flip the switch on to see a wall full of balloons. Confused, you step inside. 

“Surprise!” Your boyfriends and best friends all jump out from various hiding places. 

Your hands fly up to cover your face in shock. Su-bong and Nam-gyu run at you with giddy smiles to envelope you in a giant hug. You can’t help the giant smile on your face as they kiss both of your cheeks. “I thought you guys forgot!” 

“Pssh! What? We would never forget!” Nam-gyu says. 

“Yeah, we would just accidentally sleep in and spend the day frantically getting things ready on time!” Su-bong says, and Nam-gyu discreetly elbows him. 

“So that’s why you haven’t texted me all day.” The realization dawns on you. 

Next, you turn to Se-mi, Min-su, and Gyeong-su to thank them for coming. “Your dorks can be pretty cool when they try to be,” Se-mi jokes while you hug her. 

The six of you spend a couple hours playing party games on the TV and eating a week’s worth of snacks. After a while, you move on to open the mountain of presents in the corner. “You can start with this one!” Gyeong-su hands you a nicely wrapped present. 

“That one is from the three of us,” Se-mi says, then whispers, “But actually it’s from me.” 

You thank the three of them even though it is obvious Se-mi picked the gift out and wrapped it. You move on to the other presents. A few of them are wrapped in actual wrapping paper. The rest are wrapped in crumpled newspaper or magazine pages. All of them are poorly wrapped with huge chunks of tape everywhere. 

“We ran out of wrapping paper…” Nam-gyu sheepishly mutters, but you think it’s sweet that he still went through the effort of wrapping them all. 

As you open the presents, you realize that these are all things you had wanted throughout the year. Some of the items you had seen online nearly a year ago. 

“Everytime this year that you said you liked something, I wrote it down in my phone. I wanted to make sure you got everything you wanted…” Su-bong says, and the room breaks into awwws. 

Once you get through all the presents, Nam-gyu pulls out the birthday cake and ice cream. “Candles?” he says to Su-bong with his hand outstretched. 

“Fuck…” Su-bong’s face drops as he realizes. “I forgot them. But, I have a cigarette we can use!”

He digs around in his pocket and pulls out a pack of cigarettes. He sticks it in the cake and lights it as they sing happy birthday to you. When they finish with the song, you “blow” the cigarette out then snuff it out in the nearby ashtray. 

You sit around the table eating your cake and thinking about how lucky you are. 

Your boyfriends notice your quietness as the rest of your friends bicker over something. They each take one of your hands in theirs. “You okay?” Nam-gyu asks.

“Yes,” you answer. “I’m just really thankful for all this.” 

“Only the best for our girl,” Su-bong says.

“Only the best,” Nam-gyu repeats.

˗ˏˋ Masterlist ˎˊ˗

[foreverabby]

Abby after heartbreak.

Let's tear ourselves open for a moment, shall we? A smidgen of angst, if you will.

Because this girl is tough, but God, she's a softie. She feels things so deeply. Maybe too deeply sometimes.

She's the kind of girl who'll squish a spider out of pure panic, one that got way too close to her head while she was minding her own business... and then she will sit with that guilt for the next three hours.

Not because she loves spiders. But because something died, and it didn't have to.

That's the kind of soul Abby has.

So how does she cope then, when something just doesn't pan out the way she hoped it would?

Poorly. Silently.

She doesn't talk about it, at all. Not for a while, anyway.

People around her know something is off. She lingers longer between sets and she hits harder during sparring matches. Suddenly, she's training like she's trying to burn something out of her memory but it's stuck inside her body.

Lev asks once. She only shakes her head.

Just tired.

She doesn't sleep much. She lays down and closes her eyes but it's restless. She'll get up again and pace. Hit a few pushups. The music she listens to is an audible bruise, one after the other and it lives in her ribs. But she reaches for it. Picks up a book or two. Puts them back down.

She keeps the string of text messages. Letters neatly folded in her drawer. A few photos. She can't bring herself to look at them but she doesn't throw them away either.

Eventually she breaks, and stares at them for longer than she'd like to admit.

She tells herself she's fine. Keeps busy. It wasn't that serious. We're both better off.

And then she hears their humor in someone else's voice and has to leave the room.

She channels every ounce of her ache into caring for others, maybe a patrol partner or a friend. Loving someone without the risk of vulnerability feels manageable for her in the moment.

Eventually, she lets herself cry it out.

Healing comes slowly, as everything with Abby tends to. She's not the girl to post thirst traps for attention and validation and there's no way she entertains a one night stand or filling the void with someone else.

Not when she knows it will only make it worse.

But she does start to lean on the people who love her most, even if she doesn't come out and say it.

The shift happens in small bursts.

Lev leaves a little terracotta pot on the windowsill with a packet of seeds inside. He shrugs and they don't talk about it much. But she checks it every single morning. Adjusts the blinds, giving it better access to sunlight. Pays attention to the water levels. And when the first sprout comes up... she stares at it for a long time, like it means something real.

Because it does.

It really does.

[windssong]

ghosts in the leaves // worst wolverine x reader

summary: you’ve been stuck in the void for years, and logan doesn’t even seem to care.

one shot: ANGST, then fluff of course. I love a sadass story with a happy ending. swearing lol. suggestive material. This is my favorite one I’ve written so far. Enjoy!!

word count: 1k+

masterlist

He was too busy drinking to notice your silent pleading.

You and Logan sat against the rocky wall of your hideout base. The rest of the group of forgotten heroes were planning the final showdown with Cassandra in the next room over.

They left the two of you alone, noticing the tension growing more and more intense. Logan tried to protest, but they shut him out. He wouldn’t stop grumbling to himself about it. That, you noted, hadn’t changed about him.

Wade would occasionally poke his head out from behind the wall, hoping the reunited couple would get back together already. He loved jumping into other peoples business, you noticed. He seemed like a troublemaker.

Johnny would’ve really loved this guy.

You still didn’t understand why Logan was refusing to talk to you. He looked like hell, but so did you. Did he even care?

You just wanted to wipe the blood from his suit and the dirt from his face. Tell him about the hell you’ve been through down here. Ask him about the hell he’s been through back home.

But Logan would rather gargle piss than talk to you at all. That, you were beginning to realize.

He wouldn’t even look you in the eye. He only looked at you when he first arrived. That familiar glow returned to him at that moment. You thought you saw the love of your life return to you right then and there, eyes and mouth wide open. But by the time you ran over to him, throwing your arms around his body, tears streaming down your face, he was pushing you off him and opening a bottle of bourbon.

You could see him fighting the urge to open another one. He balanced it on his hand, and spun the bottle on the floor like it was a game. Guess he won by the fake smile on his face as he placed the lukewarm drink to his lips.

“Are you going to talk to me? Or are you just going to keep drinking?”

He picked up another glass after downing the last one, licking his lips. “I don’t talk to ghosts.”

Your stomach dropped, like a stone in a pond. Your lips fell, a weight dragging them down. “Logan-”

His fists balled up, face turning red. “Don’t fucking say my name.” All the venom leaking from his mouth seemed to form a weapon meant for himself, but he kept aiming it straight at you. “Just don't.”

You held your head high. “Why not?”

“Because,” he took a long drink before continuing. “Your voice is drilling into my skull, that’s why. I don’t talk to ghosts and they don’t talk to me.” Logan shifted his body, facing away from you.

You closed your mouth, letting the words die inside. Instead, you watched the leaves fall from beside the open door.

The trees here never changed. They were stuck in a perpetual autumn. It was haunting to look at. You forgot there were other seasons sometimes. You missed the snow in winter. Icicles hanging from the roof of Xavier’s mansion. You missed the spring flowers and that early summer rain. All you had was autumn, and Logan had the rest. He didn’t seem to like any of it at all anymore.

The Logan you once knew and loved, if he saw you alive and well, he’d come running to you, holding you tight, whispering words of comfort.

This Logan though…He was tired. And angry. So angry. Grief radiated off every inch of him. It almost became a superpower on its own. You weren’t a stranger to that power. He kept you at a distance too, back when you first met.

You had the outline of his back memorized like the back of your hand. This was your Logan. He was just jaded now. Years of believing that you were dead and that he had failed not only his friends and family, but you, the most important person in the world to him, had changed him.

Down here, your one goal was to reach him. Well, you had accomplished that. But not in the way you had wished.

“If there’s any ghosts here, it’s you.” You said it without looking at him either. Just watched the leaves fall.

Logan shut his eyes tight, the veins in his neck growing stronger. His jaw loosened, the bourbon missing his mouth and spilling all over. “Fuck!” He cursed himself.

“Did someone wet the bed again?” Wade's red head popped its way into the room. “Jesus, you two look like you fucked with the lights off. Does this place even have lights? And have you made up yet? I’m sick and tired of this meeting and I wanna join in.”

He sure knew how to make an entrance. It was almost amazing how annoying he was. Again, Johnny and him would’ve gotten along. But Cassandra got to him first.

“Turn around and walk back in there before I pop that tomato of a fucking head of yours.” Logan spat, taking another swig.

Wade gasped, putting his gloved hand to his mouth. “I’d let you pop just about anything, Wolverine.” Before he could say anything more intrusive, Blade's hand grabbed his head, pulling him back behind the wall. Wade still kept ranting all the way back into the other room.

“I’m glad you have a friend.” You tried, shifting uncomfortably in your super suit. “I wouldn’t of made it if it wasn’t for my friends down here.”

And the thought of you. You wanted to finish with that.

“He’s not my friend.”

“Seems like he’s your friend.”

He shook his head, leaning against a rocky pillar. He wanted to keep the distance between you and him as far as possible. You were going to keep running towards him anyways.

“As soon as I arrived it was too late.” You started. “They were all dead.” You paused, letting the grief settle in. Logan sat there as still as a ghost. “I was going to find you before you found them. I'm so sorry you had to see them like that.” You let the tears flow this time. “But then the TVA- they got me. Said I killed one of their own a few days prior. Which is bullshit. But they didn’t care, and they sent me here. I’ve been trying to get back to you ever since. I'm sorry, Logan.”

It happened as quickly as he drank those bottles. He got up, wobbled a bit as he stood, and walked out the door, crushing autumn leaves under his feet.

The silence he left behind was worse than his venom.

Wade popped his head back in, the other four following as well. “We did it! Operation, Stealing Cassandra’s Wii hidden underneath their bed, is underway!”

“What’s under Cassandra’s bed?” Elektra questioned.

“Oh, all kinds of stuff.” He started counting on his fingers. “Video games, velveeta cheese, a bunch of those for some reason. Cowboy hats, pixie sticks, a signed dvd of The Green Lantern. Truly an evil monster, my god.”

Gambit leaned over to Laura. “Do you think one of my missing cards could be hidden under there?”

Laura ignored him, walking over to you, noticing your wet, red eyes. “Hey, are you okay? Where’s Logan?”

“I’d like to know the answer to that question too, Laura.”

Logan’s daughter nodded, squeezing your shoulder before going to look for the shadow of her father.

It was growing dark now. Night was here and all you wanted was to sleep. Maybe you’d wake up in Logan’s arms again and he’d pepper light kisses across your face, taking all those years without him away. Like they never even happened. Like you never lost anything or anyone.

It was still night out when you woke up. Wade's snores were keeping everyone else up, so they moved him outside. You walked by him as he was passed out in a pile of leaves, making your way towards the burning campfire.

Logan sat slumped over the smoke, chin cradled to his chest. You could’ve sworn you saw tears disappearing into the fire. But you didn’t want his dagger like words again, so you turned back around.

And then you heard your name.

It was whispered so softly, like a strong wind. You waited a few more beats, hoping to hear it again. And you did. His voice was strained. Calloused over like he had said your name so many times before that it hurt so bad every time you never said his name back.

But you did this time.

“Yes, Logan?”

“I was just thinking-” His voice was wavering, like he was on a tightrope, wondering when he’d fall off. “I was thinking about your birthday. I’ve missed so many of them.”

Your eyes glazed over, a well of spring water washing away the autumn you still adored. Before you could run to him, he was already there. Strong arms found their way around you. Those lips kissed every inch of your face. It was like returning home again.

“I’m so fucking sorry.” He was barely keeping it together. “I thought you were dead. And then I saw you and all I saw was another failure. I’ve failed you. You’ve been trapped here. And I didn't come to save you. All I did was punish you.”

“It’s okay.” You held him tight, but he held you tighter. “You didn’t know. You had to go on thinking everyone you loved was dead. Logan, you didn’t deserve that.”

He held your head, finally meeting your eyes with his own. “I love you.” He rarely said it. But he didn’t have to. You always knew. “And I’m sorry.”

“I love you too.”

“I’ll be sorry forever.”

“Then I will be too.”

A mix of sorrow and happiness clung to his face. He laughed, as if he was laughing for the first time. “You’re here. You’re not a ghost. I’m not a ghost.”

[mitfloya]

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐃𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐒𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬: 𝐙𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞

pairings. Zayne x gn!reader

wc. 7K (yes, I like to torture myself)

synopsis. He was believed to be devoid of emotions, until you unveils his chilling secret. His hidden obsession with you has ensnared you in his icy sanctuary. You were blind to his fixation until it was too late, and now you find yourself trapped in his clutches, unable to escape.

warnings. The following content contains elements of obsessive behavior, yandere thoughts, stalking, possessive behavior, and may include poorly written narratives. Reader is referred to as 'you'. Proceed with caution, as this writing may be unsettling or uncomfortable for some individuals.

a/n. Hello people of the internet! I’m pretty new on this writing community so I hope I bring you guys some good crumbs to munch on! and excuse my horrible grammatical errors, English is not my first language. I may or may not have spend my time throwing up this whole ass detailed (press x to doubt) HC out of my mind, I tend to go overboard with my analysis and writing. Get some snacks and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy making this HC.

p.s. this is a reupload ver. the original of the post is accidently deleted

♡ Please reblog and comment on this post are much, much appreciated ♡

Ah…the ice king himself, known for his emotional detachment and seemingly heartless demeanor. His motives and intentions remain shrouded in mystery, as he builds impenetrable walls around himself. Yet, somehow, you managed to slip through those barriers, like a delicate flower pushing through the cracks in concrete, planting the seed of love without his knowledge.

Does he act upon it? Certainly not at first. He ignores it. Pretend that is was merely a sign you were someone he tolerated.

His acts of kindness are always subtle and unexpected. He treats you in a way that evokes certain reactions.

At first, he might seem out of reach. But you never know that he is always there for you. Always observing and studying your responses.

As you both transition into adulthood, he becomes your primary physician, a role that only intensifies his growing obsession with you. He never considered himself capable of falling in love at first sight, but his feelings for you gradually took root. He is always there with you, from childhood and in adulthood. Fate must have bestowed him with great luck to be your guardian, the one who monitors your health and controls your existence.

The time when you both went on your separate ways before you met again, he feels a void, a sense that something is missing. Maybe you meant more than he thought. The loss of you kills him. But does this heavy feeling affect his daily activities? no.

The thought of not knowing about your health and safety gnaws at him, like a splinter lodged in his mind. Have you eaten yet? Did you eat enough? Did you get enough sleep? Did you stumble upon an accident? Just a single scratch of wound on your skin would infuriate him.

You, on the other hand, dismiss it as the instinctual concern of a physician, and your own health condition made it even more difficult for him to let you go. You were far too precious to be released or, worse, left alone and broken.

Even when you’re away on your mission, he always ask about your being and whereabouts. He just wanted to know how you’re doing and it shows how much he cares for you, not monitoring you! That’s ridiculous, right?

However, whenever you were around him, you never felt like you were in control of your own bodily autonomy. Maybe you’re seeing things but have you realize how much you’re changing your lifestyle?

Zayne intelligence is no joke. You were far too naive to look back over your shoulder to notice he is manipulating you. He wants you to be completely dependent on him. But is it really that bad? After all, he was providing you with a healthier lifestyle, not to mention preserving your beauty. Or so it seemed.

Oh, but when you became his, everything changed. He became more open, more loving and caring, the kind that makes you melt to the ground and swallow you whole. Always attentive to your needs and wants, he has no problem with you buying expensive items, the money isn’t his concern. Your happiness is.

His actions become more evident, sometimes you notice it in the way he always makes sure you’re fully geared up and energized for the day, or the way he tries his best to brighten up your day in rainy days.

And when the time came for you to move in together, almost imperceptibly, it felt natural, that’s when he brings the real authenticity of himself, the carnal desire to claim over you starts to show.

He adorned you with the finest fabrics, adorned you with the most exquisite gems and jewelry that accentuated your beauty without overshadowing it. He always gives you the best and never less.

No one would question how many pictures he has of you around the house, as they simply depicted a man deeply in love with his partner…wait, you don’t remember taking this picture..how did he get this picture? 

Caleb gives it to him. As always he has answers to everything, it makes you think he is expecting that kind of question, which is an odd behavior.

Even the windowsill display those seals and trinkets he has given you over the years, customized to your liking.

You saw it as a preservation of memories and the time he had spent with you, when it’s clearly a growing sign of obsession with the abundance of things of your own possessions, or things that reminded him of you were around the house, to the dark corners of his secret room you were unaware of. 

You don’t realize you were brainwashed, did you? Or maybe because he is telling the truth from the start, he loves you very much and his actions serve as undeniable proof!

Until you try to resist or argue with him. It would be best for you to stay obedient and let him lead, he is the man in the relationship, you are his good girl, right? He never wants to hurt you, he is doing it for the better sake of you.

You learned your lesson when you got your first punishment. Each mistake or letdown adds a droplet, gradually increasing the intensity. When the glass finally overflows, it serves as a stark warning to never hurt or disappoint him.

Your life revolves around him. You want to buy groceries? Wait until he finish work. You want to go to the park? Let’s go together and don’t forget your coat, he doesn’t want you to get cold. You want to have some time alone outside? Sure.

Ah, the innocence of those early stages of dating, when the idea of tracking your partner's whereabouts seemed endearing. Little did you know that innocent app you stumbled upon on a social media platform would become the chains that bind you. In the beginning, it seemed like a cute way to track the distance between you and your partner.

That app, like a digital spider's web, silently weaves its threads around your every move. From the moment you installed it, it became his watchful eye, tracking your every step, monitoring your every move.

How naive and compliant you are, unknowingly making it easier for him to watch over you. 

He doesn’t react much when a guy approaches you, no one will be brave enough, because you will always stay glued to his side. He often uses his sharp tongue to highlight their flaws and insecurities. Give them a judgmental stare at the guy as if he was nothing and brings nothing good in life like a mosquito.

Resorting to violence or criminal acts were never his first choice to get rid of those pesky nuisances, his jealousy always remains hidden and possibly close to nonexistent.

Because he knows, you will always comes running back to him. Even if you manage to slip from his grasp, he holds the power to reclaim you, by any means necessary. In dire circumstances, he does not hesitate to resort to violence, to eliminate anyone who dares to steal you away. He doesn't care if he has to hurt you or isolate you, nobody could ever love you like he did. 

Once you are married and start a family together, your life will be forever intertwined with his. That's the end of you or maybe a better version of you that you never envisioned or hoped for, nevertheless it was all because of your love for Zayne that you willingly let him take control, it’s the best life you could ever live in, right?

You will never leave out of his sight forever.

© 2024 mitfloya — all rights reserved. kindly refrain from altering, translating, or repost my works on any platform without my consent, do not claim my content as yours.

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 21

part 1 | part 20 | ao3

“Right?” Steve asks, scratching his head as he glances back at the door. 

“No, I meant you, dingus! What the fuck was that with you?” 

Steve feels his face go hot. “What? What do you mean?” 

She throws her hands in the air, stomping over so she can get in his face and say, “Don’t ‘what do you mean’ me. Your faces” —she lifts her hands like she’s about to applaud, palms hovering an inch apart— “were like thiiis close to just…”

She claps them together, and Steve feels the blood drain right back out of his face, dread pooling in his gut as she twists her palms this way and that, like two people tilting their heads to kiss deeper. Oh, god. Oh, god. Were they—? 

“Mwah,” Robin says helpfully, mashing her hands more tightly together. “Mwah mwah mwah mwah—”  

Steve grabs her by the wrist. “Dude. Stop.” 

She drops her hands and stares at him — one of those Detective Buckley looks, combing over every inch of his soul for missed clues — and then her mouth does some horribly self-satisfied thing that he hates. “If I didn’t know any better,” she draws, “I’d say someone has a crush.” 

I’d say someone has a crush someone has a crush someone has a crush someone has a

Steve’s gonna pass out. The words feel like bile in his brain, acidic and sharp; like puking right after chugging a glass of orange juice. It’s not like he’s— 

Look, he knows that he’s— but—

The bell dings. Thank fucking Christ. A big family group, three generations of people talking and laughing and fussing over a baby in a stroller and carrying leftovers from the Italian place down the strip. 

Steve sags in relief. 

Robin hisses in his ear, “We are so not done talking about this.”

—

He doesn’t want to talk about it.

About Eddie, about the word Robin lobbed at him like a lit bottle rocket, about any of it.

Just thinking about it is giving him a stomach ulcer and a migraine and maybe an aneurysm, too. 

He was hoping he made that obvious enough during the last hour of their shift that Robin would just drop it, but that girl has never dropped a single thing in her life. Worse than Nancy, the little bloodhound. Steve saw this documentary once about crocodiles; remembers how they can lock their jaws shut after clamping down on their prey with up to 4000 PSI of pressure. 

That’s enough pressure to cut a person’s arm off with a jet of water. 

Damn, nature’s cool.

“Steve!” 

You know who’s not cool? 

“Steve!” Robin hollers again over the song he’s currently blasting to drown her out on the drive home. “Steve, you can’t use ABBA against me like this!”

Steve ignores her protests, responds by shout-singing “DIGGING THE DANCING QUEEN, OOH OOOOOH” at her in his most nasal falsetto because he absolutely can and will use ABBA against her like this, and it works like a charm. He’s pretty sure this song has, like, hypnotic power over her or something, because every time without fail she gives the answering “ooh-oo-oo-ooh-ooh-oooooh” as if on auto-pilot.

“HEY!” she shouts when she realizes what she’s doing. “No sir!” She reaches over and mashes the volume button. 

Silence falls over the car. Sucks the air out of Steve’s lungs in the sudden void; his ears adjust slowly, picking up the quiet thrum of the engine, the whispered whoosh of the wind outside. Is he ever going to get used to being kind-of-sort-of-deaf? This shit sucks.

“...Okay, look,” Robin says tentatively. She’s staring at the side of his head, and he keeps his eyes on the road; tightens his grip on the wheel. “We don’t have to talk about you, okay?”

“There’s nothing to talk about with me.”

“Right!” she rushes to agree. Playing along like they don’t both know that’s bullshit. “Totally.”

Steve risks a glance at her. Her expression is earnest, some full-paragraph silent communication like: whatever bathroom-floor-confessional crisis you’re having, we can leave it alone for now. We can let it stay hidden in the dark corners for a little longer; I promise I’ll put my flashlight down. 

“Totally,” Steve echoes, nodding at her. 

“Okay. Cool. Cool…”

She lets out a long breath, cheeks puffing out as she sits on her hands. Oh, my god, just spit it out. “Can we please talk about him, though?”

—

part 22

tag list pt. 1 below the cut, comment if you want me to tag you tomorrow (heads up i'm not tagging any new under 21 or ageless blogs unless we’re mutuals or you dm me to verify your age. gonna purge this list when i get some free time)

@heartsong18 @hellion-child @hiimlevi @hotluncheddie @jackiemonroe5512 @jaytriesstuff @littlebluejane @lololol-1234 @marklee-blackmore @melonmochi @messrs-weasley @mrsjellymunson @mugloversonly @nburkhardt @nerdyglassescheeseychick @noodle-shenaniganery @notsopersonalcharlie @novelnovella @nuggies4life @pending-dope-username @perseus-notjackson @ppunkpuppyy @questionablequeeries @remosdeerica @runninriot @sadcanadianwinter @shamelesspatrolshepherdcowboy @silver-snaffles @singmeyoursimpsong @slowandsteddie @slutforcoffein @solalasoforth @spookednsaucy @steddieas-shegoes @steddie-island @stevesbipanic @steves-strapcollection @taleah-bonnick @teatimeeverybody @th30ra3k3n @thealwithnoname @thespaceantwhowrites @thestarslittleking @thesuninyaface @trensu @violetsteve @wormdebut @yourmom-isgay @zoeweee @zombiecreatures

[lizardkingeliot]

Who wants to read an entire ~600 word scene from the upcoming sequel to my Loustat reunion fic? Because I'm 12k-deep into writing this thing and I'm getting so antsy to get it out into the world already but it's not even close to being done and I could perhaps use a bit of cheerleading so I'm just gonna drop said scene here lol...

Putting most of this under a cut I hope you all enjoy Louis and Lestat bickering about home decor. 🥰

—

The sun had only just set but they’d already been up for an hour. They were standing in the living room on the rug that had been delivered while they were sleeping. The thick pile soft and plush against Louis’ bare feet. Lestat was splitting his time between frowning down at it and frowning over at Louis.

“This won’t do, mon cher. It’s too…” He gestured airily with one hand, sharp nails gleaming in the artificial light. “French country. Were we not going for coastal?” “I’m gonna ban you from watching those home reno shows on the iPad if you don’t—” Louis drew a breath and fought the urge to roll his eyes. “Thought you hated coastal.”

Lestat hummed, tipped his head to one side, scowled down at the rug. “Even so, is it not the aesthetic we are striving for here in our coastal home?”

“You picked out the rug, Lestat. You—”

“It looked different in the online pictures, cheri.”

“Buy another one, then.”

Louis sighed with his whole chest. He didn’t care about the rugs or the curtains or the lamps. Not really. Though he was starting to get antsy about picking art for the walls. Had been itching to pull pieces from his collection since the first night the realtor sent him the listing. As soon as Lestat decided to stop being difficult on purpose, he could make it work. Lestat let out a sound. Tiniest hint of a growl in his throat. Louis watched him gazing down at their bare feet nestled into the pile. “We need to find a proper boutique. Better yet an auction house. Why are we scouring web pages on an iPad for pieces for our home?”

“Easier that way,” Louis said with a shrug. There was an ache in his stomach he couldn’t give a name to. “We can always just hire someone to do this shit for us, Lestat. I know designers, decorators. Artists. I can call some people—”

“You don’t care about our home.”

Louis’ stomach twisted itself into a knot so quickly it nearly doubled him over. “What the fuck—” He couldn’t help it when the words flew out of his mouth. Seriously—what the fuck. “Why would you say somethin’ like that to me, Lestat?”

Lestat set his eyes on Louis. The set of his jawline was hard and tense. He had that look in his eyes like a cat about to do something very, very stupid. “You cared so much back at Rue Royale. Firm opinions on every piece of furniture. The art on every wall—" “I got art lined up. You know that. You know I’m gonna handle the—” “Do you remember that lamp you hated? Wanted to throw it in the incinerator the moment I—" “Don’t see what point you’re tryin’ to—” “dared to bring it home to replace the one—” “I don’t remember the lamp. I remember you—" “that had been badly damaged—" “being impossible about everything exactly the way you are—” “when we knocked it from the table—” “right now.” “making love. And I—” “Lestat!” “Louis.” Louis drew a long deep breath and huffed it out. The tension in his chest abated just a little, just enough. “I don’t remember the lamp,” he said. And clenched his jaw. And shook his head. Lestat was gazing at Louis with wide eyes that didn’t blink. The centers of them huge black voids Louis could have tumbled down into in seconds. He leaned close. So close the ends of their noses brushed together. “How convenient for you,” he growled, one corner of his mouth twitching up. Louis growled back, showed his teeth, tiniest hint of his fangs poking out. “You’re insufferable, you know that.” He reached forward at once and let his mind go dark. Took Lestat by the hair with both hands. And crashed their mouths together.

[girl-lostconnection]

no lol theres a misunderstanding, i meant a more fantasy/universe creating theme (fruit bats, hellrider etc) stuff, and i didnt mean it to be backhanded, like you get more interactions on posts now which is naturally a good thing- i wanted to ask if it has impact on your mood/happiness as well

Oh, I see. Yeah, I do get a little more traction nowadays. But I honestly always more happy to have someone to chat about the work rather than the amount of likes it gets.

I meant it in a way that I am really chatty naturally and my main way to connect with people is to talk with them about stuff that excites me.

I think that’s why I was so happy about my first Graves anon and the first commenters I got, shout out to @sundaescreamcheese and Ana, they were there when it all was just getting started.

For example there are posts that didn’t get that much attention but I was very content because someone asked about them or commented or I just got a chance to talk about them. (Thank you @jesterinc for feeding into my every brainworm about Helldivers and mecha AU and body horror and Helldiver marriage and—)

I like when people actually come to chat or comment something because I can see the reaction and when I’m lucky and the feedback is detailed, I can see the thought process behind it and that’s really exciting. (Thank you, Seal Anon, you honestly revived me at some point. So imagine I’m throwing you many flowers)

Also it did allow me to cross paths with some really talented writers whose work I was reading before I even started this whole blog and now I talk with them about slutty Simon or knight memes or Ali Hazelwood. (Thank you to @nightunite for many many things, @beloveds-embrace for being this cool and @certainpeachsweets for reading the drafts of Rust in Pieces and getting through my purple prose)

That’s something that happened thanks to my grown reach and me using every bit of my audacious thinking and hopping into people’s DMs like “hiiiii, hello, sorry to bother you but [insert reason for bothering]*.

It doesn’t feel like throwing it in the void when you get a chance to interact with your Readers, that may be my favourite part about sharing my writing.

I do remember most of my ‘regulars’ if I can call them this way, since I do see them fairly often. Tbh if you asked I could probably say which person favours which works of mine specifically depending on type of content on mine they engage with (and not to be cocky, but I do have a certain range to it).

So yeah, overall I’m really content with the way things are going, I do like the audience and I absolutely adore my regulars who come back to chat or just read another thing of mine. It’s nice knowing I’m worth coming back.

Anyway, thank you for clarification and I hope you have a good one, anon!

[frotees-corner]

Thursday bangers | 4-24

Tagged by @jenn2d2, so you know who to blame ;) I'm in the process of writing another part right now and I just finished two artworks back-to-back, so you get a snippet of a WIP instead.

The prompt:

A hundred days have made me older, since the last time that I saw your pretty face - Three Doors Down

(Incidentally, I really like 3 Doors Down) Pieces (WIP, Snippet):

Five days after she disappeared, he gave up. There was a limit to how long a person could survive without food and water, and Rook was no ancient, immortal quasi-god. She was just one fragile mortal woman who didn’t know when to stop.

But now she must have, and he would never see her again.

Wouldn’t even get a chance to say goodbye.

There was a void in his chest, pulling at his seams, unraveling him bit by bit.

He wasn’t entirely sure how he ended up in front of her door. Maybe Spite had brought him here, hoping she would be there when he opened it, like she had been every other time his human was being foolish.

But she was gone.

He opened the door anyway, feet moving of their own accord to take him deeper inside. The deep sea vista taking up most of the wall on the opposite side of the room held no terror anymore, he realized with a start. It couldn’t hurt him anymore.

His eyes fell on the little crow figurine with the gemstone eyes he’d gifted her, her little rook, positioned to watch over her sleep.

There were scrolls and carvings on the wall, mementos scattered over every surface of the room, little trinkets she had collected to remind her of what she’d seen and done. Evidence that she had been here, that she had lived beyond the boundaries set for her at birth.

He absentmindedly ran his fingers over the back of her couch, remembering the first time she had asked him to stay, the way she had curled up in his arms, happy and warm and safe.

There was a sound inside his heart, like the whine of a frozen lake being struck, brittle surface beginning to fracture.

And then he stepped around it, sitting down as he felt his legs beginning to give, and saw the letter on the little meditation table.

For Lucanis, it said in her lively script, letters pushed together and trying to break free as if scrawled down in a hurry. His fingers were shaking when he reached for it, carefully pulling a folded piece of paper from the slightly smudged envelope.

Lucanis,

maybe you’ll never read this. Maybe we will just beat the impossible odds again, and I’ll be able to tell you to your face.

But in case we don’t, in case something happens to me and I can’t, here are some things I need to tell you.

I love you.

I got the impression that you didn’t want to hear it earlier, but I do, and you deserve to know. So, I love you. You are loved. You deserve to be loved.

You are kind, and funny, and caring, and you deserve good things in your life. Like friends, real ones, not the kind that’s just looking for an opportunity to stab you in the back. You deserve to want things for yourself, things that make you happy, things that have nothing to do with your job.

I was honored to be one of these, for a little while.

And I don’t care if you’ve spent most of your life dealing out death, you deserve to live, too.

For yourself, and for the people who care for you. Even for Spite (hi buddy, please keep Lucanis from throwing himself off a cliff for me?).

Maybe tell your grandmother where she can shove it the next time she tries to push you into something you didn’t agree to.

I love you.

Ceres Mercar

He realized he was crying when the first heave drops hit the paper. By the time he finished her hastily written letter, he was shaking, bone-wracking sobs tearing through his chest, and he had to put her letter down lest he crumbled it.

He had known. Known that she had wanted to tell him, earlier, before everything went wrong, but he had panicked, again, had stopped her from saying it because he’d been afraid, and now he would never be able to say it back.

I love you, too.

He pressed his hands to his eyes, trying to stem the flood, but it was no use. There had been so much loss in his life. His parents, most of his family, Caterina (but she came back), Illario (but he’s not really gone), his home (but she saved that, didn’t she?), himself.

All of them he had survived, but right now, he felt like he was breaking, shattering into a million pieces.

[strawberri-elixir]

Sleepless nights

╰⇢ 29. I love you too (The original ending)

Warnings: none (unless you count a really long speech/confession as a warning)

note: this is the original ending that i had planned out from the very beginning (aka the ending i wanted more than the other before i got attached) but i’ll link the alternate ending at the bottom with the usual links when it’s done :]

“I…” You hesitated.

What was your answer? You never, in your entire life, imagined your little crushes would ever get this far. Let alone have both like you back.

But now, with everything that has gone down the past few months, you were faced with a difficult situation.

Yuta, the boy who’s been by your side before you could remember. And Toge, the one who single handily made the past few months arguably a lot better.

Both held a special place in your heart, one that would tear you apart if it was replaced with an empty void of their absence.

“I don’t know what to say…” You look down, already expecting to see disappointment if you met his eyes. “I just- I know it’s wrong but… I like you both. But I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings and break what we already have.”

But deep down, you already knew whose feelings you wanted to reciprocate. You just couldn’t admit it out loud.

“You should go to him then.” Your eyes flick up to meet his soft gaze.

It seems he knows your answer as well. You give him a small smile, pulling him into a tight hug before stepping back and running off to find a certain boy. But not before giving Toge one last glance.

Thank you.

You hurried down the hall, hoping to catch a glimpse of anything that would point you in the right direction. As you run up and down the aisles of the convention, you catch a familiar head of black hair headed towards the exit.

On the opposite side of the building.

"Yuta!" You let out a weak yell. The boy showed absolutely no signs of hearing your pitiful attempts at getting his attention, leaving you no choice but to sprint after him. “Wait!”

So you ran. Throwing out halfhearted apologies to the poor people passing by as you pushed through them. Truthfully, you didn’t care about the people around you, the only thing that was on your mind was the boy who was slipping through your fingers.

You broke through the crowds, exiting the main building and continuing your search for the boy. As your head shot side to side, trying to determine the direction of the boy, you catch a glimpse of Yuta, running out towards the parking lot.

He was about to leave you here.

“Yuta wait!” You slammed on the exit door and chased after him. As you inched closer, the dark-haired boy started slowing down, understanding that you weren’t going to stop.

When you finally reached him, you grabbed his hand. Your way of ensuring he stays in place as you catch your breath. "You were really gonna leave me here?" You gasped for air.

"I just assumed you would go home with Toge." The boy turned away from you but made no move to leave. "I'm sorry I ruined the confession, I thought you guys were done and-"

"Shut up." You held your other hand up. Yuta immediately stopped talking and turned to face you, his eyes reflecting the emotions that his body refused to displayed.

"You didn't even hear what I had to say."

"Well, I assumed that you would've accepted his confession...?" The boy looked confused.

"What- no- well-" Your brain was a mess and nothing was coming out right as you tried to form and explanation for him. Finally, you let out and exasperated sigh. "It's a long story. I don't want to discuss this in the middle of a parking lot."

Without saying anything else, Yuta grabs his helmet and tosses yours to you. "Let's go somewhere then."

You obliged, waiting for him to start up the engine before hopping on behind him.

“Ready?” He turned to you.

“Mhm.”

Before anything else could be said, the two of you sped off down the street. Back towards the same, nostalgic place the two of you grew familiar with. The park.

"So." Yuta sat in front of you as you sat in the middle of the empty field.

“It’s a long story.” You sigh.

“I’ve got all night.” He leans back onto his hands for support.

Fuck. There was absolutely no getting out of this. A short silence fills the air as you contemplate where to start. When you first started falling for him? Or maybe when you heard him confess his love for you when he thought nobody would hear.

“Well- so I may have had some sort of feelings for you for a while but just never realized it until recently when everyone just started getting closer and closer, right? But I swear to god that night when the four of us had that sleepover and I woke up to you hugging me and shit just did something to me and-”

You began talking at an alarming pace, wanting to get everything off your chest before you regret it.

“Oh! And when you told me you love me? Granted, it was indirectly. But I heard it, by the way, I couldn’t sleep again and overheard you talking. Anyways, I just couldn’t get it out of my head and Maki wasn’t much help either, so that’s on me.”

After what felt like forever, you finally took a break to breathe, glancing at Yuta, hoping to get a sense of what he was thinking. He looked… shocked, to say the least. But he didn’t say anything.

“So when Toge confessed, I’ll admit, I was really confused and didn’t know what to say. And I probably should’ve reacted sooner, but that’s beside the point. The point is, I like you too. Hell, I would probably go as far as to say I love you.”

You look at Yuta, looking for something, anything. After a few seconds, you were ready to crawl into a ditch and disappear. But before you could act on those impulsive thoughts, you felt a pair of hands hold your face. And then soft lips placing a kiss onto yours.

He kissed you. A soft, passionate kiss. One that you were quick to reciprocate, reaching up to hold his cheeks and keep him in place.

Before long, you both pulled away, desperately needing air. A warm flush filled your cheeks as you gazed longingly into each other’s eyes. You both had been waiting for this moment for so long.

“I love you.” Yuta suddenly blurted out. “A lot more than I ever thought was possible.”

Your eyes relax into a soft gaze. “I love you too.”

He couldn’t help but crack a smile, taking a hold of your hand and kissing it. You meant everything to him. “You have no idea how happy this makes me.”

A small chuckles escaped your lips. “Hopefully as happy as it’s making me.” You shift your body to lean on his shoulder, looking up at the dimming sky. The stars started making themselves visible as the moon settled into place.

It might’ve still been early on in the night, but you could already tell it was going to be one of those sleepless nights.

Masterlist | The alternate ending <3

ANOTHER NOTE: oh. my. god. we actually made it to end you guys! i just want to say thank you all so much for the support i’ve received throughout the duration of this journey! it really means a lot to me that so many people enjoyed this.

as sad as it is to see this series come to and end, i’m excited to get myself ready to make another series. and i hope you guys will enjoy that one as much as you enjoyed this one! thank you guys once again for making this series so fun to make and i hope to see you guys again for my next series!

taglist:

@sur-i-ki @aespaforlifersyall @camilo-uwu @butterflyqueen234 @shinsukeee @tanchosanke @meguemii @lees-chaotic-brain @you-always-made-me-blush @jayathelostdragon @chilichopsticks @polarbvnny

@frumira @sad-darksoul @hellyyy06 @rosieandthethorns @zellwa @iluv-ace @h3xi2g0n3 @morgyyyyyyy @bellaabee082 @koiir @g0rep1ty @k4romis @beaniedoodz @seventhcinema @macimcnaron @pumpkinisnotsane @wowowwin @neigee @someonethatisnobody @vndl-1 @yoyo-yui

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[mindl3sssoul]

Fluttering Love

“I don't feel lonely when I see her

Even my sad emotions dissapear far way, She's my fairy of shampoo

I will love you now”

་༘࿐Summary: where Yuuta unexpectedly falls in love with you, who illuminates his world and transforms his life with your presence.

✧this is based from the song fairy of shampoo by dosii!

Word count: 1.2k

Reader's gender is unspecified!

Chapter 1

Yuuta never hoped for that accident to happen. Seeing the lifeless body of the girl he had promised a whole future with at the only age of 11 made him wanna throw up. The metallic scent fills his mind, unable to process whatever happened right now.

He could only mumble her name in distress, tears finally building up, threatening to fall out. Her head bashed on the ground when the car strikes her. Lying on her own pool of blood, her navy dress tainted by the crimson red. The voices of people around yelling, one asking for help, calling for the ambulance, as if it's not too late.

He dared to utter her name once again, in a moment of silence Yuta's eyes widen, his breath hitching as he hears that terrifying voice. Desperate to find its source, he glances around him. "Rika-chan...?" he mumbled, barely audible. The world fading on his sight each second, threatened to be consumed by the darkness engulfing the place.

Everything went silent, he's in a void, lost and puzzled, then, he hears a voice.

"Yuutaaaa... we'll be together in the future, right..????" He heard the same high-pitched, distorted voice again. A figure emerges from the ground, it's head having a shell like structure looking a bit similar to brain, several tendrils connecting from the back of it, a mouth full of thin sharp teeth.

Yuta stumbles backwards, a cry escaping his lips as he sees the grotesque form rising from Rika's body. "W-What are you...?" he stammers, his heart pounding in his chest.

The monstrous form rose up beneath him, its hands tightened around his ankle, it's other hand reaching out to cover his face, he shut his eyes close in terror and tried to free his ankle from the large hand's grip.

Everything, went silent again.

A few chattering he hears again, everything slowly coming back to place, he blinked a few times, his vision still blurry, after a few seconds, he finally became conscious of everything around, he was zoning out. He blinked a few times, their words rang through his head a couple of times. looking at the person infront of him. It was his assigned deskmate.

How embarassing. A blush crept to his face from embarrassment, turning his head away in shame. Beads of sweat forming on his forehead, sliding out his red cheeks. His lips quivering, he still remember what happened earlier when he zoned out. Giving him chills.

Ever since that day happened, he would be always haunted by the after events of Rika's death. Which lead him to almost not eat or sleep, going as far as locking himself inside his room, even cutting everyone off. His mother would always check on him, but will just be met with silence and sobs.

"I'm [Last name] [Name], I'm gonna be your deskmate so uh pleasure to meet you."

You did it, you finally introduced yourself properly! Lost in your own thoughts, you were almost jumping out of success. You grinned to yourself, turning your head along with your gaze away proudly, crossing your arms. After a few seconds, maybe 25, you never heard any word or sound coming from him, only your teacher discussing infront and a few chatters at the back.

It took you awhile to decide whether if you should turn and ask him what he's on. Hesitating for a moment, You stare at the boy infront of you, he was staring almost right into your soul, damn, tilting your head in confusion, puzzled on why he's speechless infront of you.

Almost you can imagine a question mark above your head, you pondered, have you said something wrong? Is there anything wrong with your introduction? Or is he just mesmerized by you? Brows furrowed in concern, You hoped it was the third one but he got you almost shitting out with that stare, it was a little frightening but it doesn't bother you really much.

Couple minutes of silence passed, you finally decided to try and break him out of that state. You turned to him again, feeling nervous, you waved your hand infront of his face, analyzing him. There was something alluring on the dark circles under his eyes, and the way his dark blue irises shines like a sea illuminated by the pale moonlight at a breezy night. You find yourself eventually staring at his irises, lost in it.

You realized and shook your head, breaking out of it, you sighed and decided to ask him. "Hello..? Are you still with us..?" Questioning him quietly, your voice a mere whisper in order not to get catched talking loudly by your teacher. Genuinely concerned for the guy, you tapped his shoulders gently. Still after a few moments of silence, you sighed in defeat, grumbling to yourself as you rest your head on your palms.

You spare him a glance again, having no choice but focus your gaze at the boring whiteboard infront. But you know you have to take a second glance when you caught a glimpse of him blinking, turning your look back, he was not staring at you now, he had totally turned away, his slightly dishevelled hair covering the side of his face a little but you can see a faint scarlet on his cheeks.

He was zoning out for 4 minutes. "Mhm yeah.. he was definitely zoning out." You mumbled to yourself, giving a low huff before picking up your pen, clicking the top of it continuously. Bored seeped to you, hoping that somehow the class would be dismissed early.

You attempted to distract yourself by drawing various objects, just cats and stick figures, or attempt at spinning a pen with your fingers like what you always see on your social media main page, but you always end up dropping it or screwing up which makes you frustrated. So you just made simple origamis, like paper stars during the 3 subjects and each of them having 40 minutes of sessions. Yet even when you never usually listen to those lessons, you still manage to get passing scores which makes your classmates wonder how you get it.

You occasionally glanced at your deskmate who's either fumbling with his fingers or looking around the classroom, by also trying to be not noticeable. His head was down the entire time, turning left or right.

However, the moment he meets your eyes a second time, he becomes tense once again, looking frightened as if you were going to eat him alive. Even though you didn't really know the boy, there's something about him that makes you want to at least lend a hand. But that would be out of character, you thought.

So then, you just sighed quietly, leaning your back at the hard wooden chair, waiting for the class to end. After all, there's only 5 minutes left before recess.

Those slow 5 minutes of hell finally ended. your stomach is screaming inside you, it's big back ass wanting nothing but food again, but you always end up buying candies at the cafeteria which doesn't even satisfy your hunger enough.

You went back to your class, you don't see any more student inside except for him. Sitting all by himself, you didn't expect this but he was staring at your seat, not in some kind of weird way, but with melancholy and guilt. Feeling bad that he may have you feel uncomfortable when he was right there staring to your soul.

You moved forward, supposingly, you were approaching your seat, like as usual you do. But you find yourself standing before him, handing him a piece of candy you bought. Your hands were shaking mildly, hoping that he would take it sooner or it may fall from your hands due to your akwardness.

a/n: I'm so sorry for the slow ahh update! I have been busy with school lately so please be patient with me! T T, I'll try to update faster when I have free time!

🎐blue star divider by soulari!

[shashapato]

Willtresor Analysis

The shippers will be fed with these posts I have queued up. 😔🫶✨

Warning: This post will discuss the toxic nature of the ship, mostly based on my own experiences with people like Monty. The purpose of this post is not to glorify unhealthy relationships but to *understand* the ship better.

Also I am NOT a mental health specialist, just someone very interested in psychology. Apologies if the terms are not accurate.

-Analysis of Montresor’s Behaviour-

• Montresor is a lovebomber, like many manipulators and ab*sive partners are. I suspect the reason Will is so heads-over-heels in love is because in the maze, Montresor had been the first person, probably in a long while, to ever treat Will like he is *special*. He uses the first time they meet to give Will the impression he is a ‘good guy’.

Proof:

*Once Lenore asks him to name one nice thing Monty’s done for him and he couldn’t think of anything, Will reminds himself of when they first met because that’s probably the time Monty was nicest to him. So, yeah, he’s in deep denial.*

*And note the fact that Monty is reaching out for Will’s hand. That’ll be relevant for our next point.*

• Monty seems to use the push-pull method. Similar to when he manipulated Ada, he takes advantage of when Will is at his lowest to become this ‘God’, this ‘saviour’. Then, he takes it away completely (aka he treats Will like shit) and leaves Will desperate for more affection.

Proof:

*After the manor arc, Montresor lets Will take a nap on his arm despite throwing a fit about Will touching him a few episodes earlier thus, the perfect example of the push-pull method. After denying Will what he wants, he gives it, to remind Will who is in charge*

*Back to the hands part, I believe Monty has made physical contact their ‘currency’, which he will withdraw and give whenever it is convenient to keep Will in line.*

Adding onto that, second proof:

*Will’s love language is definitely touch. LOOK AT THAT HUG. Montresor knows this and this is why touch is their ‘currency’.*

• Though, I do suspect Montresor is actually touch averse from his trauma, so if the push-pull theory is incorrect, (and it could be because he doesn’t do it to Ada) it’ll mean he really just doesn’t know how to love. This gives Willtresor a chance to *blossom.*

*Yes, I will add it in every Willtresor post. See that Montresor is the one initiating contact? MHMHM.*

• Lastly, I wanna end this section off by saying BOTH of Montresor’s romantic relationships that are shown in the series are with women who he sees as ‘lesser’, much like how he sees Will. Therefore, I think Monty and Ada’s relationship is the same as or used to be what Willtresor has.

-Analysis of Will’s Behaviour-

• Will’s problem is possibly that he loves Montresor only for that one thing he did in the maze. He is in denial and keeps hanging onto the hope that his ab*ser might turn out to be that ‘good guy’ after all. Much like most Willtresor fans are hoping.

• If it’s not obvious enough, neither of them were truly ‘loved’ in their life and IT SHOWS!!! But both of them have very different ways to cope with this. While Montresor wants to have power over others and use their ‘devotion’ to fill the void, Will lands on the other side of the spectrum, trying to please everyone in an attempt to feel like *someone* cares for him even if they don’t.

Proof:

*Literally the entire series, so I don’t know what to put.*

• Also, just wanted to mention how pure Will’s love for Monty is and how easy Montresor, or anyone really, can manipulate this.

Proof:

*Two instances of Will looking at Monty. First one being when they are walking with Annabel’s group; he has no reason to look at him but yet he did by instinct. Shows how he has it fully engraved in his mind that Monty is his one and only real friend. 😭 Sweet, sure, but also SCARY AS HECK.*

*Not entirely relevant, but to keep this post light-hearted: Monty also seems to look at Will instinctively too.*

Next proof:

*He respects Montresor’s boundaries oml. Will, while drunk and panicked, stopped himself before touching Monty because he’d said earlier not to. HE IS A SWEETHEART AHHHHH.*

And also, Will being such a lovesick idiot led to:

Yup. That concludes my speech on why Will’s puppy love for Monty is freaking terrifying.

-Overall-

• There is a chance this ship will bring forth the greatest redemption arc ever for Monty, but also a chance it’ll lead to either one or both of their downfalls.

More theories on this will be posted when I’m free. When it is posted, I will link it here.

(Please, please, please like this post. 😭 I love writing theories lol. If y’all like it too, I can keep going.)