#to survive (1) single attempt at doing one

[reginrokkr]

One more day and the week will finally be here. I have an exam to do on Monday the theory to revise is the bare minimum and most of it relies of maths problems which, to my luck, I understand and do fine, so I'd dare to say that I'll be able to rest Friday and Saturday without a worry in the world. Furthermore, next week I'll have a long 5-day weekend starting from Wednesday, so all the more free time for me a bit before Christmas break!

[aurynsia]

Unrequited, Terrifying Chapter 1

James Potter x Reader

Summary: You had always been the sort to keep to yourself, never expecting any attention. That is until a mysterious letter is slipped under your door…

Warnings: Extremely fluffy, nervous!james x shy!reader, some subtle wolfstar action in the background, reader plays hard to get without intending to, idiots in love, oc!friends, lovesick!james x salty!reader, reader low key hates James at the begging but it’s for the plot I swear! No use of Y/N, reader is in the girls’ dorms but gender is rarely specified, NOT EDITED!

Word count: 1.4K

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

Summer shifted with a gust of wind, dragging with it the soft chill of the Scottish coast. The leaves turned from emerald to amber, marking the start of your final year at Hogwarts.

Gryffindor had instilled a sense of courage in you, one that you often left at home when returning to the brooding towers that form your school. So, with the brewing feeling of newfound bravery in your heart, you approached the Gryffindor common room with the mentality that this will be your year.

The crowded floor of the comforting common room was painted with school shoes and flashes of red as your fellow house members danced in a flurry of reunions and affections. Yeah…this will be your year. Once you figure out how to socialise without cringing from embarrassment.

You shifted past the cliques and gangs, attempting to find your more resolved group of companions. Standing on the stairs by the girls’ dorms was the sight you were hoping for.

“Charlie! Hope!” You called, striding over to your much loved roommates.

“I’m surprised you survived the stampede down there, come to safety!” Charlie joked with open arms, guiding you into a warm embrace.

“Seems like the summer didn’t do much for the maturity in this house…” Hope muttered into your shoulder as she joined the reunion, glancing at the chaos ensuing behind you.

Charlie and Hope were your personal lifelines, a combination of wits and humility that allowed you to embrace the more tentative side of yourself. You first bonded over your shock discoveries as Gryffindors, as opposed to your predicted places in Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff. While none of you were sure of why or how you found yourselves in the house of courage and bravery - or as you often called it, the pit of egos and self-righteousness - you certainly found a home between the pair, never stepping outside the social boundaries of your timid trio.

You marched towards the comfort of your dorm, arms linked with your companions and back turned to a pair of unacknowledged, watchful eyes, shaded by rounded glasses.

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

James often found hellos to be even harder than goodbyes, a swelling of tears and joy erupting from the boy’s face the second he laid his golden eyes on his mischievous friends. Sirius, Remus and Peter lined the couch territorially, leaving space in the middle for one James Potter to jump into in excited greeting.

“Prongs! We thought you’d never show!” Exclaimed Sirius in a lighthearted tone, smirking at the boy’s glowing grin. “Glad to see us, then?”

“Oh Pads, you know I’d never miss a single day with you by my side if I had the choice!” James met his friend’s playful tone, though his genuine affection shone through the string of words he praised. He found comfort against the back of the couch, bursting into a ramble of “how are you?”, “I missed you” and “what did you do over the summer?” which the other Marauders dutifully answered with similar excitement.

James was busy engaging with Sirius’ vengeful tale of redeeming himself through a series of pranks planned for the coming school year when he found himself glancing towards a familiar figure above the crowd. Your hair reflected the light of the room, almost as if an angel’s halo surrounded your head. Your face, lit up with familiarity at your friends’ embrace, caused a physical reaction from the boy as his lips parted. Had you gotten even more hauntingly beautiful since the last year? James didn’t think it was possib-

“Pro-ongs, I think it’s about time you made a move on that lovely little bird, don’t you?” Sirius sang, inching closer to the captivated face of his friend. A light dusting of peachy blush turned dark on his cheeks under the sudden attention. “I- what? W-who?” James laughed, though he knew full well that his friends had caught onto his not-so-little crush years ago.

“I mean, if she’s so distracting that you can’t even focus on one of the most engaging plots for revenge ever crafted by the master of mischief,” Sirius gestured to himself, “then I don’t see why you shouldn’t try for an actual conversation with her. Moony here was just agreeing with me before you arrived, weren’t you, sweet stuff?”

Sirius turned to the boy sitting on the other side of the young Potter as Remus nodded in reserved agreement. “I know you think she’d never go for a boy like you, James, but Sirius has a point.” Remus advised. James considered his friends’ logical conclusions, realising he should probably come to the same.

There’s not long left, Potter, he told himself. We’ll graduate and the only person you’ve ever really felt something for will be out of your grasp forever. It’s now or never. “Ok…ok, I’ll do it. This will be the year. This will be my year.” James responded, eyes still lingering on you as you walked towards your dorm, slowly shrinking in his line of sight. His friends cheered in satisfied agreement. This will be his year. The year he shares with you.

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

Unpacked trunks and flittering gossip filled your dorm room walls as you giggled with your loyal friends. “So…any chance one of you might pursue a love life for once?” Hope teased, despite her own lack of romantic involvement. Charlie let out a scoff, grinning her lopsided grin at Hope’s curiosity. “Certainly not in this house, but there might be a few lucky souls in the others who could try to keep up with me.” She laughed with you and Hope, basking in the joy that only you three could harvest from one another.

“Any boys catch your eye? Oh! Maybe any girls?” Hope turned the question to you as you hid a laugh behind your hand. “Some of these kids might as well just date themselves at this point! I mean, how can you love yourself that much and leave any room to love someone else?” You cried, exasperation shaping your tone. “Are we talking about who I think we’re talking ab-“ “OH you mean the Marauders!?” Charlie exclaimed, interrupting Hope’s more subtle approach to the subject.

“Of course I’m talking about those good for nothing clowns,” You responded, “They’re too preoccupied with themselves to even notice anyone else! On the last week of the last year, Sirius managed to shove me into a wall in the hallway without blinking an eye. He was too caught up in his own reflection in the polished floor to notice! Remus and Peter turn a blind eye to all the mischief their friends cause, and only if they themselves aren’t involved. And that boy, James Potter…” You continue your ranting, “it’s like there’s no thoughts behind that smug face of his! He bumped into me as we both attempted to exit through a classroom door at the same time, pushing my books out of my arms and onto the floor. I looked at him expectedly for some sort of sign to show he was apologetic, but he just stood and stared at me wide-eyed! That is, before he scurried away as if he was suddenly half his own size, looking like a rodent in an athlete’s body!”

Charlie and Hope shared a knowing look when you commented on the last Marauder’s appearance, communicating a silent assumption that you weren’t quite as annoyed with the head boy as you were confused. “I digress…” you concluded with a flushed expression. “If any boy in this house even attempts to approach me I should hope for his sake that he’s matured at a rate faster than the speed of light over the summer, otherwise he doesn’t stand a-“

Pshhh.

All eyes in the room turn towards the door. A light blue envelope with dark ink scribbled on the front sat patiently at the base of the door, having just been pushed below from a mysterious source on the other side.

“…chance.” You finished, curiosity propelling your trio towards the unfamiliar object. Labeled on the front, communicating with newfound clarity now that you had closed the distance between yourself and the letter, was a boyish, unpolished mark of your name. Quiet settled on the three of you for a moment. “OH. MY. GOD!” Charlie exclaimed, snatching the paper from the floor and sprinting towards your bed. “Hey, wait for me! I want to read it too!” Hope pursued your friend. Lastly, you rose from your position on the floor and slowly approached the bed as your friends eagerly ripped open the letter.

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

A/N: Thank you for reading! I intend on expanding this into a pretty fluffy series with James trying to win reader over ;) sorry for the slow chapter, it will get more eventful in future updates now that the context is established. Part 2 is up! Comment to be added to the taglist <3

[thethingswedotomorrow]

I love the Good Omens 'Night at Crowley's Flat' trope where after stopping the apocalypse in season 1, they go to Crowley's Flat and talk and kiss and fall in love and have a peaceful night, I do.

BUT

What if the night became 'The Night an Angel and a Demon Get Insanely Drunk and Teach Each Other How to Act'

Because honestly

They go to the flat, and ALL they know is they are going to have to swap themselves if they want to survive and finally be free from Heaven and Hell

But they have absolutely NO clue how to pull it off successfully

Sure, they know each other in and out.

Aziraphale has Crowley's eye color committed to memory (and also to paper, since Aziraphale spent 4-5 years in the late 80s trying to find a craft store in London that could help him do the color justice)

Crowley could find his angel in a crowd of millions (and not even just because only one single person in that crowd would be dressed in that ridiculous shade of tartan)

BUT they know they have to truly get this right, down to the exact detail.

So, naturally, they start by promptly opening the closest bottle of scotch that Crowley had available

Crowley was convinced this would be the easiest thing they've ever done

"Only you, Angel, would find a way to worry yourself to death AFTER stopping an apocalypse"

They begin with the easy part, switching corporations and clothing.

It was easy. Until Aziraphale realized he had to actually physically move in the very, very tight pants Crowley prefers.

The first three times he tries walking, he falls face down. And each time, realizes how it's equally hard to get back up again.

Not to mention that Crowley's corporation had learned that after 6000 years, it didn't really need all those vertebrae and bones since he never used them anyways

So now Aziraphale is just laying on the floor in terribly tight pants, very confused on how Crowley has managed all this time

(Crowley is also on the floor, having dropped there laughing after the 2nd attempt)

After they both get up (one much faster than the other) Crowley tries coaching the angel on how to walk like him

Until Crowley realizes he doesn't actually know how he walks, he just sort of wills himself forward and hopes his limbs keep up with him along the way

Eventually, after enough drinks, they settle on a technique called "Just pretend all your limbs are snakes. And you're a snake. Honestly, just as snake-y as you can manage, Angel."

Aziraphale, as difficult as this was for him, figures out that he may have gotten the easy side of this situation here. Crowley very much disagrees.

"Once an Angel, well, definitely not always an Angel, but close enough right?"

He very quickly realizes he may be wrong when Aziraphale asks Crowley to copy his walk

"Dear Lord Crowley, it cannot be that hard. You simply have to walk in a straight line"

It was indeed that hard.

Crowley has all his vertebrae now, but no knowledge of how they should be used

He tries to hold his hands behind his back and march forward, walking in what he thinks is probably, on some plane of reality, maybe a straight line

He's convinced that he's the perfect image of a stereotypical angel, head held high, an air of 'holier than thou' surrounding him

When Crowley asks Aziraphale, he only says, "Well, I suppose it will have to do for now."

Internally, Aziraphale thinks of the fact that Crowley looked identical to a bumbling penguin walking on ice.

When Crowly sits down, very pleased with himself for an impeccable performance ("As always, Angel. I've still got it." Aziraphale uncaps the vodka and drinks straight from the bottle, just staring into the distance.

He has just realized that their existence hinges on whether Crowley can figure out how to sit on a chair like a proper being with appendages and a spine.

And the odds are not in their favor, if they way the demon is sprawled out on the couch (reminding Aziraphale suddenly of a very well-done noodle, and suddenly he's starting to wonder if humans had the right idea with stress eating) is any indication

Crowley announces that he refuses to utter the words tickety boo, even if faced with destruction

"Honestly I think I'd rather have the holy water at that point" "Crowley." "I swear you just make sounds up sometimes, those aren't even real words"

4 bottles (and a very large order of takeout) later, they've got the act down well enough that it's starting to weird Crowley out

"Angel, seriously, enough with the nose. When have I ever done that with my nose? Exactly zero amount of times. I'm not a rabbit"

2 bottles later and Aziraphale has miracled Harry the Rabbit into the flat for a reason they can't quite remember

But they've got music playing from somewhere in the corner, and plenty of drinks, and the night goes on into the morning, and then they're sobering up and marching out for the most dramatic acting of their lives

And the world hasn't ended yet, so they'll probably be fine. Probably.

[compact-turtle]

Yandere Space Explorer X GN Reader PT 1

Concept: Yandere Space Explorer X GN Reader

Part One

Summary: Yandere Space Explorer crashes on an unknown planet. He's miserable until he meets you...

TW: Obsession, Possessiveness, Usual yandere behavior yk , brief mention of pregnancy

Words: 1.4K

-Yandere Space Explorer who gets stranded on a different planet. His aircraft crash landed in the middle of a thick canopy jungle. The gray communicator pad was damaged in the crash and his supplies are slowly dwindling. He’s sure that he’s gonna die on this foreign planet all alone. 

-His days are filled with endless sorrow and regret for taking on this mission. Of course, he understood the risks. He may never return, he could encounter a hostile entity, and so much more. However, he had always believed he would prevail and return home as a hero. 

-One night, he abandons his camp. There’s almost no food left and he’s struggling to find a reason to survive. It doesn’t help that he’s feeling paranoid lately. Almost as if there’s been a pair of eyes always watching him. He treks deeper into the canopy hoping to find something edible. The gigantic vegetation loomed over him with tangled tree vines tripping him at every turn.

-Shiny red berries call out to him in the corner of his eyes. They beckon him to have a small sample. Consumed by desperation, he stuffs the berries into his mouth. Bitterness explodes in his mouth but it’s not enough to stop him. He engulfs the berries like a pig eating feed. Red juice dyed his hands as continually shoves his mouth full. 

-A sharp pain hits him in the back of the head.

-Yandere Space Explorer who wakes up tied to a pole. His eyes take a moment to adjust as he studies his surroundings. It’s a modest wooden home decorated in ornate trinkets. There are potted plants everywhere with beads hung up on the wall. 

-Adrenaline pumps through his veins as he searches for his attacker. It feels like hours until a figure emerges from a doorway. 

-He examines the figure. They’re dressed in a green robe with a brown satchel tied around their waist. There’s nothing remarkable about them besides their bright pink eyecolor.The figure speaks to him but he can’t understand them. The words sound like eerie shrills to his ears. 

-Finally, the figure points to themself and repeats a single word multiple times. 

“Y/N”. 

-It takes a few moments for him to understand that they’re communicating their name. 

- “Orion” The space explorer says, pointing back to himself. 

-You nod in acknowledgement. He continually attempts to communicate but gives up. It’s clear that you don't quite understand his language. 

-For the next few days, you feed him odd fruits that taste sweet with a hinge of spiciness. You address the wound on his head and clean him up. Of course, he’s still tied up but beggars can’t complain. 

-Eventually, you do set him free. Yandere Space Explorer is cautious of you however you seem harmless enough. He’s spent the past few days studying your routine and habits.

-Your day consists mainly of foraging for food in the morning until noon.

-In the afternoon, you return to feed him and check up on him. After a bit, you leave to trek the jungle again. 

-During the evening, you come home to feed him a second time. You also spend the time preparing for tomorrow’s trip or relaxing. You'll make beaded items, sing small hymns or organize the small home.

-Not everyday is the same, sometimes you switch it up. However, you never forget to feed him. Yandere Space Explorer feels that you treat him something akin to a pet. When he’s good you reward him with some white flowers to eat, and when he displeases you, you sit in the corner and pout. 

-However, after he’s released, you allow him to join you on your daily adventure. Yandere Space Explorer writes in his journal every little action you do and your little quirks. He notices that you tend to stay clear of rectangular blue plants when foraging. You seem to point your nose in disgust when you see the plant. 

-Furthermore, he makes note of the cute little squeak you make when you find something that makes you happy. 

---

-After four years on this planet (at least according to his calculations), Yandere Space Explorer had come to terms with living here. He really enjoys the simple life here with you. Go out, forage, come home then rinse and repeat. 

-At first, he thought he’d grow tired of it but never actually did. Each day offered something new and unique. You’ve shown him waterfalls that flow upwards, flowers that sing, and creatures that seem older than time. 

-His favorite part though was your attention. The way you clung to him and refused to let go. Sometimes you’d accidentally scratch him with your sharp nails. You’d fret over him since you learned how weak humans were. Hurriedly, you would kiss his wound to make him feel better. He indulged in your attention like it was a newfound drug. 

-He also made notes on everything about your species. Everyday, he closely monitored you then would scribble pages about new discoveries. Your species was stronger, faster and more resilient to pain. However, a downfall was the lack of awareness and naivety (Maybe that was exclusive to you though?) Compared to humans, your species also contained an odd trait where regardless of gender, it was possible to conceive a child. You attempted to explain the biology however your language couldn’t properly translate over. 

-You’ve made tremendous progress learning his language in four years though. Naturally, you’re no master however your intelligence amazes him. It took him a while to comprehend your language. There were so many tones or certain shrill sounds he couldn't replicate.  

- “Ri, look!” You called out. 

-He turned around to see you holding something behind your back. You were giddy and full of joy like a child on their birthday. You couldn’t stop shaking in excitement for what he assumed was his present. 

“Hm?” 

“I fix it for you! I help!” 

-You placed a worn out rectangular box in his hands. It was crudely held together with a thick leaf wrapped around it. Multiple wires sticking out. Faint glows of a purple crystal shone beneath the ill fitting top. For a moment, the space explorer was confused. He wasn’t sure what you were showing him. Still, he didn’t want you to be disappointed by his reaction. Orion leaned down and kissed your cheek. 

“Thank you, dear. I’ll keep your present safe.” 

“NO! Look! I fix!” 

-You grabbed the box from his hand and began to fiddle with it. The box whirred to life with the sounds of different frequencies screeching. He was still so confused until he heard voices on the box. This was his communicator pad that was damaged in the crash landing. 

-A while back, you’d grown curious about his origins . You constantly asked questions about why he was here, where his home was and his friends. Finally, he took you to the damaged aircraft. He showed you the inside and all the mechanics. 

-You ran around observing everything, as he stood by and explained it all to you. You let out little squeaks as you collected multiple objects. Orion enjoyed watching how excited you were about everything. 

-However, he had no idea that you kept his communication pad. Hell, he didn’t even know that you could fix it. You were always intelligent but he couldn’t imagine that you’d repair the thing. 

-Were you tired of him? Why did you fix it? Why were you trying to send him away? Had he done something wrong to displease you? 

“Now you go home!” You said proudly smiling. 

“Dear, I don’t understand? Why would I go home? I have you here with me.” 

“But friends miss you! They tell me.” 

“Won’t you be sad if I go home?”

“Little sad. But Ri should go home! Friends will be happy to see you. When plane crash, I watch you. I see you cry. You miss friends.” 

“Would you go with me?” 

“No, this is my home.” 

-You acted out the plane crashing and crying with hand motions. Orion was tempted to laugh but the situation was serious. You had somehow made contact with a Space Explorer team and they were arriving here. 

-He imagined a million different scenarios in his head. Perhaps they’d capture you and then lock you up to study. You’d be forced to complete tests and be stuck in isolation. Maybe they’d abuse you. A sweet creature like you could never handle that type of treatment.

-Or even worse…

-You’d grow attached to someone else and leave him. 

-Orion forced those thoughts down. He had to focus on the current situation. Time was of the essence to fix this problem. 

“Do you know when they’re coming, dear?” 

“In three days! I remember.” 

-You smiled proudly waiting for some type of praise. Orion gently kissed the top of your head and whispered compliments in your ear. 

-Three days would have to be enough time to prepare.

[mr-ys-phantasma]

🌙 Moon Phases 🌙

Agatha Harkness X Fem!Reader

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Words: 1279

Chapter 2:

You stood there, watching at her for what felt like hours, but it was only a few seconds. Your mind was overtaken with thoughts, scenarios, and all kinds of answers you could give to Agatha.

The majority were a polite way to decline such an offer and simply go on with your life; putting a stop to the countless times you got hurt when she left you behind.

But the yearning to be in her present was still there. The need to try for once and walk down the path with her instead of watching her go alone. The chance that you might actually be able to do something more this time.

And the hope that when this is all over, you might find yourself pressed against her body; inhaling her intoxicating scent as she gently passed her fingers through your hair, whispering praises for your obedience.

In the end, you managed to extend your time and let your mind process it better; the imbalance between the two answers was making you go crazy.

"We barely survived it the last time" you said, bringing up your little adventure all those centuries ago.

Back then, both of you were young and easily influenced. You had persuaded a few other witches to join you on the quest, only for you and Agatha be from the only ones to make it to the end.

You were rewarded with what you both wanted, or at least Agatha did. You had joined because you wished to help her and to fill some darker part of your never-ending curiosity.

Yes, you did feel the change by the time you returned, and you knew something had changed, but it was not as drastic as it was to Agatha.

Your words picked up the boy's attention. "Wait, you also walked the road?" He questioned, allowing you for the very first time to hear his voice. "She was with you?" He asked next. This time, the question was directed at Agatha; who tried not to snap back at him running the moment.

"Yeah, she did. Now be quiet. Adults are speaking, " she told the boy, ignoring his hurt and upset expression.

Agatha did not like when people interrupted her, especially when she was doing her very best to be the winner of this discussion. In addition, she did not want the boy to start digging more; for there were certain things she would have much preferred to keep hidden.

The witch walked towards you, her steps slow and confident while her bright blue eyes never left yours. They were always so expressive, deep, and mesmerizing that you could stare at them for hours and never get tired of it.

"Come on, Sugar" Agatha said, her tone having a much sweeter tone than before as she came to a halt right in front of the desk, the wooden furniture being the only thing keeping you at distance... for now. "We made it through last time. You and I, no one could stop us. It will be like old times"

Agatha extended her hand, placing it on the wooden desk as she leaned slightly forward. Her head tilted to the side, giving a more taunting look that kept you fully focused on her.

Despite her sweet words and her attempt to win you over, you could see right through it; just like you could every single time. You had recently learnt of what happened to Agatha, losing the fight against the Scarlet Witch.

By the lack of blackness on her fingers and her extensive need to persuade you into joining, you realised it was all true. She was currently powerless and you knew that meant her time on earth was limited.

Your expression softened, and a deep sigh left your parted lips. "Who hunts you, Agatha?" You asked, your voice soft, and so was your gaze.

She held back the need to place your hand against her own, emotions fighting between them on what should prevail. Your hand ha extended faintly but did not dare to move further away, as if an invisible force kept it back.

For a moment, Agatha felt the need to scoff and lie. Hide the vulnerability behind sarcastic comments and a cocky attitude, like she always did.

Then, though, she saw the deep look you gave her. Despite the passing years, despite the many times you two took separate paths; your gaze for her did not change. It was always soft, caring, and warm; a guiding light in a very dark night.

You had always been her light, the guiding force in her life. You were always the one she went when she needed someone, even temporarily, and always could sense where to find you. Like the moon on the sky, somehow you were always visible to her; forever there, even when not physically present.

She heard your honesty, showing your vulnerability and the emotions you still had for her; alas at bay, but they were still there. Only she was truly blessed to witness all your sides.

From the rising tides that made you volatile and sensitive to the dark periods of the new moon that made you cold and apathetic. She truly loved you when you were in your Waxing Moon phase; where the fire of passion burnt so bright it was almost ethereal.

In the end, Agatha gave in. "The Salem Seven" she mumbled, glancing down for a moment.

Hearing that name made you realize how serious the situation was. You had helped Agatha and protected her in the past, though never from a threat of such scale.

However, that did not mean you would stop now.

You looked at the boy, who was trying to observe some dream catchers you had for sale and pretend he was not heavily invested in whatever you and Agatha seemed to have.

"Give me the adess, kid," you said, trying to hide how defeated you sounded.

One day, Agatha would be the death of you, but you could not help it.

Like the waters forced to obey the glowing moon, your emotions were not yours to control. The tranquil waters of your souls always responded to how close Agatha was with you, rising like a tide or calming down when she was top far away.

The kid seemed happy to hear that you would join them, choosing to keep any questions he had for later. He grabbed a piece of paper from his pocket, not once questioning how you knew he carried that peper on.

"There you go. I also wrote the time, " he said existed, coming to stand next to Agatha; whose eyes were always on you.

You took the paper gently from his hands, not failing to notice the black nail polish he had chosen to wear. You glanced at the paper for a moment and then at him before finally settling back to Agatha.

She offered a sweet smile and gently let her fingers caress your lower arm in an all too familiar and seductive way.

"You are a true angel, Sugar. I will see you soon, " she said and slowly dragged her hand away, never faling to notice how your hair stood on end just by the ghost touch she had graced you with.

You were always very sensitive to her physical touch, just as she was sensitive to your tempting voice; especially when you begged whispers in her eat in the middle of the night.

You watched them leave the shop, the paper still in your hands while you stood like a statue. You still questioned if you had made the right choice, but it was too late to turn back now.

Chapter 3

[ghostandsoap]

Every Scar Has a Story

⋆˙⟡⋆˙⟡⋆˙⟡⋆˙⟡

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Fem! “Gecko” Reader

Tags: Post-Smut (I’ll owe y’all one LOL). Domestic Ghost. Referenced child abuse. Past child abuse.  

Word Count: 3.0k

“What are you thinking about then?”

⋆˙⟡⋆˙⟡⋆˙⟡⋆˙⟡

A content sigh fell from Simon’s lips as he collapsed back onto the pillows on his bed. 

His grip on your waist loosened which allowed you to unstraddle him and join him on the mattress. He grinned at you as your naked body piled onto his. If he could relive this moment forever, he’d never complain. He could feel the rapid thumps of your heartbeat against his chest – a sign that you were pumped full of energy and adrenaline. The flat of one of his large hands trailed up and down the length of your back, a gentle motion as a way of relaxing you back to normal.

He had never experienced a moment more serene than the post-orgasm high. It was one he adored, and one that he loved to witness you in the middle of.

“You alright, love?” He took deep breaths in an attempt to settle his own body.

It was such a simple question, and one that he asked every time you made love. Simon knew that he wasn’t always the gentlest person on the planet, and he never wanted to unintentionally be too rough with you.

“Mmhm,” You hummed, looking up at him through glazed (yet satisfied) eyes. “Perfect.” 

That look.

It absolutely drove him wild in the best of ways. It sent a flush of warmth and desire over him every single time without fail. Simon couldn’t understand how someone as flawless and wonderful as you could ever even think of seeing him as worthy. 

He rolled you over to crash next to him, a smile appearing on his face when you giggled. He wrapped an arm around you to pull you in as close as possible, loving every second of having you pressed up against him. The two of you had “gone to bed” almost three hours ago, around 11:00 p.m. or so. You had fallen asleep within a few minutes, but Ghost (who had always struggled when it came to sleeping) stared at the ceiling of his bedroom, listening to your slow breathing as you slept. 

Ghost had gotten used to sleepless nights over the course of his life. It was when his mind was the busiest…when his mind was the loudest. He was patient on nights like this, the ones where he couldn’t mellow out enough to get some decent rest. As long as you were comfortable and safe, he could lie awake for as long as he needed to. But when you started to stir around 1:45 a.m., he couldn’t help but take the opportunity. 

It had happened a couple of times over the course of your relationship. Waking up just enough in the middle of the night to have sex and then both of you (or one of you, depending on the day) falling back asleep. He had nudged you awake when you had rustled in bed next to him, pestering you awake to kiss you as his sign of arousal. He didn’t feel too bad about waking you up. It’s not like you had ever complained about it.

“You gonna go back to sleep?” Simon asked, secretly hoping you’d stay awake with him, but not wanting you to if you wanted the rest.

“Only if you are.” 

“I don’t think that’s happening tonight, lovely.” He kissed your forehead.

“Can’t sleep?” You questioned.

“No,” He answered. “But I’m okay. Not tired.”

Simon had impeccable energy. He didn’t need sleep more often than not. It was impressive to most, envied by some. But he knew that most people wouldn’t want that trait if they knew that it was a survival skill that he had perfected over the years.

Sleeping meant being unaware. Being unaware meant being vulnerable to the world. Being vulnerable meant opening a door to danger. Simon had learned long ago that keeping that door closed was safest.

“I’m not tired either.” You sighed.

“You will be,” He returned. “Don’t wait up just for me.”

“I want to though.”

Simon’s heart did a leap. There was something so incredibly comforting about the thought of you doing something with or for him just because you wanted to.

Time at home was…bittersweet for Simon. He didn’t exactly love when he was sent home before going back out into the field again. He understood that it was necessary, not to mention mandatory. He knew that he needed some time at home, away from the hustle and bustle of Task Force 141. It was the only way to ensure that he could continue to go out with his team when they needed him. Simon Riley might’ve been a freak of nature, but even he needed his breaks.

Getting sent home meant a lot of quiet time for Simon. In years past, returning to his home front meant returning to an empty home with no one to share his space with. At certain points in his life, he would even admit that he preferred it that way. Simon wasn’t graced with complete self-isolation very often. His career didn’t exactly allow that. 

But as he got older (and maybe even just a little bit softer on the inside), the more and more he realized that flying solo isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. 

It was even harder to come home when he knew that meant being separated from you.

The first time that you and Simon were sent home to your respective stomping grounds, he severely underestimated the effect it would have on him. It was a short leave, shorter than the typical time that you were usually sent home for. He could manage a few months, no problem. Before he knew it, the two of you would be deployed back on a mission and it would be like no time had passed at all. Besides, he knew the two of you could text and call at any time. It wouldn’t be that different. 

Oh, but how wrong he was.

Almost four weeks into the three month leave, Simon was practically begging you to come see him. He had found that his apartment felt unbearably lonely, and not being able to see you whenever he wanted to was torture. He felt anxious that he couldn’t be with you in person. He didn’t care how he had to get you there, but he needed to get it done. Sure enough, you were on his doorstep two days after he called you in a near meltdown, with enough belongings packed to get you through the rest of the three month period.

Simon’s mood had drastically improved following your arrival. As a matter of fact, he didn’t realize just how worse off he was without you. Fast forward to one month after your arrival, and with one more month left before the two of you were set to return, Simon had definitely gotten used to having you around.

“What do you think Johnny’s doing right now?” Simon suddenly asked, which made you raise a brow.

“I don’t know,” You laughed. “Why do you ask?”

“He does some odd stuff on leave. I was wondering what kind of stories we’ll get to hear when we go back.” Simon clarified.

“Who knows. It’s Soap,” You snorted. “I’m not exactly thinking about Soap at the moment.”

“Oh, yeah?” He purred, his fingers running through your hair. “What are you thinking about then?”

“You.”

Simon twitched when he felt the feather-like touch of your index fingertip trailing along the bone of his collar. It tickled him, and he hadn’t been expecting it. You were lovingly caressing him, staring at him with adoration. Simon had gotten used to you doing frivolous things like that. It freaked him out in the beginning, because he wasn’t used to someone doing an act of affection just because they felt like it. 

You were following along the path of the scar that was on his collarbone. It was about three inches wide or so, and even though it had faded over time, it was still clear even in the barely lit bedroom.

“What is this one from?” You asked, propping up on your elbow to get a better look at it.

This one.

Simon almost laughed at the wording of your question. He wondered how many people were able to say that to their significant other. “This one” referred to the fact that he had multiple scars from multiple different injuries. It wasn’t conventional, but he found it amusing considering that you were in the same boat. A dangerous career meant dangerous encounters. It was impossible not to have some scars here and there. 

“I think that one was when I got stabbed by the Russian last fall,” He said. “Remember him?”

Simon also found it funny that he wasn’t even totally certain if that was how he earned that one. When someone had as many as he did, the reasons behind them sometimes blended together.

“Oh, yeah. He was a big dude.” You shuddered.

Simon chuckled. That was putting it lightly. He watched as you scanned over his frame, trying to locate another one that you were (or maybe weren’t familiar with).

In so many ways, you enjoyed his company as well. Seeing Simon in such a casual setting was new for you. It was refreshing to know that he really was like everyone else. He enjoyed watching sports games, ordering takeout, and spending a lazy day at home just like you did. 

Not to mention the major elephant in the room, Simon didn’t wear the mask at home. 

This was the longest extended period of time that you had seen him without the mask. Here and there he had put his balaclava on, but for the most part – he had been maskless. Of course you had seen him without a mask before this – but only twice. The first time had been a complete accident, and the second had been intentional in Simon’s first show of trust to you in private. 

Even though his bedroom’s only source of light was currently coming from the streets below and outside of his apartment, you could see his face as clear as ever. He was so beautifully handsome. It was amazing to you that there were so few people that knew what he looked like. You knew better than to comment on that. He never gave more than a vanilla answer to any kind of statement regarding the mask. 

But that didn’t stop you from trying.

“You’re so cute without the mask.” You hummed, finding a small scar just between his nose and the apple of his left cheek.

“Oh, don’t start with all that.” He groaned, but the pink flush in his cheeks let you know that he liked it just a teeny bit.

“Come on,” You whined. “What about this one? Did you take a knife tip to the face in a struggle?”

“That’s from the first time shaving on my own, darling,” He almost laughed. “How else would I have a scar on my face?”

“What do you mean?” You quirked your head.

“I wear the mask, my lovely. Not exactly easy to take damage to the face.”

You supposed that did make sense, and you didn’t dwell on it long.

“This one is from the fire in that shack in Mexico, right?” You pointed towards a burn scar on the skin of his right bicep.

“Yeah, because the shape is similar to the scar you have on your forearm.” He remarked. 

Instinctively, you raised your right forearm to compare the two scars. Sure enough, they were nearly the same shape and size.

“Well…mine is from a hot curling iron,” You snorted. “That’s the one that sticks out to you? Not the scar from metal shrapnel in my knee or from when I got shot in the side in France?”

“It’s the one I remember best because it looks just like mine.” He explained.

‘You know, they say soulmates have matching scars.’ Something that Simon had said to you once in passing. You had taken it as a joke, but Simon couldn’t have been more serious.

“They’re hardly the same.” You smiled.

“A burn is a burn.” He shrugged.

It was a bit of a weird game, he would admit. The two of you did this every so often, comparing scars and reminiscing on how you got them. In a way, it was therapeutic. It also reminded you to be thankful that it wasn’t the injury that made you meet your demise. 

You and Simon both shared scars from stab wounds, gunshot wounds, burns, and cuts of varying degrees. It came with the territory, and it was almost like trophy collecting at this point. The two of you had grown accustomed to them, and most of the time you didn’t even notice them anymore. 

Simon never minded letting you ogle over him in an attempt to find a mark that you hadn’t noticed before. He found it endearing, perhaps a little unfair because he knew there wasn’t a single part of you that he hadn’t noticed already.

Simon felt you examine his torso and legs, scanning over him carefully for another scar to ask about. Not a part of him went unsearched (including his face, where he greedily stole kisses when you got close). You studied his shoulders, biceps (spending a little extra time there – it had always been your favorite part of him), and elbows all the way down to his forearms. 

He didn’t think much of it. Not until he felt your fingers dance over a certain scar that sent his blood from rushing warm to ice cold. A million signals traveled through his system at once – a defense mechanism of sorts.

“What’s this one?” You touched over a mark on his forearm that was much more distinctive than the rest.

It wasn’t remarkably large. It was about the size of a dime, maybe a tad smaller. But its shape wasn’t like anything you had ever seen on yourself or anybody for that matter. It was just barely risen above the skin, and based on the goosebumps that had appeared on his arm – you knew this one was special.

“That one is…older.” He spoke, his voice lower and much more guarded.

You removed your fingers from it because even though he didn’t say it, you could tell that he didn’t like you touching it. The few times that you had accidentally hit a sore spot for him, he put this quick wall up. Identifying it had become easy for you. Pressing forward usually didn’t seem like the best idea, but ignoring it wasn’t very helpful either.

“Older…?” You asked.

“Yeah,” He nodded, voice neutral and deep. “My father smoked.”

Your eyes took another glance at it, using context clues to put the pieces together. What you knew of his father (and you would confess that it was very little) painted him to be the most evil, sinister person to ever walk the planet. Simon had divulged small details here and there, a childhood story every now and again. Needless to say, you knew that his father (and his younger days in general) were not the highlights of his life.

“Oh,” You swallowed, a queasy feeling overtaking your stomach. “I’m sorry.”

Simon’s dark brown eyes met your downcast ones at the sound of your voice being so retracted and soft. Simon could read you like a book. He didn’t want you feeling guilty for asking questions that you had no way of knowing the answer to. You were the last person that he wanted to be uncomfortable at his expense.

“Hey,” He shifted to also sit up on his elbow. “Not your fault. You didn’t know.”

What was ironic was that cigarette burn was the most minor damage left behind by his father. It was something that he could forget…and most of the time he did. The physical injuries were a blip. It was the other stuff – the more hurtful, intense, and…psychological stuff that took the hardest toll on him.

“What happened? When he…burned you?” You continued cautiously.

Simon didn’t blame you for asking questions. If it were the other way around and he knew that someone had hurt you, he’d want to know everything too. But the fact of the matter was that it was buried so far deep in his past that he hardly felt any real reason to dwell on it. Maybe it was his way of deflecting, avoiding old feelings that he never quite came to terms with.

“Darling, I…it’s not personal, I just…” He sighed, unsure of how to gently turn your question down. “I’d rather not talk about it.”

You gave an understanding nod, knowing that line wasn’t ready to be crossed.

“I just feel like I always bring up bad memories for you.” You nearly whispered.

“You don’t. Most of the time I bring it up on my own,” He assured you. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Are you sure?” You squeaked.

He gave a genuine smile, one that was usually hidden by a skull-adorned fabric. 

“Positive,” He pulled you back into his side. “After all, why focus on the past when you could focus on the future?”

“And what do you have in mind, Lieutenant?” You snickered.

He rolled over, hovering over you and trapping you between himself and the mattress.

“Something I think you’ll really go for, Gecko.” 

“Mm. Using my call sign? Must be really important.” You went on.

“Something like that.” He kissed you then, keeping you from asking any more questions on that subject.

Simon knew that with time, he’d be more willing to talk about his father. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust you with that information. Quite the opposite, actually. But in a certain way, not talking about it made Simon feel like it wasn’t real. If he never brought it up, then he could keep it in the past – where it belonged. He didn’t want his past to define his future, and keeping his past alive wasn’t of any interest to him.

He wasn’t lying when he said he’d rather focus on the future. He was so much more in tune with you and continuing what you had than anything else in his life. He liked the Ghost and Gecko dynamic, and he was forever grateful for the utter joy it had brought to him. Most importantly, he was forever thankful for the love being shown to him that he had missed out on.

The love that you had shown him.

[hg-aneh]

SO 👏

someone mentioned my other catboy omens stuff in a few tags (thank you btw <3) and I decided I'd just dump all of it in a single post outside of the main tag

... I've spammed enough of my things on it today

*cough* Here's that post :D

(Backstory sketchy ass comics under the cut)

(Yes, that's Eve)

(Madame Tracy and Aziraphale are adoptive siblings in this :D)

CW for grooming and SA attempt committed by one (1) Lucifer on this next one.

It's nothing explicit but it's definitely heavily implied.

And ofc I left it there bc I got distracted with other things.

Sorry if the story and dialogue are wack, I'm not a writer and english ain't my native language.

This is all before Azi and Crow meet, they were supposed to have a really cool adventure with lots of feelings after this, but... yknow what happened

Also dont think for a second that Azi had it any easier, my boy was declawed and forced to act more human before he got adopted skgkd

If there's any questions (of course there are, I didn't explain shit for the sake of not making this post any longer than it already is sjgbc), I'd be pleased to answer them

I'm sad that I couldnt bring myself to do anything with them romancing around besides those two first drawings

But at least there's this

Thank you if you survived this post, have a free cookie and a lovely day 🍪

[kandlewick]

i'll dry the villain's tears pt.1

you get reincarnated into a role that became the breaking point of the villain's story and you, be it an unwillingness to cause them harm or a desire to survive, must work hard to make sure they grow into a better (or at least safer) person.

all entries are meant to be read as platonic. All are meant to be taken place in the TWST universe accurate to the game.

When you awaken one morning, you find yourself nursing the worst headache of your life. Your eyes refuse to open as you hear a door open and the sound of shuffling footsteps. You quietly will whoever entered your room to leave but you can't even bring yourself to speak a single word and instead, only a huff of breath escapes your lips.

You can almost feel tears build up in your eyes as you feel a blissfully cold towel be pressed against your forehead and the small fingers that accompany it. Though they shake from nerves, they know what they're doing despite how young they obviously appear to be. With what is last of your strength, you force your eyes to open and quietly watch as the young boy in front of you lowers his hands until they reach his chest, his head tucked far between his shoulders, almost as if he was frightened of you waking up.

"I'm sorry," He whispered, gray eyes nervously swaying, "I thought that - you - you were burning up and the doctor said... I know it's not perfect, but I got worried and..."

His little body hid his shakes well but his voice betrayed him. He wanted to make sure you were ok but he was worried his attempts weren't good enough. For your sake or his own, you weren't entirely sure.

"Thank you..."

He almost didn't hear your soft whisper but when he did, he seemed to bloom. With pride, with happiness, with acceptance. As if that one little sincere word was the nicest thing he's ever heard in his entire existence.

"Get some rest, Mother," the boy spoke softly, his words more firm in their affection, "I'll make sure to wake you for your dinner. As soon as Mr. Bandersnatch heard that you fell ill and, although you said you don't much care for him, he's been causing quite a fuss a.."

Everything after that was lost to you as you faded away into a deep and dreamless sleep, the only thought left on the tip of your tongue was a quiet curse.

You've been reborn as the tyrant Queen of Heart's mother.

You awaken one day with perhaps the largest bump you've ever seen placed nearly perfectly center on your forehead. You don't remember how you got it but the two princes never left your side (Falena would not stop crying and despite his claims of laughter at your expense, you can tell his brother was equally worried), only being dragged away by their tutor as soon as they let their guard down.

You looked down at the hands on your lap and clutched your fists open and closed over and over again. Gone were your long fingers and wide palms, instead you look down at the chubby hands of a child no more then six.

From what your handmaiden had told you, the three of you had been playing spelldrive together and Leona, in his eagerness to best his brother, had shot the disk perhaps a bit too strong and instead of flying in to the goal, it had changed course and struck you hard enough to knock you unconscious for the rest of the early hours of the morning.

You remembered this event. It's what led to Falena's betrothed sticking closer to him and farther from Leona. What once was a well balanced trio had become a teeter totter with Falena and her on one side and Leona alone, unable to change anything with what little weight he had to offer.

Falena's betrothed; that was you. From the story you had read, the two were deeply in love and ruled the kingdom hand in hand towards a brighter future... all while unknowingly leaving the youngest brother in the shadows, forgotten and alone and desperate. You couldn't afford for that to happen.

You don't see the two of them until late that evening. Falena looked exhausted, like the tutoring had beaten any last bit of energy he could spare and with a loud yawn, had eagerly hopped into the cot next to you on your right. Leona was slow to join but settled himself to your left, his shoulder bumping yours.

"You look ridiculous," he spoke aloud, glancing at your bruised forehead. You just gave him your most unimpressed stare you could manage.

"Aaah! They're bleeding!"

"Ahahaha!"

"Ow!! They're biting me!! Get a teacher!!"

You couldn't see anything past the arms and tails flailing around you as you reached out and clawed and bit at anything that dared get too close to you, lashing out with everything your new and tiny body would allow. Your teeth were currently sunk deep in the tail flesh of a mermaid boy, his fists digging into your hair as he tried to pull you off of him.

Blinking past the shock, you could only bite harder, unwilling to let go of your prey. Despite the danger you were posing, you couldn't remember why you were biting this hard. Why this particular mermaid? What had he done that was worthy of your bite? It all didn't matter much as you were quickly hoisted up by the back of your neck and away from the shrieking mass of children. You could taste blood and flesh between your sharp teeth and you loudly spit it out, earning an even bigger wave of a response from the students.

"This is why we can't have piranhamer with the other students!" Cried an adult, "They only cause trouble!" They looked towards the source of the problem. Away from the other children and the source of your outuburst lied cowering octomer, spluttering and crying.

"What happened?" Your teacher seethed, eyes abruptly turning to you.

"I-I," you were taken aback that no one seemed to be comforting the child who stood alone and in a fit of rage unknown to you, you kicked and clawed at the hand holding you, your tiny fists barely making them flinch "They were bullying him!! I hate it!! I'll bite them over and over until they apologize!!"

"He's weird!" One mermaid child cried, her arms crossed, "And he made us lose in our swimming game because he's so slow and f-"

The teacher quickly reaffirmed their grip on you as you lunged towards her, your jaw snapping loudly causing her to shriek and dart behind the others, her tail barely peaking out from the crowd of mer.

Two eels watched in mild curiosity as you continued gnawing on your teachers arm, one with his arms crossed and another with an almost devilish grin on his face.

"Eheheh~ I like that one, Azul! Neh neh, Jade~ We should keep the little bitey one!"

"Fufufu~"

"Snff... snff......"

[oweninadaydream]

𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐠𝐨 𝐩𝐭 𝟐 || 𝐅.𝐎𝐝𝐚𝐢𝐫

𝓼𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓻𝔂 : Say Don't Go (Taylor's version) (From The Vault) or 4 times you say 'I love you' and Finnick says nothing back.

𝓹𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰 : Finnick Odair x reader

𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽 : 2k

𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓼 : angst/fluffy ending i promise, TW: mentions of torture ,anxiety and kidnapping (first story).

𝓪/𝓷 : As promised, here's part 2 of say don't go pt 1 !!! I hope you enjoy the fic!!!

3. 𝓰𝓱𝓸𝓼𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝔂𝓸𝓾

You woke up in your bed, yet you could not recall how you got there. Your body felt sore and stiff but nothing could top the way your head was pounding. You were seated against the headboard and you noticed that something wasn’t right ; you couldn’t pinpoint what it was, but you knew deep inside that something was different. To help calm your distress, you tried to remember anything about the day before . You realized right and then that your memory was completely blank, leaving you even more worried than you were prior to that failed attempt. 

You had assumed you were all alone, but then you saw Finnick pass through your bedroom door. “Thank God he’s here” you thought, convincing yourself that everything would be alright now that he was there with you (even if you ignored the motivation behind his unexpected visit). He slowly made his way inside and stood in the middle of the room, keeping himself at arm’s length, something extremely unusual that confirmed your gut feeling. Once he had entered your bedroom, you couldn’t help but analyze him and his strange attitude.  His movements were robotic as if someone had a remote control that forced him to act like that. His eyes had never been a mystery to you , you could always tell what was going on inside him with a single stare . But this time it was different; he was staring at you with an impassive look that you couldn't quite read, making your whole body tremble in fear and distrust.

You felt intimidated and tried to figure out what was wrong with him “Finn dear, what’s going on?" you asked with a quivering smile. You tried to lift your hand to reach his but ,for some reason, you couldn't. It felt like you were strapped to the mattress and you started panicking, as you couldn't figure out what was happening. Seeking comfort, you pleaded with him in between sobs "I'm very scared Finnick please tell me something, anything. Or just hold me because this is very confusing. I- I feel like- I can't move out of bed, I- I need you" 

He simply continued to play his stoic role ; he didn't move one inch before your panic attack or your efforts to set free from the invisible restraints holding you down. "Help me" you whispered with an expression of pure pain on your damped face. Your foggy brain couldn't process the scene before your eyes ; the person who represented love, hope and comfort in your miserable life was being a passive witness to your spectacle of fear and it didn’t seem like he was going to jump into action anytime soon. 

You noticed a rapid change in his factions. His eyes burst into flames of hatred and his clenched jaw only accentuated the shift from indifference to hostility. Instead of hurrying to console and aid you like the Finnick you knew would, this empty shell of a man that resembled him broke the distance between you and wrapped his hands around your throat, beginning to strangle you purposefully. 

You had been living in survival mode ever since you were chosen as a tribute for District 4 all those years ago, you were no stranger to fighting or death, but never in a million years would you have imagined that the man who swore to shield you from any danger would be the one stealing your breath with his bare hands in an extremely violent manner . You were desperately gasping for air and coughing while he continued to focus on his mission. 

For a moment, he seemed to let his hold loose a bit and you took the chance to try and talk him into letting go "Finn, it's me. Why are you doing this?Is anyone making you do this? We take care of each other, remember? I love you more than anything." you told him with a soft but raspy voice as a consequence of his assault. You were tired and wanted to give up, but you continued to fight for him, for your Finn to come back. Apparently, hearing your desperate confession only aggravated the situation, because you felt the strength returning to his hands. 

Suddenly, in between your cries and the lack of air , you felt yourself fading away. But before that happened , you heard a very loud scream. In the blink of an eye, you were no longer in your house and Finnick was nowhere to be seen. A white sterile room welcomed you to reality as some doctors accompanied by two peacekeepers entered the room. 

Oh, you remember now. You were kidnapped by the Capitol, who had been subjecting you to all kinds of  twisted experiments and never-ending abuse for who knows how long. The loud cries and several swear words that made you snap out of that nightmare were Johanna's, whose room was at your right. Peeta was your other neighbor, allowing you to hear them both being tortured at any given time. You looked at your arms and legs and saw the ropes tying you down , justifying the oppressing feeling you had while hallucinating. 

The main theme of your punishments for not snitching was him, Finnick Odair. Snow was more than aware of the deep devotion you held for him and how dear you were to him so he figured the perfect torture would be messing with your memories and use several techniques to impose fear and pain in your heart whenever you thought  of him or saw his face. That way, you would finally be all alone in this world ,  scared of the only thing you've ever loved so greatly and he would have to witness you shy away from him in pure terror. To meet his goal, they would drug you and play videos and recordings of him saying the meanest and cruelest words that you knew he would never be able to pronounce, but as the days passed , the truth and the imposed thoughts started to blur in one big and confusing mass. 

You were resisting quite well to President Snow's diabolic plan, but you could only hold onto your actual memories for so long. One of the last things you remembered thinking about  before you let yourself fall into madness were his eyes, and how much you loved them.

If your suffering assured his survival, you'd tell the Capitol to put you through it a thousand more times , and you would gladly do it again. If only you could have held your sweet Finnick for one more minute before letting him go forever…

4. 𝓪𝓷 𝓸𝓭𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝓘 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮

The setting sun turned the white-sanded coast of District 4 a soft but enchanting shade of orange. The waves crashing against the rocks accompanied perfectly the idyllic landscape and brought a sense of calmness to the people assembled there. The summer solstice is a day where usually people celebrate the arrival of a new season, but that was not the case this time.

The beach looked magnificent, Effie had been the chief in charge of making everything (and everyone) look ideal for the occasion that brought them all together on that day. The first rows of white chairs were occupied by Haymitch, Effie, Katniss, Peeta, Johanna, Annie and right next to her, there was Mags, the woman who had taken care of you both for so many years and had seen how you two where meant to be from the first time you and your fiancé (soon to be husband) exchanged looks.

Neither you nor Finnick had ever thought about marrying anyone ; under Snow's regime, you were mere pieces of a game with no actual power of decision. But that didn't matter anymore. You were walking towards Finnick, who was nervously fidgeting with the sleeve of his suit , waiting for you at the end of the isle. When you finally arrived at your destination, you couldn't help but to turn around and go back to hug Mags, who received you with open arms and a couple of shed tears over her face. After this emotional moment, you went back to Finnick's side "Hi" you whispered so that the conversation could remain secret from all the guests "You come here often?" he teased with a beaming smile on his face. You let out a breathy laugh to relieve some tension and then you both turned so that the ceremony could start.

"I want to keep this vows short because I would need another lifetime just to expose the million reasons why this is the best day of my life. We're free, my love. It's truly over. This is our reward after a whole life of suffering and holding back. I am so in love with you, it's hard to put it into words. You know? Mags once told me that the thing I needed the most had always been right in front of me and I didn't get what she meant by that in that moment. She just laughed at me and told me that I would understand, one of these days" Mags in the front row was a tearful mess "and now I do. I really do" he stated confidently while holding your hands on his.

"My soul craves intertwining itself with yours until there's no way to separate them. So, with this ring" he then proceeded to grab your left hand so cautiously as if you would break at the minimum touch, and slip the golden ring in your finger "I, Finnick Odair, swear to protect, satisfy and devote myself to you ; my friend, my savior and now my spouse. I can't wait to spend the rest of my days with my forever love, which happens to be you" He had always hated to see you cry, even if they were happy tears, so he had to insert a little joke to see you chuckle and be able to hear the most beautiful sound on Earth ; your laugh.

You could sense that your voice would betray you at the minimum attempt to speak, so you needed to rush through your vows before you would explode into tears "God Finnick, you always know how to leave me speechless." the guests all laughed, moved by the evident complicity between the two of you.

"I always knew you were my soulmate, the person I was meant to find. The love I carry for you in my heart used to feel too heavy, but now that I get to set it free, it's more like energy rushing though my whole body, healing all the broken parts. I have the privilege to experience how it feels being loved by you and I want to try and describe it for all our friends who are here today" you breathed in and out and kept talking "Being loved by you feels like being rocked by the sea, like waking up to the smell of freshly baked goods or like being tucked into a warm bed in wintertime. It's exiting, comforting, amusing and an insane amount of other things that I could say right now" you recited while staring at his piercing green eyes that were completely red and filled with tears . You caressed his cheek and tried to wipe them away. "I will always follow you wherever you go, until the end of time. That's what I've always wanted to do and I couldn't be more exited about spending the rest of my life with such a handsome and amazing man. I love you."

Before you could do or say anything else, Finnick held your face between his hand and kissed you like he had been wanting to do since the ceremony started. You said 'I love you' and he said nothing back, but it wasn't so bad this time.

TAGLIST : @bambikitten , @thefourrealms , @shooting-a-star-at-the-moon , @justtrying2getby .

[markscherz]

A friend of mine sent me a yt video of a guy who was relocating frog eggs (prolly a vernal pool) and showed 1000s of baby frogs coming out of the water in his backyard. she asked me how I felt about it as a ecologist. I felt like it was irresponsible to do, especially to post videos on it, but probably not "ecological terrorism" like people in the comments were saying, because I see baby frogs in nature come out of water in hoards sometimes too. Kind of a mixed bag.

But I wanted to ask you, since you're a herpetologist and waaay more experienced than me: how do you feel about the yt channel "frog army YouTube"?

Many frogs and toads are classical R-strategists. Some toads can lay 20+ THOUSAND eggs in a single clutch. The whole point of that strategy is that not all of the offspring survive. In fact, it would be really rather bad if all of the offspring were to survive, because (1) they wouldn't be feeding the predators and decomposers that live off of their noble sacrifice, and (2) they will require massively more resources than they otherwise would. It can have all kinds of detrimental down-stream effects.

This is the reason we often see swarms of tadpoles darkening some small pools (especially ones where there are no fish!), and later hoards of froglets (that's the technical term) emerging from pools at once. It's an evolutionary strategy, that only few individuals survive to achieve reproductive age.

Point 1: it is *fine* if not all the tadpoles survive to adulthood. That's how the system is supposed to work. You are not doing the system favours if you are changing tadpole survivorship to 100%.

Now, humans really are fucking things up in a lot of environments. Environmental pollutants, like heavy metals, can cause major issues for wildlife, and especially frogs, which (1) are not as vagile as e.g. birds and medium- to large-sized mammals and thus cannot escape the problem zone effectively, and (2) are EXTRA sensitive to the environment because of their permeable skin.

Point 2: we do have some responsibility to do something if we notice that there is a major problem emerging, which could dramatically alter the population dynamics for one or more generations of frogs.

However, *moving* clutches of eggs that are found in polluted pools is not the right move, especially for your average person. There are many reasons that it is not the right move, but chief among them are

(1) A lot of frogs that lay eggs in vernal pools have tadpoles that cannot survive being in larger ponds, and certainly cannot survive in streams or other bodies of flowing water.

(2) A lot of frogs that lay their eggs in vernal pools are already adapted to less than ideal conditions, and have excellent strategies to overcome those conditions, such as incredibly quick metamorphosis (sometimes just a few days!)

(3) By moving clutches of eggs, you could easily be moving the pathogens or pollutants that are causing the problem in the first place.

(4) If there is Batrachochytrium dendrobatidis fungus around, you are spreading chytrid, and that is VERY bad. Chytridiomycosis has already driven several frog species to extinction, and caused massive population collapse in several others.

(5) If you do not know the species, attempts to rescue them might be aiding the advance of an invasive species.

(6) It's often illegal to intervene! Many species are protected by law, and you are not allowed to remove them from the wild. Consult your local laws.

Point 3: the responsibility to do something does not include removing the frogs and raising a frog army.

So what should we do if we find a clutch of eggs in an oily pool? Or in a nearly dried out puddle?

First assess the nature of the problem. Is the pool just about to dry out? Then leave it alone. The tadpoles will probably be fine (and if they're not, they'll provide rich nutrients to predators and decomposers). But are there signs of pollution? Then assess: is the pollution covering a larger area? Or is it localised? If you find dead frogs or other amphibians is a major warning sign, and it needs to be brought to the relevant authorities. Contact your local environmental agency/department, and notify them of the precise location of the problem, and its extent. Document everything with photos and videos.

Point 4: there are organisations and agencies specifically tasked with intervening in cases of environmental damage. It is *your* job to bring it to their attention, but unless instructed by them, you need not take any further action. It is their job to know what to do, and to take appropriate action.

TL;DR: 'Raising a frog army' is for the likes, not the frogs, and is not environmentally responsible or ethically defensible. Build a home for the frogs, and they will come.

[mo0nfairy]

I gotta see a part of yandere Leon where reader remembers him as they get through los Iluminados maybe some yandere in action lol (at least only if you want to!)

part 1. part 3. part 4.

tw :: obsessive!leon, yandere!leon, mention of drugs, framing, handcuffs, stalking, trauma, guns, wounds, heights, being locked up.

⸺ ooooooo !!! i've been meaning to make a part 2 of my last ask, but had zero idea where to go from where i ended. i also had played a bit of RE2 before the remake came out recently, so a piece of my brain has been kept up in raccoon city for a little while. i would love to express my thoughts and mesh these two games together !!

let's start with where we left off in los iluminados.

upon having your handcuffs taken off by the stranger who is far too close for comfort, you pace backwards, far away as you can get from this insanity of a man. his attitude abruptly shifts into something softer, a major contrast to the emotional breakdown he had just seconds prior. he realizes you're afraid — afraid of him. and as much as the mere thought destroys him to the point of breaking down again, he shoves a sob back down his throat and keeps his distance, despite how desperately he wishes to close it.

6 years. 6 years. he has been waiting over 2,190 miserable days for this single moment. all the sleepless nights spent searching the world for you; all the hopeless nights spent clinging to pillows, praying by some miracle it will somehow become you. every second of these past 6 years has been spent dreaming of this single moment. and even though your reunion wasn't the teary-eyed, passionate kiss in the rain he had hoped for, you are still here with him nonetheless.

and like hell will he let you slip from his grasp again.

with as much time as his needy self would grant him being physically away from you, he is soon at your side. leon then wraps you in his jacket and you swear you hear a harsh gasp escape from him when his finger accidentally makes contact with the skin of your neck. despite your negligence and more-than-obvious discomfort, you do appreciate the new warm embrace after a week of cold rain and damp clothes. it smells exactly like him, as well.

and with that, he's got a gentle hand hovering over your lower back as he guides you through the depths of this hellhole. and piece by piece, memories that had been buried in your brain begin to disinter themselves.

for example, you got a staring problem bro?? for the entirety of the time you spend with leon in los iluminados, there is literally never a single moment where this mans eyes are not on you. half of the time it is to ensure you are unharmed, but the other half consists of him staring in complete and utter awe. it's kind of hard to focus on surviving when leon is constantly staring into your soul. but it has just been so fucking long since he has been able to see you in all of your glory, so please excuse him for any inappropriate behavior on his end.

also, you knew you have lived in raccoon city for a short period of time before the events of RE2 happened, but like everything else that relates to that damned place, you couldn't remember a thing.

except now. leon's gaze uncovers a memory you have of yourself being held in one of the RPD holding cells. the atrocious scent, the uncomfortable bench, the paint peeling from the walls. you try and scrutinize what on earth you could have been arrested for, but your attempts are merely futile. but unbeknownst to you, your arrest was nothing but bullshit. and to say leon has had a crush on you from the second you moved into RC would be nothing short of the truth. so, by pulling some strings, the rookie had managed to lock you up for what he calls 'bonding time'. he'll place a chair backwards in front of your cell, prop his arms on the backrest and admire you with your full attention finally on him (instead of just stalking you around town).

two things you now remember about this man: he was so adorably baby-faced back then and my god, was he awkward. he still cannot talk for shit and i mean this with my whole heart. his sweet, innocent eyes gaze at you while he tries to play it cool, pulling cards like "yeah, i workout" and "you come here often?". all as if he hadn't personally arrested you for possession of illegal substances he planted himself. (nothing will happen to you, obvi. he just desperately needed a second alone with you to show off how charismatic he can be. or try to be, at least).

and for the short second of seeing him after 6 years, his eyes were just devoid of any life. you had assumed the trauma inflicted from that night had caused such a contrast in his physical appearance, and you would be right to assume that. but the soulless eyes, monotone voice, and lackluster personality was entirely due to your disappearance. days upon days of the lonely, eternal torment destroyed his sanity. however, that illustrious boy you can barely remember seems to have returned with your presence.

another thing you can't believe you had forgotten was how intense his stare is. the way he stares is illegible and sometimes overwhelming. he shivers in his stance, whimpers at your every move, and his mind runs rampant with all sorts of obsessive declarations of love. although it may seem creepy to others and especially yourself, do not fret. he has no ill intent towards you, god he could never! this puppy-dog of a man is simply marveling at your sheer existence.

you are able to retrieve another lost memory when you have to jump from a window and into his arms (for those who say he won't be able to catch you, stfu. have ya'll seen how beefy his arms are??? anyways....). the secret agent you have grown to like during your stay in los iluminados jumps down marvelously (most def showing off his james-bond-esque agilities to you). he now watches from below as you stare at the distance beneath you in trepidation. this distrust you have — he is going to travel to the ends of the universe to fix it. no matter what.

you begin to ponder, he has savagely brutalized all threats in your path and held your hand as if he were holding the world all in the same breath. you should trust him, especially after witnessing the pure display of loyalty he has for you.

"don't be afraid, y/n. i'll catch you, i promise!" there is 10000% a way to walk through the house and down the stairs to get to him, but ofc he's not gonna tell you. why would he willingly throw away the opportunity to be your knight in shining armor?

"you will?" your voice is full of apprehension. his stare on you feels like the same bullets he's forced upon your attackers.

"always."

with that, you rip the bandaid off and jump from the ledge. and leon was most certainly not lying. you land safely in his embrace and he wraps his arms tightly around your form. and to finally have you so close, after so, so long of devastatingly praying he could feel you once more.......... if he had a tail, it would for sure be wagging so fast it would morph into a blur. and the way he holds you is different, as if his gentle nature is reserved for you and you only (which it is. this is literally him in a nutshell).

and when you had instinctively buried your face into his neck upon landing, clinging to him out of fear of hitting the ground, he literally melts. i'm serious, he literally just 🫠🫠🫠🫠. the faint hum of laughter and adoration that escapes his throat breaks you out of your state of shock. you made it safely to the ground without breaking every bone in your body, hooray! (as if there is a single reality in existence where leon would ever allow that to happen, but i digress).

you meet his gaze and there is that all-too familiar stare he gives you. leon's arms holding onto you like a lifeline uncovers a memory you have of yourself being held like this all those years ago. you can't recall exactly where in raccoon city you were, but you can remember how humiliated you were when you tripped over a crack in the pavement and ate shit. there was the fairest of scrapes against your shin, but the mortification hurt far more than any wound. while you dust yourself off and attempt to ignore the burning stares of pedestrians, a shout of your name sparks your attention.

the RPD gear and besotted eyes you're met with could be no other than that baby-faced rookie. you ponder of what he was doing on this side of town. was it a simple coincidence you had run into each other? or perhaps, had he followed you? just when you think you can't feel more embarrassed, leon gets down on one knee and dramatically inspects your wound. and my god, he acts like you were shot or something. he visibly shudders from the sight of your leg; people begin to gather around the commotion. with pure ease, he then scoops you into his arms to bring you to safety. you can feel his heart pound like a machine gun beneath the palm of your hand.

despite the humiliation deprived from this event, you fortunately are free from anything mortifying in los iluminados. however, leon doesn't seem to understand when to take a hint.

"uh... you can put me down now." you come out of your memory to thrash in his grasp and avoid his intense gaze, but your prince charming seems to still be caught in his y/n-filled daze.

after a few long seconds, your comment seems to finally reach his brain. "huh?" his response is faint and you almost don't hear it.

you repeat yourself and begrudgingly, leon then slowly puts you back onto your feet, savoring the last few seconds spent with you in his arms. exactly where you belong. you can only fear how much more suffocating affection you'll have to endure before you can finally remember what happened that night.

i think someone legit needs to slap me across the face and bring me back into reality cause holy shit...... i went WAYY too far with this. my brain is a mess thank u for reading.

i have more thoughts about this........ just incase u were curious........ ;)

[faeriekit]

sorry I need to lose my mind for a couple paragraphs:

THIS old man is WHITEPASSING.

So, if you're wondering how the hell this dude is Whitepassing, please note that this is restricted to a single comics run rather than All Alfreds in the Known Multiverse™. Anyway, I was reading the Dark Knights of Steel vol 2 of my own accord (and against the better judgement of friends) because I apparently enjoy suffering when I got the to the "Alfred has secretly been J'onn J'onezz the whole time" schtick and my brain turned clean off.

Because. Implications.

To start, when they draw J'onn as himself as opposed to his "Alfred" disguise:

J'onn is still drawn with what look like typically "Black" features, albeit with a few Martian overtones: high cheekbones, a broad face, a flat, wide nose. His "Alfred" form is distinctly differently structured with a narrow face, sharp nose, etc etc. Couple that with a backstory explicitly referencing escaping from a war and attempted enslavement, this is a pretty strong attempt at an allegorical Black alien, even if, uh, you know. It's also Alfred. (And yes this is all ignoring that J'onn is usually portrayed as Black; I just wanted to see if his allegorical Blackness still held up in this particular comic run.)

And there's a lot to be said here about the long and storied history of having black caregivers raise privileged white children and the racism embedded therein but that's not what's happening!! As far as I've gotten (and this is as far as reading vol 2 of the dark knights of steel compendium, and only vol 2), Alfred did stay beside Bruce ever since Bruce's parents kicked the bucket, but.

No one else knew "Alfred" was a nonhuman.

Not Bruce. Not his friends (if he has any). Not his fellows in the army, nor anyone else in the entire world— because due to the inherent prejudice of the setting, everyone he knew would quite possibly turn their back on him or turn him in if his true history was revealed. The world at large was prejudiced against him and non-humans like him, and the solution was to hide or otherwise obscure both history and origin so that he could move freely without repercussions. Even Bruce in this run, the only guy "Alfred" is with at all times, is shown to be prejudiced against non-humans and explicitly hostile. Hiding is shown to be not just necessary, but the only surefire way to survive the Plot™.

So, uh. Just to make sure everyone is on the same page, do y'all know what Whitepassing is...? Ever since White people started bringing slavery to the shores of the new world in the 1600s, people were pretty quick to discover that as long as you were born light enough, people would no longer harass you for doing dangerous and scary things like wanting to own property or to stop being held captive and forced to do hard labor or wanting to keep your own kids. It was easy to do! Provided, of course, that you could 1) escape your circumstances in some manner, 2) give up every person you ever knew, including all friends, family, and references to thereof, and 3) pretend you're someone else for the rest of your life without ever breaking your own cover.

You may be thinking, wow, this sounds horrible and traumatizing! Sure does, and that's because it is! But it's a pretty well-known part of the Black community even today, because if you could pass, you had an infinitely better chance at making enough money to live. You could feed your kids. You could save up to own your own home. You could get a career that didn't physically break you down or disable you.

Passing is giving yourself as good a chance to live as anyone else could ever get, and all it costs is everyone and everything you've ever known. Of course people chose to pass. Of course people choose to pass even here and now.

And you know what? As soon as J'onn reveals his nature, someone close to the throne takes advantage of the knowledge to immediately kill him. Fucked up. It's notable that, in some way or form, J'onn J'onzz, Martian man from outer space, is always human-passing, but the sheer implications of being explicitly depicted as Whitepassing, even if only accidentally, blew my brain clean open.

Imagine passing in a world completely foreign to you. You don't know their customs. You don't know their language at first. You have to learn to adapt. You can't say your true name or show your true face, or everyone will know who you are— what you are. Eventually, you learn to let people close to the mask you've made, but you can never relax with them; you can say your wife is dead, but they cannot hear her name, or they will Know. You can tell them your child died in your arm, but you can't tell them where, or when, or why.

You raise a child to adulthood. They do not know your true form, and you pray they never will.

You tell them the name appropriate for their society, and that is what they call you.

Anyway. This old man is Whitepassing. I feel so bad for him.

(It's important to note that while this part of the storyline doesn't seem to go anywhere that wasn't plot relevant, that somehow didn't stop it from manifesting in the middle of this medieval aliens comic. Which. Wow. What a move.)

[sweet-s0rr0w]

Happy Valentine's Day to you all! To celebrate, I'm back with another collaborative Drarry reclist, featuring a new lovely bunch of Drarry writers, artists, reccers, and fans!

Once again, the question was: ‘what one or two fics, or scenes, or quotes, represent peak Drarry romance to you?’ and (in what is rapidly becoming a nightmare for me), no duplicates from previous years were allowed. Thank you so much to everyone who took part, I hope you enjoy the results!

You can find part 1 (2022) here, and part 2 (2023) here!

This year's list features answers from: apricitydays-lazynights, arminaa8, drarrymyheart, drarryspecificrecs, hoko-onchi-writes, jtimu, littlewinnow, mallstars, myrtlefics, oflights, peachydreamxx, pl0tty, rainstormradish, romaine2424, squintclover, starquestingfordrarry, thecouchsofa, thedrarrylibrarian, and themiddleofwonderland!

***

@apricitydays-lazynights

��who will receive you in love's offices by jtimu (E, 30k)

It was a wonder, Draco thought, watching Potter tip back the last remnants of his drink, that the man had survived to adulthood. Not because of the war, or the constant attempts on his life, or surviving two separate killing curses, despite his insistence that he had at some point died, but because there was not a single ounce of self-preservation in his entire body. There couldn’t be. …He glanced over at the potion on the table, and considered, for a fraction of a moment, getting up and pouring those same drops of veritaserum into his own glass. He looked away just as fast, back at Potter, grinning in his chair like they were queuing up for a Quidditch game and not at all like he had just handed his childhood nemesis the keys to his thoughts. “All right,” he said, “first of all. What the ever loving fuck is wrong with you?

@arminaa8

💗My Beautiful Boy by alexmeg (unrated, 69k, sequel to Alucinatio)

"You don't even like boys."

"I didn't know I did. But you," Harry trails off, laughs with his gaze trying to meet the grey of Draco's eyes, a little tremulous with nerves and fear and the way his breath sticks high in his throat like an ache. Draco does look at him, then. "God, you."

💗Seagulls Cause Storms, or the Essence of Chaos by @writandromance (M, 312k)

The stars above them were bright white. It made him think again of the black universe between the constellations, the way he thought people like him held the space for people like Harry to burn hot.

@drarrymyheart

💗The Rewards of Being Loved by @lou-isfake (E, 161k, sequel to The Ordeal of Being Known)

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to make you stop thinking so hard,” Harry replied, grinning mischievously. He placed Draco’s hand on his bare waist, his own hand on Draco’s shoulder. Draco’s lips twitched in a hesitant grin.

“This song is too fast for you to dance to.”

“Only if I’m thinking about it,” Harry retorted, stepping in close. “Is my kitchen too difficult for you to dance in, your highness?”

“Don’t underestimate me, Potter,” Draco murmured, his grin widening as he pulled Harry flush against him, taking his hand. Harry chuckled, waiting for him to lead.”

💗I Do Not Love You by @writandromance (M, 228k)

“The thing is,” Harry said, voice low like all they’d said was public knowledge and this was the secret. “If you’re interested in this, if we pursue this, I’ll be a goner.”

“A goner?” he echoed.

Harry took a lung-filling breath. “Yeah, Draco,” he sighed. “That’ll be it for me. Tony… well, Tony I ended up happy to see go. Miles, I—that was hard in the moment but I was fine. But you… we’re so connected, our lives are so connected, our friends. I don’t want to fuck around, it would be serious, to me. You’re serious to me.”

@drarryspecificrecs

(cause 'Hogwarts 8th year' & 'creature' are among my fave tropes and I really really adore fics where Draco is in trouble but not weak & Harry is already smitten with him)

💗Draco Malfoy, It's Your Lucky Day by @faith2wood (E, 37k)

💗The Arc of the Pendulum by brummell (E, 30k)

@hoko-onchi-writes

💗Half Sick of Shadows by StarQuesting (E, 40k)

(I have a hard time containing myself about dragon tamer Draco, and everyone knows it. I’m about as subtle as a brick when something pings a sweet spot in my brain. But this fic is so much more than a hot, aloof, sex king dragon tamer Draco who has weaver Harry weak in the knees. It is also so very bright and clear in my mind; the visuals are so affecting, just like the creations that Harry weaves. Favorite scene: Harry casually chatting with dragons. 12/10 would be unhinged again.)

💗A pulled down shade by fast_brother (M, 43k)

(I’m not a big crier over fics. Maybe three or four have made me cry this year. This one made me lose it. I think the thing that stands out to me is the visceral capture of emotion. You can feel Draco’s broken heart, and then you can feel Harry’s. I could probably get worked up about it right now. Favorite scene: Draco crying over the broken tea cup. I literally can’t function when I think about it. 12/10 would cry again.)

💗The Brightest Constellations of Our Souls by thecouchsofa (E, 256k)

(I might be cheating since I’m still savoring The Brightest Constellation of Our Souls but I’m including it because it is Peak Drarry Romance. TheCouchSofa always has this intensely brilliant characterization. Harry is heartbreakingly oblivious. Draco is prickly and about as subtle as a brick over pining for Harry. This also features depression!Harry, which has gotta be one of my favorite Harrys. She writes depressed Harry with such delicacy, handling the ins and outs of mental illness and trauma with care, but also making it fucking funny. Favorite scene so far: Harry very casually slipping into conversation that he’s bisexual after he’s been traveling with Draco for an absurd amount of time without mentioning it. And Draco’s ensuing reaction. 12/10 will continue swooning.)

@jtimu

💗Designate / your love as fate by @elskanellis (E, 17k)

💗Lover, Where Do You Live? by @dodgerkedavra (E, 39k)

💗Seven Days in June by @fourth-rose (E, 47k)

@littlewinnow

💗1000 Kisses: #27 First Thing in the Morning, Just After Moving in Together by @deliciouslystickypersona (E, 3k)

Draco trails his fingertips over the flat plane of Harry’s belly, tracing the line of hair up to where it widens over his pectorals. He nuzzles his nose into the curve of Harry’s shoulder, inhaling the sweet, musky, sleepy scent of his skin.

💗Little Love by @ladderofyears (M, 34k)

Harry – who still held Draco’s hand – was gazing at the baby, spellbound by the sight. His whole appearance couldn’t have been prouder, or more loving, had he been Snidget’s natural father. When Harry caught Draco looking at him, he beamed, unashamed of his response.

@mallstars

💗Elaborate, Correct, and Assiduously Observed by peu_a_peu (T, 4k)

Some things were still the same, he thought. Draco was the perfect height for Harry to put his head on his shoulder and rest. That had been secretly true all along, and they’d only had to figure it out.

💗Us, In Lieu by Tepre (E, 30k)

“I . . .” The words jumble in his mouth. His hair is still mostly wet in his neck. He should’ve shaved. He should’ve cleaned his glasses. He should’ve— “I do want you.” And, “Enough,” he adds, then decides no , decides, “Not just enough. More than. More than that.” He licks his lips. “So much more than that.”

💗The Pure and Simple Truth by @letteredlettered (E, 14k)

Malfoy’s eyelashes were visible just above his cheeks, golden and some might have said they should have been darker, but Harry thought that they were perfect. The curve of Malfoy’s jaw, the slant of Malfoy’s throat, that was perfect, too. Malfoy looked up, licked his lips. “I thought you weren’t interested,” he said.

💗The Isle of Ogygia by @citrusses (E, 13k)

The days pass slower, after Potter leaves. Draco tries to fish again, and manages to actually levitate a fish out of the water, but then he Stuns it and it sinks back beneath the waves like a rock, and he doesn’t have any luck retrieving it again. Every day he walks to the top of the lighthouse, casts the right spells, and walks back down. He looks around his room and thinks about where Potter sat.

@myrtlefics

💗Going Postal by dustmouth (125 page comic)

(I am a complete and utter sucker for Dustmouth’s comics and the correspondence and longing and softness of this one make me really happy)

@oflights

💗Yours is the Earth (Hold On, Hold On) by chickenlivesinpumpkin (E, 127k)

(Chapter 11: it's one of my fave proposals in any fic ever/a beautiful love confession/a lovely romantic moment that fits with how the rest of the fic builds up their relationship and all the poor communication and ways they've hurt each other and love each other)

@peachydreamxx

💗to be a bit of warmth (for you) by @softlystarstruck (M, 9k)

Draco stirs in Harry’s arms, mumbling something soft and incoherent, and Harry whispers a wandless spell to completely dim the room lights. If Draco is just seeking comfort, so what? Harry has more than enough to give– it may be the only thing he has left to give– and Draco grounds him, too. Whatever happened on the other side of a war they both went through no longer matters. They’re here, now, and Draco is cold.So Harry will keep him warm.

@pl0tty

💗Tandem by fast_brother (M, 93k)

The handle clicked and the door cracked open, allowing the sound of rain to come into the car. 

“I… thanks,” Harry said. His heart was beating faster. His hands were sweaty.

Draco didn’t back away completely, just enough to be able to look Harry in the eyes. 

“You have to stop that, Harry. Really," he said gravely, as if speaking about a very serious issue. 

“Stop what?” Harry asked stupidly, still holding his breath. 

“You have to stop looking at me like that.”

Harry’s heart traveled all the way up to his throat. 

“I– I can’t,” he blurted out, feeling himself flush with the enormity of what he’d just said.

Draco let out a shocked chortle. He looked away at the street covered in rain, his left hand still resting on Harry’s chair. When he turned back towards Harry, he wasn’t laughing anymore.

He leaned in and kissed Harry on the lips.

💗Matters of the heart by nerakrose (G, 5k)

Today’s breakfast: eggs, toast, tea. I’ve left the sink a mess this week but I’ll do the dishes later. In a way taking these moments to write to you every morning feels like a little quiet refuge or a secret space that nobody else knows about but you. It feels safe here. I miss you. These days I’m missing you more than I’ve ever missed you before and I can’t explain it. Have I reached a breaking point? I don’t know.

Yours,

Harry

💗More Than That by joosetta (E, 11k)

“He was going to kill you,” Potter said, “He said he was going to kill you.”

“He was never going to kill me,” Draco mumbled, “He was up against you for Merlin’s sake. He tried to play quick-curse with Harry fucking Potter.”

Potter was silent for a bit at that, raising a hand up and stroking the back of Draco's head.

“He thought I would help him,” Potter said finally. Draco felt the strangest thing, like a spasm in his face, that left his eyes hot, and his lips shaking. He had to gather himself together again before he could reply.

“Well, he’s never had me suck his cock, so there was no way he could know,” Draco said, instead of he didn’t realise that you loved me. Potter got it anyway, because he laughed, just a little bit. He drew back, and his face was the most frightening and beautiful thing Draco had ever seen.

“You always talk like you give me blow jobs all the time,” he said. “You almost never give me blow jobs, Draco.”

💗Sparks from the Fox’s Tail by khalulu (T, 17k)

And then it was just natural to turn in his arms so they were face to face. Eye to eye, lip to lip, mouth to mouth. Natural to fall into bed together, hands and mouths moving over warm skin, stroking and kissing til they were breathless.

Harry broke off. “Should we think this through?”

“No,” said Draco. “Why did you pull away in the shower?”

“You were so weak then, I didn’t want to take advantage.”

“I was throwing myself at you with what little strength I had. Next time, catch me.”

“I’ve got you,” Harry said, winding himself around Draco. “I’ve got you.”

@rainstormradish

💗Where I see things right by InnerLilith (E, 15k)

(just... absolutely gorgeous handling of a sensitive subject, and I love how the preparation and thoughtfulness is such a big part of the romance. I don't bookmark InnerLilith's fics so much as intermittently go and reread half their back catalogue again. I've loved everything I've read from them.)

💗Help! I'm a Hopeless Romantic by peachydreamxx (M, 15k)

(we watch Harry fall in love with Draco and come to terms with lots of aspects of his life. The little Google searches are just so sweet and tender and I loved, loved loved it. And the ending is so perfect.)

@romaine2424

💗keep driving by @babooshkart (art)

(The romance portrayed in Keep Driving is palpable. Draco is so cool, but from every look, you can see the adoration she has for Harry. And Harry thrives off of the touches between them but also has a confident sense of her own worth. I will never tire of this calming, soft piece depicting a happy, confident, and joyful Drarry. The world is theirs to explore. They'll keep driving.)

💗Never Mind the Bollocks by @the-sinking-ship (E, 119k)

(Never Mind the Bollocks is a new fic from Erised 2023. I loved every moment of it, and Harry having so much fun and feeling like he belonged was everything. However, his drive to right and save all was still there. Chapter 18 brought it all together. I won't say how as the fic is so new, but, for me, it was so romantic with BAMF Harry showing up and Draco trying to be mad. Complete chef's kiss.)

@squintclover

💗 A Secondary Education by Thunderbird587 (E, 235k)

(I remember so vividly the falling in love and the moment when it changed for both of them.)

@starquestingfordrarry

💗The Potter Malfoy bathroom war of 2007 by @andithiel (E, 9k)

(it is peak bathing-comfort)

@thecouchsofa

💗Cut From the Sky by mallstars (E, 150k)

(“Rainy romance’ describes this perfectly. I love how Harry grows to love Draco and never stops going after him once he realises that’s what he wants. This kind of love necessitates an endless amount of patience, but I can’t think of anything more romantic than that – someone coming back time and time again and showing you more grace than you would ever show yourself.)

💗Everything is Relative to You by @thehoneybeet (E, 43k)

(Harry and Draco being each other’s Great Loves in every life going back hundreds of years? I am feral. I cannot be contained. A demonstration of them being perfect for each other in every timeline, through good and bad. This is peak romance at its best.)

@thedrarrylibrarian

💗O Come, All Ye Faithful by @toomuchplor (E, 20k)

(Told through jumps between the past and the present, I adore the way toomuchplor depicts the everyday romance of an established relationship. Too often romance is delegated to big displays of affection, when I think much of romance is in the mundane, routine moments. Listening to your partner share about their day is romantic. Making routine breakfast and coffee is romantic. The intimacy of having an ongoing inside joke about a cat name is unbearably romantic to me. These are the small, everyday moments that the foundations of grand romances are built upon, and this fic was a love note to those moments.)

@themiddleofwonderland (amazuppai)

💗Heal Thyself by astolat (T, 16k)

(it's a classic H/D fic that preserves Draco's prickly personality while still showing him reforming in a very realistic way. It's a slow-burn—Harry isn't really in the first half at all, and when he does show up he's still very suspicious of Draco—but as Draco shows his (new) true colors, Harry can't help that his suspicions turn to curiosity (one of my favorite tropes with reformed Draco fics) especially with the somewhat forced proximity they find themselves in that slowly turns into voluntary and frequent proximity. To me, maybe because of the slow burn, it seems like a very realistic depiction of how Draco could reform himself and how Harry can turn his suspicions into curiosity and eventually more to form a healthy relationship together.)

[phas3d]

Caught You || Tom Riddle

type :: fluff

tw/cw :: cringe, idc that he's "out of character" i'm delusional and stopped taking my meds

summary :: you catch your "evil" classmate doing very un-evil things, dare I say, kind things

Tom loves the idea of being an ultimate evil, having no redeeming traits in order to solidify himself as the strongest villain within the Wizarding world. But, he tends to fail his goal almost weekly.

Normally, Tom is able to keep secrets very well. For crying out loud, this man drafted, constructed, and furnished a whole fucking "chamber of secrets" without a single teacher knowing. But you, for some odd reason, were able to catch him over and over again.

It first started when one day you were going out for a walk to clear your mind after getting into a heated debate with your friend on some stupid topic. You marched down to the Black Lake for peace, only to get stopped in your tracks as you heard a voice.

"You know, for a homeless cat, you're pretty fat." You heard a deep voice say softly.

With gentle steps, you moved towards the sound and hid behind a tree as you saw Tom Riddle, the evilest and meanest boy in Hogwarts, cooing and feeding a chubby black cat, (he wasn't joking, the cat was on the brink of being a circle). You held your breathe, knowing that the slightest sound will alert Tom's hyper sensitive senses.

"I don't understand how you can survive in the wild when you can barely walk at 2 miles per hour." He continued to roast the poor cat, thank god the cat didn't understand.

You smiled on instinct and from that motion Tom was aware of you. It was scary and concerning how good he was at sensing people around him. It was as if he could hear your flesh tense up in order to create the small smile on your face.

"Shit..." You hear him say under his breathe, covering his face with his hand from embarrassment. For once, he was scared. If anything, he was mortified of the idea of turning around and facing someone he knew or even worse, respected!

To save him from the pain of having to ask you to come out, you stepped out on your own accord. "You're really mean to him" You say with a small chuckle as you glanced down to see Tom still squatting in front of the fat cat.

A sigh left Tom's lips, he got up from his squatted position and it quickly reminded you how he was able to tower over you. He turned to face you, holding two cans of empty cat food. You didn't know cats super well, but you did know they ate very small portions. From the two empty and licked clean tin cans, you could instantly tell that TOM was the reason why that cute cat was so fat.

It was like Tom was able to read your mind as he quickly defended himself, "Usually, there are more cats to feed but his fat ass could smell the container from miles away. So, blame him for overeating."

You couldn't help but notice how Tom's voice was less soft, sounding like his usual self. Although his voice to the cat wasn't extremely different, you could tell there was only pure admiration wrapped into his vocal chords as he spoke to the cat versus pure neutrality when he spoke to you.

Unsure of what to say, you stayed silent. You've tried to talk to Tom multiple times before and it's never ended well. In school you would try to create small talk but he would shut it down with 1 word answers. When you did succeed in a conversation lasting more than 2 sentences back and forth, any attempt to learn more about him was shut down by a dirty side-eye from him, silently tell you to shut up.

You were doing your best to think of a reply but you couldn't before Tom reached into his robe's pockets and pulled out two tins of cat food. He looked down into your eyes as he waited for you to take them.

With a smile, you happily grabbed the two tins and began to follow behind him as he took you to where the cats usually were.

From then on, you began to feed the cats with Tom as often as you could. It went from you joining him once a week to everyday. The cats began to remember your faces and scents as they instantly crowded you and Tom with small meows and rubs of their heads.

This tradition carried on for days and months, making your bond with Tom stronger as each day passed until he finally began to open up to you and start conversation. From that, you felt an instant spark and began to become friends with him which transitioned into a relationship.

Even after you both graduated from Hogwarts, you two would still visit the Black Lake to feed the cats, like an old elderly couple that feeds birds.

[james-silent-hill]

PLEASE MIND THE TAGS AND NOTES!!

(NOT ALL TAGS APPLY YET BECAUSE ITS A MULTI CHAPTER FIC)

A Female reader/ James Sunderland fanfiction, part 1.

Enjoy:

‘Violate me'

"What?" James spins around, a mixture of confusion and distaste written all over his Features.

"What? I didn't say anything." You huff, he's been on edge this whole time. Sure you both seem lost in this place, you don't even remember how you got here. All you know is that you woke up with your upper body resting on a bar table. Wearing something you would have never picked out for yourself.

Red high heels with a slightly ripped and thin Pantyhose.

A tight denim skirt and a stomach free Black top. The only jacket you got is James green one, pulling it tightly around your shoulders.

"Sorry, I thought I heard you say something" James shakes his head to himself, guiding the two of you with his flashlight towards another empty and cold looking place. Maybe he can get a fire started or something.

When he helps you climb inside through the window he stops to stare at something causing you to lightly run into his side "What?!" He spins around again, a form of anger on his face.

"What's wrong with you? You stopped moving and I didn't see shit in here" You huff.

"No you said something this time, I know you did." His body language makes you feel uneasy and you are slowly reconsidering if you can actually trust him.

"I didn't. I swear. What do you keep hearing me say?" Now you are curious.

"Forget about it. Just...if you are messing with me, stop okay?" He turns away and starts collecting wood. Or more like parts of the inner walls tossing them on a pile. Hopefully a fire works out here.

After a few too many failed attempts of him trying to make a fire you step in, you manage the first time you try. Watching the dry wood burst into a bright and big fire, it warms your skin, it looks tempting to touch, if only it wasn't so dangerous.

James pulls up two chairs close by the fire, holding on tightly to his metal pipe with an eye on the window.

"Ugh these are fucking killing me, I don't even know why I'm wearing them" your hands pull on one of the Red high heels. Rubbing at your ankle before you do the same with your other foot. "I don't know why I'm wearing any of this" You sigh.

Not exactly survival attire.

His gaze is glued on your legs, watching your hands massage your ankle and calf muscle.

'Hurt me'

He hears you whisper even though not a single sound left your lips.

"I'm sorry." James frowns deeply.

"Sorry for what?" You place the heels next to you, inching your feet closer to the fire, picking at the torn fabric of your pantyhose.

"For being angry, I don't mean to be. It's just...this place" it drives him mad the way your fingers toy with the thin fabric. Tracing your thigh with his eyes, fighting an urge to pull at the denim skirt to see your legs connect to your hips.

"It's okay, I'm kinda used to that stuff, you just gotta be able to handle it when it comes back at ya" when your eyes meet his thin lipped polite smile is almost unsettling.

"You get angry too?" He asks.

"Yeah, I've lived in an angry home for many years, so, there will always be anger." But you don't want to go down the trauma lane today.

And thankfully James doesn't ask anything further. It's just the two of you and a blazing fire in a run down old store. His face lit up by those flames almost seems nostalgic, but the sad kind, fond memories written over with painful ones, the kind you'd rather forget about.

"We can rest a bit but we shouldn't stay too long" James is always in a hurry to get somewhere but only barely knows to where.

"Okay." You nod, breathing in deeply, the scent on his jacket reminds you of something. Decay. And a probably failed attempt to mask that scent with a way too aggressive aftershave. You enjoy not having your feet in those shoes and your legs strained from the uncomfortable angle for a few moments longer before James seemingly gets more and more uncomfortable.

"Hey you okay?" You put your hand on his shoulder but he flinches away from your touch.

"You are sure you aren't saying things?" His eyes seem desperate for reassurance or...for you to confess to something you didn't do.

"Positive. We were sitting in silence" He seems to dislike that statement a lot.

"So i'm just crazy then, great" He nods, he's tired, god he's so tired.

"If you tell me what you heard or what you keep hearing then maybe we can figure it out or something?" You shrug.

Something in his eyes seems off again.

"No..No it's...- it's Vile. It's awful." His breathing picks up speed when your body turns towards him and you place your feet at the edge of his chair.

"Just talk to me. Everything about this place is Vile and..awful" You huff.

"I keep hearing you say things that you aren't, stuff you certainly don't mean. It's so...off putting. It's like I'm reading a mind that isn't there, because I know It's nothing you would think or say." He really is uneasy about this.

"James, what am I saying?" You wonder.

"Violate me."

"That's what I heard the first time. And then I heard Hurt me." He can't look at you at all.

"Oh? Wow. Yeah I really didn't say that" Why would you say such things? Doesn't make any sense.

"Is that all you heard?" Is there more? If there is, you hope it won't be as bad as 'violate me'.

"Just a moment ago I could have sworn I heard you say 'let it all out on me' " His eyes wander to your legs again, how easily spreadable they look. The voice is dripping filth in his ear again, he can't believe he's hearing such words especially knowing the woman in front of him didn't say any of them.

"Let what out? Anger? Frustration? In what way?" But while you finish your sentence your eyes trace his, the way his gaze is lingering on your knees, picturing something.

"Wow...okay, that's, that's a lot and that's not okay" You turn away from him putting the shoes back on.

"That's what I mean, I'm sorry, I know this all seems so messed up. I'd never.." He shakes his head "I would never." He says in a firm and loud tone.

"Bare minimum but good to know" You give him his jacket back, feeling uneasy in the cold and under his gaze now that you stepped away from the fire. You don't do that anymore, be a thing for fucked up guys who need to unwind. An object they can toss out once they get tired of it.

"Don't go! Please, you're gonna get yourself killed in those heels. Or in the cold." He keeps his distance but offers his jacket back to you.

You hate that he's right.

The longer you hesitate to take his jacket back the sadder his eyes seem. Almost as if he's really haunted by what he said, and by what he's hearing.

You reach out and take his jacket, pulling it over your shoulders and tugging your arms in front of your chest. "I used to...say these things. I don't say them anymore" his gaze truly does appear to soften.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything." He slowly takes his seat back by the fire.

"Used to drink and Party a lot. Hook up with the fucked up ones you know? And one night I.. -" You hear the brakes of a car loudly in the distance. The sound of a horrible crash almost bursts your eardrum.

"Did you hear that???" You jump up to look out of the window but there aren't any driving cars. Or people. Let alone a real road for cars to drive onto.

"Hear what? I didn't.. " James follows to peek outside. It's just as silent and as foggy as it was when you two came in here.

"Sounded like a horrible crash" You frown. A memory floats in your head somewhere unable to reach it, unable to really remember.

"Strange. Feeling like there is something you have to remember. Need to remember. But it won't come to you no matter how hard you try" You point out and when you turn around James is just a few inches from you.

He's beautiful.

If only his eyes weren't so haunted, it's a look you remember, the edges of the eyes slightly red and the shape of the eye feels..taunting.

It's a pair of eyes you see staring down at you, slamming your body into the mattress as hard as they can while pouring another drink down their greedy throats. You let them. You didn't fight. You didn't want to fight it.

A part of you always liked it.

It feels as if he knows, knows that deep down you want to be roughed up, have bruises on your hips and wrists for days.. reminders of their brutality.

He looks at you as if he can see you touching yourself to those memories. Clench your bruises while you climax to be reminded of the feeling again, and again and again.

He looks away first, trying to keep his composure. God he's trying so hard.

"This has to stop. These things we keep hearing, I can't..- I can't focus, I forgot where i was heading! What I had to look for." He frowns. A bottle of whisky smiles brightly at him in the rubble of the rundown store. He can't. He can't have a drink not now. Not here. Not with you.

He can't even look at you for too long or these thoughts or voices whatever they are come back. They always come back.

"Let's just stay busy, let's keep going, you said you had to find something in an Apartment?" You tilt your head taking the map from his jacket pocket. A set of heavy door keys jingle in the same pocket.

"Let's head there and not stop no matter what we see or hear, okay?" You shift your weight on your heels when you don't get an answer straight away.

"Okay James?" You try to see what he's looking at this time but.. you two don't see the same things in here. You probably never will.

"Yeah." He grabs the metal pipe from the chair and then he's out the door, waiting for you to catch up.

______

At the Apartments.

The tension didn't ease up much but at least you have something new to do, you have no idea what he's searching for but as long as he kills those monsters for you, you gladly tag along.

"You okay?" You ask when he's staring off into the distance again.

"Voices." He replies with an exhausted sigh.

"What did they whisper this time? I mean.. can't get that much worse right?" He doesn't respond at first and you sense this weight on his shoulders again, if his Guilt was a rain cloud it would follow him around everywhere.

"Squeeze until my eyes roll back" He whispers.

"Oh" choking was a big part of it, everytime you were dumb enough to trust someone with it, it could have been the last mistake you've made.

Nobody luckily ever took it too far, or you wouldn't be here right now.

"Are you hearing things about me?" He asks before trying to solve some kind of puzzle looking thing.

"No, I don't hear any voices but..-" You hesitate.

"But?" He turns looking at some type of button in his hand not sure yet what to do with it.

"But I can see it.”

“In your eyes I mean." You avoid his gaze this time.

"See what?" He takes a gentle hold of your shoulder.

"Death." You frown when his haunted gaze turns sad, desperate, trapped.

"My wife, she- she passed" He lies.

"Oh shit. Sorry! I'm so sorry about that, I shouldn't have said it" You really didn't mean to remind him of that.

"Was it very recent?" Trying empathy on a man like him is playing a dangerous game, you've done it too many times.

"It's been three years" He mumbles while solving the little mystery by replacing some buttons.

"You look like it happened yesterday".

You hear a door in the distance unlock and watch James step away from the table the puzzle was on, he seems colder now, you probably overstepped a little. You two are strangers after all. Maybe it's not for you to say how he looks or how he might be feeling.

"You don't look too happy either, it's in your eyes too, your cheekbones, the way they look a bit sucked in. Alcoholic?" He asks not so gently.

"Used to be a lot of things, but I never had a Problem with that" You stand on this. Wrongly so.

"Sure." James nods before he walks past you, he doesn't seem to believe a word you said. Takes one to know one maybe? No. You never had a problem right?

_____

The stroll through the different run down Apartments it's exhausting in its own way. Your feet really really hurt by now and ever since you mentioned how James looks as if his wife passed yesterday he's been distant. Maybe the memory of it just simply hurts and he needs some time to cool down again.

You suddenly feel a grip on the jacket, yelling out as you get flung across the room by something, something big and scary wearing a Triangle shaped helmet carrying a huge sword.

You hear James gun go off a bunch of times but the landing you took knocked the air out of your lungs. That thing turns around and walks towards you, James Shooting doesn't matter at all.

It grabs you by your throat and...this must be it. You'll die here. Your punishment for what happened 3 months ago..

The realization of it weighs deep in your gut, the guilt you feel pouring into every inch of your skin makes you sick. And then the Monster drops you,it slowly walks out of the Apartment and you hear the sound of the sword dragging behind it get further and further away.

"I did it. I killed him..- I killed him, I killed that poor kid" You shake your head violently. Hands shaking. Every fiber in you craves a drink.

"What? Hey, calm down, what are you talking about?" James tries to lift you up from the floor but you won't budge. So he kneels down next to you.

But instead of confessing anything you just push yourself up against him, arms wrap around his torso while your head rests on his chest.

Being held like this while the memory of a crash comes back to you helps but in the end..you are here for a reason, crying about it won't be enough, everyone in silent hill needs to pay for their sins. You shouldn't have driven that night, in the rain, after a bunch of drinks. You took a risk and it backfired.

And then you ran. Not wanting to rot away in prison for killing that 17 year old in the other car, you ran and you ran until you woke up here, lost, stranded.

Now two haunted pairs of eyes are gazing at each other. None of them are better than the other.

________

I hope you liked it!

Here you can read it or bookmark it on A03 !

Part 2 right here

[inlandempir]

post on one of the dev forums for disco elysium, titled "THE BENEFITS OF A MODERN FANTASY WORLD". text version beneath the cut

There's been a lot of art and tech talk so far, it's all kinda dry or saccharine. I think it's time to juice it up by throwing in a proper essay.

THE BENEFITS OF A MODERN FANTASY WORLD

The world of No Truce! (we do have a proper name for it, but we’re shy) is not what you’d call “a generic genre world”. It is not pseudo-medieval stasis, as Forgotten Realms was, nor is it Fallout’s campy barbarism with guns. It is also not a Harry Potter/Batman/vampire fantasy world, which is basically “our world with a secret/special world within it”. Neither is it the tech-obsessed ‘punks’ of steam and cyber. It’s a modern fantasy world, a fantasy world in its modernity, which roughly corresponds to the middle part of our XXth century. Now that kind of thing opens up an array of new possibilities. It is a world with a promise of non-staticness, meaning, things appear undecided — they could go one way or the other. It is close enough to our own world for things to have meaning in it, it is a proper frame in which to explore themes relevant to our own society such as bigotry, power relations, politics, bureaucratic apparati, geopolitical relations, philosophy, ideology, religion et cetera. A pseudo-medieval world is not a proper frame for truly exploring themes of, for example, sexuality, for it lacks 1) a proper concept of sexuality, 2) an actual idea of societal progress and 3) a clear ideological dominant, which would be the place where values come from. All you can do in a static, societally unstructured world is give out-of-place shoutouts to present day communities for cheap popularity (“this is exactly my sexual orientation, how did they know?!”).

We find the ideological dominant missing because the western world is traditionally culturally critical of ideological dominants – critical of both state and religion. Anyhow, a classic fantasy world would feature two main ideologies – the “good” and the “evil”, of which the former is selfless and compassionate, but the other one is selfish and cruel. The attempts to overcome that have given us the Grittywelt – a world in which everyone is an asshole and pessimism rules the day. Unsurprisingly, Grittywelt is also static as hell and meaningful change is foreclosed from it. It is a “protection from false hopes”. As such, it is heavily unrealistic. Much more realistic would be people living in super gritty conditions, but not looking the part, that is, not really noticing the abnormal harshness of their conditions, because they don’t have much to compare them to, and being hopeful towards the next day, because surprise! This is how you do it. Survive, I mean. Being depressed is a luxury. In a way, I’d say we’re trying to create the obverse of the Grittywelt – a world in which everyone is empathizable, sort of a hero of their own story.

The modern era is also a fitting vessel for anachronisms – do we not have actual cyborg limbs and donkey-pulled carts operating in the same world at the modern era? Capitalism can also contain little feudalisms in a way, in which a single man or single family controls the entire economy of a town or a village and profits from it. And at the same time, it can also contain little socialist utopias, scientist villages, in which everything is provided by the State. Aside from being a basic feature of reality (anachronism is nothing more than time failing to fit the stereotype about it), it is also a lovable creative tool, allowing for a plethora of what-if-scenarios. Imagine a modern world, only without television; imagine a modern world in which there never was a global war, imagine a world in which fossil fuels are less available. Now, if you will, imagine one which has forgotten its antiquity, and one, in which there is not just water between the continents, but something worse as well — an anti-reality mass we call “pale” (also more on that later). Now imagine one, which has a legitimate and operative “religion of history” in place, which seeks for people it deems special enough to be the “vessel of progress”. (This is not an alternate history thing, by the way. An alternate history takes place in our world quite recognizably and has no more than one divergence point from history as it happened.)

One might ask, why would we not create an even more modern world, if we wanted to maximise our possibilities? Well one of the answers is that it would have destroyed the necessary element of escapism, another is that we cannot create a good alternate Information Era because we ourselves fail to understand the Information Era (More precicely, we have the information era in its infancy and it works via radio relays). We are too close to it and it is too new to understand it, it is “in progress”. The third reason would be that technology is not a fascinating subject for modern science fiction. It’s become a natural part of our reality. We don’t believe it’s going to save us anymore – it has failed to deliver for too long. I am of the belief that the themes of science fiction today are societal, political and psychological (one could maybe add aesthetical to it, for we also love the world for its beauty). All fantastic or sci-fi elements are means for best exploring those themes.

I have filled my page. That’s all for the time being. Thank you for reading.

Martin Luiga Writer