#very very light angst

[patolemus]

merlin magic reveal fic where arthur asks “why didn’t you tell me?” and merlin says, mirthless smile and haunted eyes “all my dreams end in fire. fire and burning and dying”

[shaylogic]

In the attic sequence when Edwin is helping Charles through his gradual death, Charles coughs hard at the table. Edwin asks if he's alright. He quickly says "Yeah I'm fine, answer my question! When did you go to school here?"

Even when Charles was very literally dying, he was still pushing the "don't worry about me haha" and then he DIED.

[littlecrittereli]

That moment when your non-affectionate brother is suddenly affectionate

[penkura]

Sanji feels nothing but anxiety as he waits for the transponder snail to ring. He’s not felt like this since he first called Zeff to tell him about your marriage and pregnancy, and that was nearly three years ago. He’ll have to call him again soon, but for now, he’s practically glaring at the poor, sleeping snail on your shared bed.

After a few minutes of nothing, Sanji lets out a heavy sigh and falls backwards, putting an arm over his face. He feels annoyed, and still anxious, but also somewhat scared? Yeah, he thinks that’s right. Maybe it’s more worry than anything else, he’s not entirely sure. Luckily he doesn’t have to dwell on it, as your daughter, two-year-old Angel crawls over to him on your bed, starting to pull on his arm with little giggles and shouts of ‘dada’ to get his attention. Those cute little sounds and her precious smile calm Sanji down quickly, as he picks her up and gives her a tight hug, making Angel squeal out of her own happiness.

“There’s my pretty girl!”

“Dada,” Angel giggles again, wrapping her little arms around his neck to return the hug, “Dada!”

Her laughs get louder when he kisses her chubby cheeks, causing you to smile as you joined them both on your bed.

“I get the cutest view ever with the two of you,” the two give you bright smiles, making you laugh a bit before you look at the transponder snail, “Anything yet?”

Shaking his head, Sanji stays quiet while Angel babbles and pats his face with her chubby hands, another small squeal coming from her when he hugs her close, kissing the top of her blonde head. You lean over, kissing his cheek and laying your head on his shoulder.

“…maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe she doesn’t—”

“She does, Sanji. She wants to know how you’re doing and how your life has changed,” stroking Angel’s hair gets her to look up at you, her smile making you move to take her from Sanji, “She’ll be so glad to hear you’re happy.”

Before he can even say anything in response, the snail starts ringing and Sanji feels that anxiety come back, looking to you while you smile at him as you go to leave. This call deserves every bit of privacy as any other.

“You’ve got this, Sanji.”

He lets it ring for a moment longer after you leave, before finally picking it up with a shaky hand and a deep breath.

“…Reiju?”

+!+

“Have you noticed that she looks like mom?”

Sanji tries hard not to let too much emotion show while he continues to make some tea for Reiju, but he still nods just a bit. You hadn’t invited her to the Sunny for such emotionally charged talks, just to meet her niece, since she’s the only one left of Sanji’s family that he doesn’t mind talking to. You made sure he was okay with it before you did so, promising that if he said no, you’d drop the idea altogether. You just wanted Angel to meet her aunt like she had all your siblings and parents more recently, and after Sanji thought about it for a few days, he agreed that it would be fine, as long as word about her didn’t get back to the rest of them.

“I have. I tell her that she looks like [Y/N] though, I think she doesn’t believe me since everyone says she looks just like me,” Sanji laughs while giving Reiju her cup of tea, sitting across from her with his own, “She’ll make a face at me like she’s skeptical, but she’s still adorable when she does it.”

The image makes Reiju smile as she sips her tea, nodding. “She probably has the same pout you did at that age.”

“Hey, I did not—”

“How old is she now?”

“…she’ll be three on Valentine’s Day, about two weeks from now.”

“How cute,” nodding, Reiju rests her chin in her hand, just watching Sanji, the love on his face is visible, “And you said [Y/N] is pregnant again?”

“With a boy, yeah. One of our allies is a doctor and did a check-up when we saw him last. He said everything’s fine so far.”

“That’s wonderful, Sanji.”

The two are quiet for a few moments, Sanji’s still nervous about this. When Angel was born he’d sworn to not let anyone from his biological family or Germa learn about her, but then he heard you were talking with Reiju. It upset him greatly at first, even though you promised up and down you’d not told her anything about you two being married or Angel’s existence, you only spoke to her about mundane, every day things, very rarely in fact. It took a few days before he stopped being upset, after you explained that it was simply to get to know her better, you were leaving the more important life things for Sanji to tell Reiju if he ever chose to. You’d never take that from him or cross that line without his permission.

Sanji did apologize for not believing you at first after he finally spoke to Reiju himself and heard how surprised she was to know you two had gotten married and had a child, she really didn’t know. She loved getting pictures of Angel after that, so she could see her niece and get used to the idea of being an aunt, before you suggested to Sanji that either the three of you meet up with Reiju somewhere, or invite her onto the Sunny, so she could have a real meeting with your daughter. It still took nearly a year for Sanji to feel comfortable with that idea, before you even asked if it would be okay, he had been thinking about it anyway, but needed some time still.

You and Angel aren’t even on the ship right now, you’d taken her into the town of the island you’re docked at, to let Sanji have some time alone with Reiju, he had somethings to talk to her about anyway. You’ll be back soon, Sanji’s anxiety over the meeting getting worse as time goes by.

“Reiju,” his voice is quiet, but Reiju hums a but in response, noticing Sanji isn’t even looking at her, “I don’t…I don’t want any of them to know about this…”

“Sanji—”

“If anything happened to my wife or children, I…I’d—”

“Sanji, I’m not going to let anyone know,” Sanji only looks at her when Reiju sets her hand on his, trying to calm him before he lets his mind run too far, “Father and our brothers won’t find out, nobody will, I’ll make sure of that. You deserve your happiness.”

It becomes quiet again, Sanji clenching his jaw as he’s not sure what to say, before Reiju speaks again with a smile.

“Mom would be proud of you. If she could see you now, and see that little girl, she would be so proud of the person you’ve become, how wonderful of a father you are to Angel.”

Sanji has to fight not to cry, especially when he hears you and Angel outside the kitchen door, you telling her that he has to be there like he always is when you come back. He’s quick to wipe away any tears that come up and stand from his seat, putting on a smile when you open the door and Angel sees him, grinning brightly before running to him.

“Daddy!!”

“There’s my princess!” Sanji lifts her up into the air, making her laugh, before he hugs her, “Did you have a good time with mommy?”

“Mm-hm!! We got candy!”

“Did you get your favorite, my dear?”

Angel nods, starting to try and tell Sanji everything both of you did in town, Reiju watches and smiles while you sit at the table, hand on your pregnant belly.

“I was right. He is a good father to her.”

Smiling yourself, you nod while watching the two loves of your live talk, Angel eventually noticing Reiju and starting to shy away, hiding her face in Sanji’s shoulder. She still takes glances at Reiju which Sanji sees, his own smile softening as he brings her over.

“Angel, this is your aunt Reiju. She’s my big sister.”

“Hi there, Angel,” your daughter starts to open up a bit when Reiju gets to eye level with her, holding her hand out for her, “It’s nice to finally meet you, I’ve heard so much about you from your dad.”

Angel really does start taking to Reiju as the day goes on, letting her hold her and talk to her more, your daughter even telling her she couldn’t wait to be a big sister too. It feels like the day goes by far too quickly, and Angel almost throws a fit when Reiju says she needs to leave, holding onto her and refusing to let go for you. Sanji crouches down to her level, giving her a smile.

“Sweetheart, we have to let aunt Reiju go now. She needs to go home.”

“Can she come back…?”

“If your dad is okay with it,” Reiju smiles and looks from Angel to Sanji, “I’d love to come back and see you all. And meet that little boy once he’s born.”

For a moment Sanji doesn’t say anything, but he nods and smiles softly at Angel.

“Yeah, she can come back.”

The three of you see Reiju off, Angel waving goodbye the whole time. You take Sanji’s hand and lean up to kiss his cheek, which he easily leans into.

“I’m proud of you, Sanji.”

[saintpavlov]

he doesn't mean to make you sad, you know that. it's just that, when atsumu's upset it becomes everyone's problem—yours especially.

you don't know how it starts. atsumu had been bouncing off the walls just a moment ago, drunk off of booze and the afterglow of victory. you don't know which one of his teammates had invited her to the after-party, just that right now, you can't help but hate them.

it's just for a second, but you catch it. the way his eyes immediately dim, how his hand falters around yours. you don't want to jump to conclusions, but it's obvious—atsumu's in love with her. painfully so.

he drops your hand as if burnt and turns away, letting himself be carried off into another conversation. atsumu laughs loud enough to be heard over the music, a deafening house mix that thuds through your chest like a second heartbeat. anyone else might not spare him a second glance, but you know that when atsumu laughs that loud there's something he's trying to hide. then, as if remembering that you're still there, atsumu turns over his shoulder. you answer before he can ask the question.

"no no, go ahead. go have fun!"

atsumu tilts his head, though you know he's only asking to be polite. "are you sure?"

you smile. "no worries."

it's a bold-faced lie, but atsumu's never been that good at paying attention. he returns your smile with an excited nod, letting himself be led away by the shoulders. "don't go anywhere!" he shouts, though you know later on he'll forget to come find you. that's the way it always is. always has been.

you nurse your drink against your chest—water, you don't have the stomach tonight—and try to look on the bright side, if there is one. atsumu had been the one to invite you, hadn't he? and though you're still "just friends", he'd held your hand earlier, so that has to count for something, right?

it's useless. you down your water in one go, figuring that if you treat it like alcohol it might work like it is. it doesn't, and now you're alone at this party with an empty cup and an even emptier hand.

you sigh and snake your way out of the kitchen, making your way up the stairs to the first door that opens. the upstairs is off-limits, but you hope that whoever owns this room is drunk enough to be forgiving. you don't even bother to turn on the lights, and instead flop backwards onto the bed. you feel the music downstairs rather than hearing it, a steady thump-thump-thump that shakes through you from head to toe.

you close your eyes, trying very hard not to think about atsumu and the girl he's still in love with downstairs. it's not your place to be bothered, that you know, but something in your chest still aches at the thought. you've loved atsumu since before he met her, after all. it's a shame he hasn't noticed. or maybe he's not noticing on purpose, which is considerably worse.

"woe is me," you say to no one, your voice biting with sarcasm. you're not shocked at how things are turning out, moreso that you thought it'd turn out any differently. with a sigh, you close your eyes. atsumu will find you eventually. and if he doesn't, then someone else will. you'd rather be cursed at for trespassing than anywhere downstairs, faking a smile as you wait for atsumu like a well-trained dog. at least here you can lick your wounds in private.

you don't know how much time has passed when you feel something press into your side, warm and solid. arms wrap around you: one slung over your waist, the other snaking its way under your head. you turn in confusion, seeing nothing in the dark.

whoever's holding you down reeks heavily of liquor, and their arm feels like a dead weight around you. when you try to pull it off they hold onto you tighter, mumbling something incoherent under their breath. "um, hey," you say loudly, voice hoarse with sleep. "get off of me."

the person beside you stirs, and the bed dips slightly as they prop themselves up. they mumble your name under their breath, and in the dark you can make out the vague outline of a face.

with a start, you realize you recognize that voice. "...osamu?"

he lies back down, bringing you along with him. "h-hey," you start to protest, but osamu's grip grows stronger in response.

"don't leave," he mumbles, as you try to sit up.

"but—"

"m'head hurts. shhh." osamu shushes you, curling up against your side. his hair tickles the side of your reddening cheek.

"hey, osamu." you try to move out from under his arm again, to no avail. "you're really drunk."

"and?" he counters, pulling you closer, almost possessively. "just pretend for a little while."

that catches you off guard. "pretend?"

"it's dark, so it's easier," osamu refuses to elaborate. "c'mon. it's my birthday."

"osamu, your birthday's in october."

"is it?" there's an uncharacteristic cheekiness to osamu's voice, one that makes you turn your head towards him in surprise. you can't see him, but you can tell from the warmth that his face is only inches away. "well it's somebody's birthday, somewhere."

something touches your cheek—osamu's hand? no, his face. somewhere near his chin, guessing by the stubble that scratches your skin. "just do me a favor and pretend i'm him," osamu says, and in that moment he sounds scarily sober.

"wh-what?" you can't help the way your mouth hangs open at the request, your stomach feeling like it's about to drop out of you.

"you heard me," osamu mumbles, back to being drunk again. "pretend i'm him. you know what i mean."

"you—what—that's not—"

"am i wrong?" osamu presses, raising his voice like he's imitating his brother. it works. osamu's fingers trace across your face, reading the shock on your face like braille. you turn your head and press your nose to his neck—no cologne, only the soft smell of skin. it can't be atsumu, but for a moment, you're fooled.

osamu tilts his head and sighs, slow and sweet. and when his lips brush your forehead, it's like everything you've ever dreamed. "i'm right," he breathes, nestling his head against your shoulder. it's not a question anymore, but a fact. "i'm right," he sing-songs, still painfully drunk.

"osamu—"

a hand covers your mouth, warm and firm. softer than atsumu's, and just a bit bigger. "don't say my name like that," he whispers, his voice hot against the shell of your ear, "say it the way you say his."

you swallow an audible gulp. "osa—osamu?" you try again.

osamu shakes his head. needy hands pull you in by the waist. you feel osamu's lips kiss up the side of your neck. "not like that," he murmurs.

"o-osa...mu..." you're breathless and dizzy. you feel osamu's smile against the underside of your jaw.

"better," he grins, and this time, his lips find yours.

it ends before you can even react. osamu pulls away with a shaky exhale, as if he's slowly waking from a dream. his eyes shine back at you in the dark, wide and unblinking.

he opens his mouth to speak. "i—"

"you're drunk," you say immediately, and push him away by the chest.

osamu doesn't let you. he brings his hands over yours and keeps them there, and under the thin cotton of his shirt you feel his heart beating rabbit-fast. "so? i'll still want you when i'm sober."

his words choke your own out of your throat. "osamu...i can't—"

"so don't. don't do anything. just stay the night." there's a desperation in his words that makes your stomach flip. osamu holds onto you like he's afraid to let go. "please."

it's late, and you're tired. atsumu's in love with someone that isn't you, but osamu's arms are warm enough to make you forget. you think to yourself: is it selfish if he's willing? are you cruel for wanting to pretend?

you wrap your arms around his neck and osamu relaxes, melting into you the same way butter does on toast. he's soft, comforting. familiar, but not the same. osamu's lips brush on your neck again and the impact shudders through your spine like electricity. he takes his hands and rubs them over your arms, thinking that you're cold. you don't want to tell him that in reality you're burning up, feeling hot everywhere he touches.

"thank you," osamu murmurs into your hair.

"for what?"

"stayin'."

and when osamu kisses you a second time, you don't have the heart to push him away.

[starry-bi-sky]

Blood Blossom Au: before the nightingale sings

---------

for my batdad blood blossom au, the one where Vlad poisoned Danny with blood blossom extract and Danny ran away from him and ended up tumbling into the care of one Pre-Robin Battinson Batman :). A quick oneshot telling the tale of the tragic deaths of the Fentons

TW: Major Character Death Warning

-------

Not all deaths are created equal.

That is a valuable lesson in life to learn. One that Danny learns when he is eleven years old, standing in the pit of his parents’ creation; the culmination of their life’s work. The portal to the other side, the realm of the dead. To the infinite. 

He learns that when he’s eleven years old, in a hazmat suit that sags on him, and boots that clunk when he walks because the only ones that fit are his mom’s, and even those are too big. In gloves that he has to clench his fists in because otherwise they fall off. In goggles that slide down his nose even when he’s tightened them the farthest they can go. 

He learns that when he’s eleven years old, choking on giggles that harmonize with the laughter of his friends’ who stand at the mouth of the tunnel. Sam’s holding a polaroid in her hand. They’re just being kids. 

They’re not laughing when Danny’s hand hits the safety lock — the one with faulty wiring, the only one in the tunnel. The only one he could possibly hit. They’re not laughing when the portal buzzes to life, and the lights inside switch on row by row as the generator begins to rumble and hum. 

They’re not laughing when Danny dies. They’re screaming. They’re not screaming when he comes back.

Not all deaths are created equal.  

Some are poetic, beautiful. The satisfying close of a book as it comes to an end, of the hardback thumping soft against the pages like the sound of a door closing. A train run its course.

Some are violent; unsatisfying; unfair. The unexpected shattering of an egg as it rolls off the countertop when nobody is looking, the unmistakable crack as it falls to the floor. It is abrupt and messy. 

But most are just… unremarkable. Unintentional. Clumsy. 

Danny’s family dies one night in late January. He is thirteen years old, barely a month away from fourteen. It is unforeseen. It is preventable. It happens. 

It happens like this: 

Their water heater breaks one Monday in January. It’s old, sitting in the garage, and has dealt with nearly sixteen years of Fenton-grade chaos and shenanigans. Of parents tossing scraps and junk into the garage as brief storage to come back to later. Of illegal tune-ups on their vehicles that result in something exploding. Of little children running around and knocking things over, playing with poles and sticks they find on the ground, on the shelves. Of being lived and used.  

Something had to give. 

Jack Fenton notices it immediately when he comes upstairs that very afternoon — his children at school, his wife downstairs — to grab something from the garage. The very same scrap and used material they store like squirrels to use later. 

He stops what he’s doing to fix it.  

It wasn’t supposed to be permanent. 

Despite what many believe, Jack Fenton is not the idiot people make him out to be. He knows what he’s good at, he knows what he’s not. He knows he can be passionate and obsessive and single-minded about things. He knows that he is a scientist, an inventor; an engineer. 

He knows that he is not a plumber. That fixing water heaters is not something he knows how to do, not safely. And he loves his family. What he does is only meant to be temporary — a fix meant to only last a few days until they can call someone in who can fix it for them. 

So Jack Fenton futzes with the water heater, gives it a temporary stitch to last a short while, and reminds himself to call a plumber later that day to come in and fix it. He turns and leaves the garage with the part he came for —  a sheet of metal for his wife to melt down — and disappears back downstairs. 

He does not make that call; it slips from his mind. 

It is not his fault. 

One day passes, then two, then suddenly it is Thursday. The water heater has still not been fixed, the water heater has been forgotten. It is nobody’s fault.  

Danny asks his parents at breakfast if he can stay over at Tucker’s house for the night. Just one night. They’re going to study for their math test and then play video games until midnight, but he only tells his parents that first half. 

He’s been doing well in school. Really well — better than he has in a while. There’s been a delightful lull in ghost appearances for the last few weeks. The living don’t know why, but Danny does. The Winter Truce always calms the dead down for a while, something about how the Zone cleanses itself twice a mortal year and that fresh wave of ecto clears out the old and brings in the new. 

This year Danny got to participate. He’s feeling the effects of it too, and he’s been sleeping consistently well for the first time since the accident. 

It’ll never happen again. 

His parents agree under the condition that he doesn’t stay up late, and Danny harmlessly lies through his teeth and agrees. He goes and throws overnight clothes into his school backpack, and when he leaves for school with Jazz his parents are already departed into the lab. 

The last conversation he has with his sister is in her car on the drive to school. Inane, mindless conversation to fill the air and pass the time. Jazz comments on how relaxed he’s been lately; Danny tells her about the Winter Truce. She listens in rapt attention. 

She tells him that she’s glad to see him so well-rested. She thinks her little brother’s been growing up too fast these days. She thinks he’s been too tense. Too caught up with the spinning of the world around him that he forgets about himself sometimes. 

When they reach school, before Danny can get out of the car, Jazz looks to her little brother and says; “I love you.” 

Her little brother’s cheeks turn an embarrassed shade of red. He makes a scrunched up, grossed-out face, but can’t hide the smile pulling across it. “Don’t be a sap, Jazz. I’ll see you later.” He tells her, yanking his hood up over his head. She hears the bashful, ‘love you too’ before he walks away. 

That is the last conversation she ever has with her brother. 

Thursday is unremarkable, passing by in its normality as it always does. There’s one, maybe two ghost sightings; shades lurking around in curious infancy that are easily spooked away by the presence of a greater being. Danny doesn’t even have to go ghost. 

Thursday evening is even less so. Danny goes to Tucker’s house — Sam has a prior arrangement with her slam poetry club — and the two of them study for an hour before they toss their textbooks aside and reach for the game console. 

Danny sleeps in Tucker’s room with one of the extra blankets on his bed, curled across the room in one of the bean bag chairs. It shouldn’t be comfortable, but to Danny it is. He sleeps throughout the night, the portal shut down by his parents before they’d gone to bed. 

Early Friday morning, before the sun has even risen yet, before it’s even so much as a concept to grace the horizon, the water heater breaks again. It was supposed to be fixed. 

Carbon monoxide is a silent killer. Odorless and scentless, it kills within minutes. It fills the house like a shadow casting over the ground, creeping into the rooms. 

Danny’s family die in their sleep; painless and unaware. 

It’s not Jack Fenton’s fault. He didn’t mean to.  

Nobody wakes up with their alarms. 

Danny wakes up to Tucker Foley’s alarm on Friday morning, and he turns his head intangible and shoves it into the beanbag chair like an ostrich hiding its head in the sand. Tucker gets up before him, and throws a pillow at him as he reaches for the alarm. 

There’s laughter, messing around. The both of them get dressed, and Danny has breakfast with the Foleys that morning. He takes the bus to school with Tucker, and they meet Sam by their lockers. 

To him, everything is as normal as it should be. There are no ghosts for him to fight right now, school is as school does, and he’s on top of all his schoolwork. 

He does not see Jazz at all that morning, he doesn’t notice. Their schedules are so different, their routes on different paths, that it’s not uncommon for Danny to not see Jazz until he gets home some days. That’s if there’s no ghost attacks. 

At lunch, he gets approached by her friends. Worried creases between their brows, they ask him if he’s seen Jazz. She hasn’t shown up to any of her classes. She’s not answering their texts. It’s unprecedented of her; unheard of. 

Danny doesn’t admit to the concern that swells in his gut when they tell him this. He shrugs at them, and says he hasn’t seen her either. But it was probably nothing to worry about; she might just be sick and sleeping it off. 

He offers to text her and let them know if he gets a response, and that seems to ease her friends enough that they shuffle away in uncertainty. He keeps his word, and does exactly that. He pulls out his phone and opens her contact, and shoots her a message.

‘Where are you?’ 

He doesn’t get a response back, Danny is left on sent. He puts his phone in his pocket, and with a sense of unease creeping in the back of his mind, goes on with his day. He gets no response by the time the final bell rings; and he tries not to be worried. 

The house is quiet when he opens the door. Unusually quiet. He drops his backpack to the floor, it lands with a hearty thunk, and begins to take off his jacket. “Mom! Dad!” He yells. He hangs it up, and slips his shoes from his feet. “Jazz skipped school today!”

A laughable untruth that would get his sister all riled up normally; she should be able to hear him from the front door if she was in her room. The house just stays dead silent. 

He can’t even hear the usual banging and crashing from the lab. His unease returns. He reaches for the intercom that leads directly down to the basement, and presses the button to turn it on. A burst of static, and then he speaks;

“Mom? Dad?” 

Danny lets go, and waits for a response. He gets none back. That never happens, not when the house is this quiet. Not when he knows they should’ve heard him. 

Something sickly and fearful borns in the pit of his stomach, and begins to snake upward. He heads for the lab. The cool metal of the door is familiar in the grooves of his hand, and he doesn’t even need to think about the code as he punches it in;  he simply lets muscle memory guide him. It’s been the same since he was little. 

The door hisses as the pressure is released, and he swings the door open. He takes the stairs down two at a time. Something is wrong. His parents aren’t answering him. His feet pound against the metal. 

“Mom? Dad?” He calls again, more worried, more frantic. More scared. His voice echoes down the stairwell, and he reaches the bottom before it’s fully faded. The lab is empty. The portal is still shut down. 

It was four in the afternoon, they should still be down here. 

Danny races back upstairs, fear-raised nausea coiling in his throat. “This isn’t funny you guys!” He yells when he reaches the top, shoving open the door with more force than necessary. His head swims, his voice cracked. 

He checks the garage, the car is still there. 

“Mom!? Dad!” His voice bellows out throughout the first floor, loud enough that it bounces back at him and rings against his ears. He’s never raised his voice this much — mom would scold him if she heard him. But she doesn’t show up. “Jazmine!” 

Finally, he goes upstairs, and he can’t tell if what he’s feeling is anger or terror. Something is very, very wrong. 

He swings the door of his parents’ rooms open first, and there they are, with the lights still off and the curtains still drawn. As if they hadn’t left their bed all day. Some of Danny’s fear lifts from his shoulders just by the sight of them, but he’s still trembling. Something is still wrong — the room smells… off. Not good, not bad. Just… off. 

He swallows dryly, his throat still thick, and steps into the room. “Mom, dad?” They do not stir. “Didn’t you guys hear me yelling?” 

There is only room static. Danny’s heart shrivels in his chest with a tenfold return of terror, he feels ill. He remembers, just now, that they’re not heavy sleepers, and his dad should be snoring like a freight house. 

Danny reaches their bedside in seconds, hand outstretching for the covers, “Momma? Dad?”

Not all deaths are created equal. 

But many of them are accidental. Unmeditated. Shocking.

Danny Fenton finds his family dead in his childhood home. He runs to his neighbors in hysterics, inconsolable, in tears. Nine-one-one is called, but there is nothing that can be done. They were dead for hours by the time Daniel Fenton returned home. 

He sits on the front steps of the neighbor’s house beside FentonWorks, his jeans slowly becoming wet from the snow that was unable to be scraped off, and watches the paramedics cart out his family beneath white sheets. There are police cars blocking off the street, yellow tape blocking off his house, red-blue lights lighting up the block, an ambulance on the scene. He is wrapped in a shock blanket, and he is missing his jacket and his shoes. His tears are freezing onto his face, he can’t feel the chill. 

Not all deaths are created equal

But all of them are unforgettable. 

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

THERE WAS NO PLACE IN NATURE WE COULD MEET ; SUGURU GETO

synopsis; it’s never fun to run into an ex; especially when the ex in question is your unfairly handsome high school sweetheart. and just so happens to also be a wanted mass murderer.

word count; 3.3k

contents; suguru geto/reader, gn!reader, geto-typical angst, exes to [redacted], lots of longing, geto is kind of a cunt but also disgustingly charming, reader is understandably upset, biblical imagery (i just think he’s so serpent coded), curse user geto is his own warning tbh

a/n; i wanted this to be a drabble so bad but it ended up just a little too long for me to get away w it so … :’3 yeah. i hate suguru geto (said w affection)

the moon is out.

in the shadows of the street corner you find yourself in, seated comfortably on the sidewalk, it’s a welcome distraction. something to look at, in the midst of your loneliness; the evanescent glow of the moon, illuminating your solitude.

a solitude soon to be broken. shattered into pieces, battered and bruised beyond recognition, jagged shards littering the asphalt. digging into the soles of your shoes.

”hey.”

for a second, you think you must be dreaming.

the figure obscuring the light of the lamp post in front of you is familiar. too familiar, a little too dear for your liking. as you grasp your shitty cup ramen, seeking the warmth seeping through the polystyrene, all you can do is stare. blinking dumbly, drowsily.

geto looks something like a bad omen.

sharp facial features, even sharper eyes. so dark they almost shift from an amber-tainted cedar into an obsidian black — two abysses, staring into your soul, beckoning you closer. they were always enchanting, but now you think they look almost hypnotizing. not at all in a good way. dark hair frames his face, cascading down his back, longer than you remember it being. and he’s wearing robes.

still has those fucked up bangs, though. of all the things to keep.

the gears of your mind turn, endlessly, untangling the mess of thoughts inside your brain. ensuring you that no, you are not hallucinating, and no, you didn’t fall into a deep slumber somewhere between the moment you exited the convenience store and sat down by one of tokyo’s empty street corners. this is real. a reality you can’t comprehend, can’t even begin to process.

what stands in front of you is a ghost. but ghosts don’t exist, can’t be seen, can’t touch the living.

(so how is he able to haunt you like this?)

what eventually jolts you out of your silent stupor is not the questioning tilt of his head, nor the suffocating sensation of your heart crawling up your throat, but the feeling of soft fur against your leg. the stray cat you met further down the street meows at you, sweetly, trying to get your attention. you think she must be asking for more grilled fish.

so, completely ignoring the apparition in front of you, you turn to reach for the little plastic bag you bought as a midnight snack — digging out a bit of fish for the kitty to enjoy. she seems happy, settling down by your feet. purring softly.

geto watches, eerily silent. 

(maybe he’s upset that you’re ruining his dramatic entrance. you hope so.)

finally, you have no choice but to look at him. a lump forms in the back of your throat, clogging up a little more for every second spent falling into the trap he’s laid out for you, trailing over his moonlit features with your tired gaze.

mouth full of noodles, staring holes into his attire, you narrow your eyes. suddenly disgruntled.

his lips quirk up. ”something the matter?” he asks, and you can’t even begin to describe how much you hate his voice. how devastatingly deep it is, during the late hours of the night, even deeper than it was back in high school. 

slurping up the soggy noodles, you lean back a little, licking some broth off your lips. finally meeting those abyssal eyes. 

”… i was gonna say those robes look like shit on you,” comes an exhale, weary, ”but you actually kinda pull them off. that’s…” 

a beat. you struggle to find the right word. 

”annoying.”

geto’s lips curl up, smoothly, and you find a hint of familiar amusement in the vague crinkle of his eyes. barely visible crows’ feet. then he’s moving — plopping down right beside you, robes fluttering with the breeze.

”well, thank you.” he hums; crossing his legs.

the silence that festers around you is odd. not quite suffocating, nor especially fragile. definitely not comforting. it’s familiar, yet different, and it hurts a bit more than it should. but you choose to look at him, out of the corner of your eye, and he looks right back at you. still smiling that eerie smile.

when your eyes settle on the particular cloth wrapped around his torso, you just barely manage to bite back a taunting chuckle.

”a gojo-kesa, huh?” you grin, and geto doesn’t flinch. he doesn’t miss the meaningful glint in your eyes, either. ”you miss him that much?”

”just a coincidence,” is all he answers. smiling, but you think it looks a little stiff.

your grin widens, for a second, before settling back down. a sad transition. you let it go. 

”whatever you say, geto.”

at that, he visibly reacts. barely noticeable, but it’s there — a twitch of his lithe fingers, an unknown something that flickers through the scope of his iris. when he looks at you, a neutral smile is playing at his lips. 

”ah. i take it we’re not on first name basis anymore, then?” he asks, casually, hiding a tinge of something mildly displeased.

a shrug. you pick at what’s left of your ramen with your chopsticks, a little too nauseous to enjoy it. ”call me what you want. i just don’t see suguru when i look at you, y’know?” leaning forward, you begin to pet the kitty by your feet. ”he was sweeter.”

geto smiles. almost a grin, but not quite there. a chuckle spills out from his lips, and something about it irritates you. ”was he?”

”yeah,” you nod. without hesitation. a summer-stained memory blooms behind your eyelids, but you try not to look at it. all you catch is a glimpse of cherry blossoms. ”you just seem bitter.” 

the grin that finds its way onto your lips is self-deprecating. a shadow falls over your face.

”guess we’re in the same boat, huh?”

a hum buzzes in his throat. he casts a meaningful glance towards your hand, scratching behind the cat’s ear. ”oh, i don’t know about that.” his smile grows with the drawl. ”.. you seem just as sweet as always.”

to your grave annoyance, you can’t control the way your face changes at his words. a twitch of your lips gives away your discontentment, and something sour settles on the tip of your tongue.

(your blood begins to boil, beneath your skin.)

geto sighs, suddenly, filling the tense silence between you — a little theatrical. ”ah, but that’s a shame.” he turns to you, soft pout playing at his lips. ”i was hoping i could hear you call me suguru again…”

”— i was hoping you’d come back.”

a beat.

somewhere outside your vision, a crow takes flight into the night sky. swallowed by darkness, melting into that sea of black. no longer perceivable, by you or the world.

”but you never did,” the polystyrene of the plastic cup crinkles beneath your fingers. your eyes look dull. ”so what the fuck do you want, exactly?”

…

”i heard.” geto rests his jaw on the heel of his palm, gazing at you with those piercing eyes. like he’s trying to see inside your brain. ”… about your decision.”

”ah,” a grin splits across the curve of your lips, showing off the white of your teeth. ”of course. that’s what this is about, huh?”

with groggy movements, you throw away your nearly-empty cup of noodles, haphazardly aiming towards a trash can across the street. it bounces off the steel cover, landing on the ground with a soft thud. leftover broth spilling out across the pavement. geto doesn’t bother to hide his amusement, lips twitching upwards before he sends a curse to eat it from the asphalt.

you furrow your brows in embarrassed annoyance.

a moment passes, and something in you knows that he’s waiting. it’s like you can practically sense it, like it’s etched into your bones. the same way you always knew exactly when he would begin to get impatient during your nightly convenience store runs back in high school — after you had spent about ten solid minutes struggling to decide what kind of chips you wanted. 

”what can i say?” you lean back, palms against rough concrete, breathing in the midnight air. ”you inspired me.”

geto tilts his head. smiling. always, always smiling. he smiled at you the day before he massacred that village, too. ”oh?”

with a deep breath, cool air courses through your body. burning your lungs. ”i realized being a sorcerer is completely fucking meaningless,” you exhale through your nose. ”and that trying to change that fact is even more meaningless.” 

a wicked, rueful grin rests on your lips. ”so i left.”

geto doesn’t say anything. you continue, voice dripping with venom.

”i’m a civilian now,” you purr, mocking, a sardonic coo on your tongue. ”does that bother you? feel like killing me?”

…

his smile looks a little off, now. tilted in a direction you don’t want to recognize. you don’t care to examine it further, don’t care to figure out if it might look just a little bit sad, because that’d only hurt more.

so you look away.

a click of his tongue. then he speaks, with that honeyed voice, raspy and husky. almost a groan. ”well, i can’t say i approve.”

he’s looking at you. sharp eyes digging into your skin, dissecting you, a million words he expects you to grasp from that look alone.

”you’re better than them,” he states, matter-of-factly, and you try not to squirm when his eyes trail over your features. ”worlds better.” his voice sounds almost motherly, a twisted concern that makes you cower a little. like he’s scolding you. a crease between his brows.

”i don’t like the thought of you surrounded by these animals.”

a huff pushes past your lips, but it sounds shakier than you’d like it to. you hope he just chalks it up to the chill of the air. then again, when has he ever made anything easy for you?

”what, you got a problem with cats now?” you reach for the little furball licking grilled fish off the concrete, picking it up. cradling it close. ”gonna go on a cat-killing spree?”

an amused exhale. geto narrows his eyes. ”funny,” he hums, but his eyes say you know what i mean.

it takes you a moment to regain control over your breathing. there’s still something tense in your shoulders, and your heart still feels a little like it might jump out of your throat and crawl into his lap. the stray cat slips from your grasp, moving towards geto, curiously sniffing at his robes. he looks at it with no ill intent, and it puts you at ease.

”well, i appreciate the concern, buddy,” you pat his back, trying not to flinch at the contact. trying to appear relaxed. ”but frankly, i don’t give a shit. i actually like my job, unlike literally every single sorcerer on planet earth.”

geto stills.

”.. buddy?” he echoes, ignoring every other bitter word you just graced him with. for some reason, he actually seems visibly bothered. ”i’m buddy now?”

you click your tongue. muttering, tiredly. a little exasperated. ”.. what else would you be?”

and then he smiles, again. only this time, it looks oddly genuine. the same as you remember, framed by cherry blossoms and the fizzle of youth.

his movements are smooth. like he’s completely unguarded, like this situation doesn’t bother him in the slightest. elegant, in the way he leans back, palms on the concrete to support his weight. keeping eye contact with you, all the while.

when he speaks, his voice has a sweet tinge to it. nostalgic, maybe. wistful. if you hear a touch of longing, you choose to ignore it.

”i seem to recall you calling me baby quite a lot,” he hums, and you stiffen. gritting your teeth. eyes darkening, but he continues. ”what else was there? angel, i think… it was sweet.”

then he’s leaning forward. scratching the cat under its chin, gently. ”ironic, though.”

an inhale. then, an exhale. they’re a little shaky, a little meek, but at least they make the lump in your throat feel less like it’s blocking your windpipe. air fills your lungs, but it tastes like nothing at all. 

something like sorrow simmers in your eyes. or maybe more like fatigue. god, you really want to cry.

(you wonder if he gets some sickening satisfaction out of seeing you like this, out of breaking you. maybe it just makes him feel rotten. you don’t know what you’d prefer.)

”suguru,” you murmur, at last. voice dripping with exhaustion. defeated, the sigh that flows from your lips. ”why did you come here?”

…

”join me.”

the words spill out into the open air, slicing the silence in half. heavy. a request, not a question. against your better judgement, you turn your head to meet his gaze.

”we could use you,” he says, and there’s hope in those keen eyes. he maintains his distance, but for some reason you still feel like prey being sized up by a predator. like he’s weighing your value.

a chuckle slips from your lips, but there’s no humour to it. ”use me…” you echo, a tired murmur under your breath. ”you're just straight up admitting it, huh? kinda refreshing.”

”that’s not what i meant.”

he inches closer. slowly, as if trying not to scare you. reaching out, to brush through your bangs, his fingertips ghosting over your skin. tangling them between your locks, inserting himself into your space. testing the waters. 

you don’t look at him, completely still. barely breathing. like a wounded animal.

”i want you there,” he says, and it comes out almost as a whisper. ”with us.”

unable to resist the temptation, you indulge in a single brief glance his way. his eyes look warm, and his lips look soft as they part.

”with me.” 

there’s a devotion to his voice when he continues, one he’s always had. one you thought you’d always be able to trust. ”i’ll create a world where you can be happy,” he vows. ”i swear it.”

a moment passes.

(you swallow thickly. it takes everything you have not to burst into tears. when you remember how he brushed you off, back then, it gets a little easier. when you remember all the skipped meals.)

”.. like you give a damn.”

geto smiles. you loathe how soft it looks, how similar it is to the one suguru always had. when you used to eat your ramen too quickly and started choking on it, and he brought a palm to your upper back, patting it gently. he’d chuckle, and tell you to slow down, and the softness of his smile would almost be enough to distract you from the amusement in his eyes. 

”my love.”

you flinch. breath drawing back at the base of your throat, heart screeching to a halt, and some part of you emerges; the shy, sweet kid you used to be. hanging on to his every world. like he was your sun, your guiding light. back when that purr of my love had you blushing furiously, not choking back a string of curses.

it’s sudden, and you can’t react the way you want to. you want to kill him for calling you that. for thinking he has any right to call you his, anymore.

but that sweet, naive, innocent little kid still exists. even if you want to pretend otherwise. it’s there, somewhere, that part of you — peeking out from behind the curtain. and it stops you from saying anything that might hurt him.

(it’s so hard to hate him when he calls you that.)

if geto notices your inner turmoil — he must — then he doesn’t mention it. you don’t say anything, but you hope the amused, harsh exhale you partake in is signal enough for him to cut it off. now.

yet he continues. there’s love in his voice when he speaks, barely contained. if he’s trying not to hurt you he’s doing an awful job.

”… i never stopped thinking of you,” he whispers, so low you almost miss it. ”not once. i left for you, not just for myself.”

and, despite every part of your being resisting it, a sweetness settles on your tongue. so sweet it’s sickening; the thought that maybe he’s telling the truth, maybe he really has been thinking of you. maybe you’re more to him than just a means to meet an end, or a memory yet to be buried.

geto looks at the moon. bathed in moonlight, he looks a little like a god. like something reverent. his voice is honeyed. low, like a secret.

”this world doesn't deserve you.”

silence.

a subtle anger trickles through your veins, a kind of fury, subdued, carefully tucked away. sparking to life inside the depths of your eyes when you look at him. bitter, given everything. but your voice still comes out sounding something like a plea.

”and you think you do?”

another smile. this time, it looks a little sad. remorseful, maybe. ”… let me prove myself.”

his touch burns. the pads of his fingers against your cold skin, cupping your cheek. slithering down to grasp your hand. and you’re pliant, unable to react. just sitting with that aching hollow feeling in your chest.

”i wasn’t worthy, back then,” he hums, bringing your hand to his lips. ”but now…”

a kiss to your knuckle. featherlight. reverent. you try not to shiver, but when he says your name, dragging each syllable out, like they belong on his tongue —

a chill runs down your spine.

when he speaks, you feel his warm breath on your skin. it’s dizzying. ”i’m not the same suguru you once knew,” he admits, a forlorn look in his eyes. and devotion, frighteningly sincere. ”unlike him — i’ll never let you go.”

what a twisted desire. he wants to take you with him, drag you down to hell. the suguru you knew wouldn’t put you through that. but maybe you’re even more twisted, for wishing he had; for wishing he had taken you with him, ten years ago, instead of leaving without a single goodbye.

geto’s voice is soft. coaxing, like he's handling a frightened mouse. join me, he whispers, and you think of eve. when you look at his mouth you think you see serpents’ teeth behind his lips.

(you're almost sure he notices it. and you're almost sure his smile widens, lips curling up, as if preparing to open his maw and swallow you whole.)

a sickening sense of resignation roots itself somewhere in your gut. 

you pull your hand away, and he lets you. the loss of warmth hits you like a freight train, but you aren’t sure you could think clearly with his skin on yours. when you part your lips to speak, only air comes out, just barely forming a sentence. like there are no more words to say. like the world stopped spinning around you both a lifetime ago.

”i don't love you.”

…

for just a second, his smile falters. 

”no?” he hums, and you wish it didn’t hurt so bad to see him hurt. his eyes carry a kind of patience, something gentle. ”it’s fine… these things take time.”

a bitter chuckle. ”like you’d know anything about waiting,” you spit, and it comes out sounding venomous. a phantom ache sprouts in the spot where his lips touched your skin.

geto closes his eyes.

”you don't need to love me,” he says, finally. kind. you hate that he still sounds so kind. so understanding, like nothing you do could be wrong in his eyes. ”as long as you're beside me, that's enough.” 

he turns to look at you, and his smile looks very real, for a moment. impossibly fond. ”i have two daughters. i’ve told them about you,” he smiles. ”my family… you’d like them. i know they’d like you.”

dark clouds cover the moon, suddenly, and a shadow falls across you both. illuminated only by the streetlight. in the distance, you hear a car whooshing by.

”don’t stay at the bottom,” he beckons, and your name slips from his lips again. soft, his tongue bending around the vowels. coaxing. stirring your heartstrings like a puppeteer.

then he’s standing up, dusting off his robes, large hands smoothing down the fabric. turning around, towering over you; obscuring everything else. all you see is him, under the glow of the lamp post. a halo of artificial light.

”come. let me show you the world we can create.”

he gives you a sweet smile, two abysses gazing into you. the promise of something twisted, new, forbidden. you think of red skin and yellow flesh; the bite of sin.

and for a second, you see it. the world. a world where laughter comes from the bottom of your gut, and the trees are always ripe for picking, red apples hanging from the branches like glowing rubies. a world where sweetened fruit never give way to rot.

paradise.

geto stretches a hand out towards you. fingers unfurling, one by one, like a blooming camellia. close, right there in front of you, so close that you’re tempted to take his hand in yours, let him carry you away. burn everything else to the ground. 

(you think of the serpent. you think of god.

only one of them banished eve.)

”so,” he smiles. ”what do you say?”

[art-is-kayos]

x box got me thinking of the manager but like as an actual xbox

It is very possible in that at least one loop Angela has fucked with the cognition filter in X's head.

Alternatively:

[pitchblackespresso]

Compilation of all my botw/totk comics in loose chronological order. The comics are standalone but follow the same continuity:

Repayment

Kass Remembers

A Grave Visit

Well-Studied

Lovers' Pond

Cooking Lessons

Dondon Origins (Dondon pt 1)

Perspective (Dondon pt 2)

Scientific Method (Dondon pt 3)

Not Her

Underpants Method

I will update the post as I make more comics (of which there inevitably will be).

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

Charlie: (folded up and hunched over with chin in hands) (brooding)

Vaggie: "Someone's got a lovely long face today."

Charlie: (sighs) "Sorry..."

Vaggie: "Don't be, sweetie." (sits and hunches over too, hands clasped) "What's got you down?"

Charlie: "You, kinda."

Vaggie: "Me?" (terrified) "What did-"

Charlie: "And all this." (waves at vaggie next to her) "Specifically."

Vaggie: (edges away) "Is it the 'sweetie' thing? 'Cause I'll stop-"

Charlie: "No. No, I like it." (sighs again) "Vaggie, in the wonderful, amazing, dream-like over a YEAR we've known each other now, have you ever, like..."

Vaggie: (edging closer again) "...have I ever...?"

Charlie: "Killed anyone?"

Vaggie: "Wh- No!"

Charlie: "Not even a little?"

Vaggie: "What would 'killed them a little' even look like..? I mean, sure I've thought about maiming people, and probably would've a few times if you hadn't been there, but-"

Charlie: "What about when I wasn't looking? No... sneaking out for some midnight murder sprees?"

Vaggie: "Charlie- I can't even get up to use the bathroom without you tearing up half the bed with your claws looking for me. We've had to get new sheets three times this month. And last time I took a midnight shower, I found you curled up on the floor just outside the door afterwards. I almost STEPPED on you!"

Charlie: (pouting) "You were gone when I woke up."

Vaggie: "I was gone maybe ten minutes."

Charlie: "And I was missing you."

Vaggie: "Yeah. I figured." (smiles) "So how the fuck am I supposed to be sneaking out to kill people, when I'm best friends with the biggest cuddle bug in all creation?"

Charlie: "I don't know!" (frustrated) "NONE of this makes any SENSE!"

Vaggie: ".... now I feel like I'm missing something."

Charlie: "You're not though! That's why-" (GROWLS) (yanks at hair)

Vaggie: "Okay, hey- Charlie?" (takes her hand) "Talk to me?"

Charlie: "....."

Charlie: "...why're you still here?"

Vaggie: "Do you... want me to move out?"

Charlie: "NO! Never! I, you- I don't even know how I'd-"

Vaggie: "So that's not the problem here. What is?"

Charlie: "The PROBLEM is- I want you here, but you shouldn't BE here! You're not a bad person! Whatever you did or used to do- you haven't been for a whole YEAR, and I'm just- just being stupid and selfish wanting you to stay, but you-"

Vaggie: "You're not-"

Charlie: "-aren’t doing anything bad! So WHY-"

Vaggie: "Charlie, hold on- no- you're not stupid or selfish. You've been alone, and that's not something you did anything to deserve, okay?"

Charlie: "...."

Vaggie: "You can be sad without apologizing for it too, you know."

Charlie: (slumping) "Why are you still in hell, Vaggie?"

Vaggie: (wryly) "Not like I've got wings to flutter off with."

Charlie: "You deserve them."

Vaggie: "..... thanks for saying so, sweetie."

Charlie: "It's true."

Vaggie: “Pretty sure it’s not, since I don’t have them.”

Charlie: “You should. You should have them.”

Vaggie: “I’d rather have this.”

Vaggie: (lifts their hands)

Vaggie: “Who needs wings, when you’ve got the best cuddle bug ever. Right?”

Charlie: (holds tight) “…heaven’s probably better. Full of people you wouldn’t want to even maim. That’s where you belong, not down here in hell…”

Vaggie: “…with you?”

Charlie: “Oh I’d be fine!”

Vaggie: (lifts brow)

Charlie: “Really!” (looks away) “It’d be good. Knowing you’re up there in heaven, and, happy.”

Vaggie: “I wouldn’t be happy.”

Charlie: “Sure you would.” (miserable) “It’s heaven.”

Vaggie: “Hell’s better. It’s where you are.”

Charlie: “Vaggie…”

Vaggie: “Charlie.”

Charlie: “Be serious? Please?”

Vaggie: “I am. But it's not gonna work if you don’t listen to it.”

Charlie: “Fine.”

Charlie: (deep breath) (looks vaggie in the eye)

Charlie: “Vaggie. Do you want me to try getting you into heaven?”

Vaggie: “No.”

Charlie: (voice crack) “Are you SURE?”

Vaggie: “I’m not going anywhere. I’d miss you too much.”

Charlie: “...okay.”

Charlie: (laughs wetly) “Okay. I’d. Same.”

Vaggie: “Yeah.”

Vaggie: (dabs away charlie’s tears)

Vaggie: “You’ve been feeling extra lonely haven' you, thinking about all that on your own.”

Charlie: “Maybe. A little.”

Vaggie: “…sorry I didn’t, you know. Make sure you knew sooner. ”

Charile: (laughs for real) “Don’t be. Not like I asked.”

Vaggie: (smiles) “Sorry for making you feel like you even had to ask.”

Charlie: “Um. Uh.” (clears throat) “You’re forgiven?”

Vaggie: (chuckles)

Charlie: “…and, you’ll tell me, if you change your mind? About the whole heaven thing?”

Vaggie: “I won’t change my mind, Charlie.”

Charlie: “But if you do, you’ll say so?”

Vaggie: “Mmm, kinda feels like you’re saying it like you think I will.”

Charlie: “No. I mean you can, I just… don’t wanna worry about it like this again.”

Vaggie: “Oh. Then I promise-”

Charlie: “Thank you.”

Vaggie: “-if you promise me you’ll let me know what’s going on in that brilliant head of yours.”

Charlie: “Pfft- More silly than brilliant. Didn’t wanna bother you.”

Vaggie: “Bother me? Now you're really sounding silly. You’re not the only one who’s been lonely.”

Charlie: “Huh? You? Why were you- Ohhh…”

Vaggie: “You’ve been a million miles away lately. Welcome back.”

Charlie: “Aww Vaggie! Were you missing me, even when I was right in front of you???”

Vaggie: “Don’t even.”

Charlie: “That’s so cuuuute~”

Vaggie: “Don't. You've been worse. You were impersonating a rug- You clung on so hard after I picked you up I couldn’t even get the blankets over us again.”

Charlie: “Lucky I make a good blanket!”

Vaggie: “The best. But you still gotta stop sleeping in front of the bathroom door.”

Charlie: “I can, try?”

Vaggie: “Is it really that hard to stay in a warm soft bed?”

Charlie: “It is when you’re not there!”

Vaggie: “Sweetie, please. I’ll be coming right back.”

Charlie: “…then I can wait.”

Vaggie: “Good.”

Charlie: "...."

Charlie: “Probably. I think I can probably wait.”

Vaggie: “Ugghh...”

Vaggie: (playfully bumps shoulders) (leans in as charlie hugs her instead)

[spruce-and-snow]

“Why did you go without me?! […] You KNOW what happens if you don’t have allies!”

-Grian, to Joel after he not only messed up a demise trap yet again, but also managed to kill himself in the process.

I am so normal about this. I am so normal about last life and limited life. I am so incredibly normal, but Grian can’t just go and say this after Joel’s desperate spiral in limited life. Or just how he get’s in the life series in general.

[sweeneydino]

Dragon lore...?

Idk I'm sure there's something comprehensive in here, I need to go to sleep this was killin me

If it helps, I was listening to me and my husband by mitski 👍:)

>:))

[plutoenjoyer]

Hii, how do you think the members would react when they realize that a friend of their crush also has a crush on her? I hope you understood me 😣

hi anon!!! thank you so much for being my first request<3 so sorry this took so long 😭 i hope you still enjoy though its so so late !!!

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

xdh — finding out about a friend's crush on you (+ confessing)

genre: fluff as always, light angst (i love to see a man in emotional turmoil) tags: drabble, ot6, female reader, jealousy/light possessiveness?, pining, starting as friends, friends to lovers, reader is shorter than them, confessions warnings: none note: reader is some sort of employee or person that works in their building or around the area for added context ... they see you often even if not directly working with them basically (vaguely gestures). and the friend is kiiiind of rude anyway so he doesnt deserve your time in the first place

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

gunil — tries to be respectful, succeeds. (and then fails)

perhaps he's very comfortable in his role as "the responsible one" as the eldest of the group. he tries to embody a role-model for his bandmates when he can, there's a very caring and deeply responsible part of him that naturally comes out. he is not known for being selfish. that being said, when he finds out one of your friends has a crush on you there is a deep urge in him to find you immediately and just confess all the feelings he's kept buried in him for months. it bothers him like mad, because he knows that he shouldn't get in the way of anything or anyone you might be vying for. what if you felt the same way about that friend? what if he made it difficult for you to choose him after confessing? what if he ruined his friendship with you when you didn't feel the same way? there were just so many uncertainties and not enough safety for his comfort, so he chose to suffer in silence, as he was used to doing.

there was a familiarity in being alone with his thoughts that he wasn't sure if he could find the courage to leave behind just yet.

he sits with this feeling for days. he tries to convince himself that he's simply content to see you at all, and wants to be happy for your happiness, though it is so clear to his bandmates that he's not his usual self lately.

it's not until he sees you with said friend that he can't help himself anymore. he hated that you were laughing with him, but he hated his lack of conviction more. he makes up his mind to tell you as soon as he gets the chance because the fear of rejection meant so much less to him than watching you get taken from him right before his eyes without doing anything about it.

and you—you're none the wiser about it all until gunil confronts you that night as you're heading home. the intense look on his face is something you've never seen before, passionate and desperate underneath the warm ambient light of the dimly lit room. it illuminates his face in a way that strikes through your heart. you always found him to be attractive, but tried not to let your feelings unfurl further since you knew that there was not a chance he'd feel the same way, not with all the projects and people he manages on a day to day basis. he was just too busy for romance. but right now in this moment, the way that his eyes are narrowed with a seriousness that you haven't seen from him before sends a shiver up your spine. and not just towards anyone, towards you.

he steps closer to you. you're basically backed up against the wall, your heart beating out of your chest. he's so close you finally get a good look at how his dark eyes are trying to find something in yours—answers. you can't help yourself from putting your hands on his chest and bicep to steady yourself.

"i... i have something to tell you." he speaks so lowly and so desperately it mixes in with the sound of his sharp breaths.

you can barely hear him because all you can focus on is the gentle curvature of his beautiful lips. he notices this, because with his hand he pulls your chin up in order to angle your face to meet his eyes, forcing you to see what sort of distress you've put him through.

for the first time in a long time he's wanted something, no, someone for himself, and you're about to find out what.

jungsu — tries to be respectful, fails immediately

jungsu is the sweetest guy ever. he's always looking out for others and wants the best for him. after finding out about your friend's crush on you, though, something takes over him. you wonder why he's suddenly being so much more attentive and sweet, way more than normal. comedically and somewhat pathetically (in a sopping wet dog with glassy eyes kinda way) offering to carry your things, buying you sweets, praising you—it was even a little much at times. you were starting to get a little annoyed, not because you didn't like it but because you were wondering why the hell he started acting like this out of nowhere.

it's not until you're out shopping with him that you start to connect the dots. you run into the friend-in-question and he sparks up a conversation with you, both of you completely unaware of the growing panic and jealousy growing in jungsu's mind.

to your surprise, the usually soft-spoken and patient guy interjects whatever you two were talking about and grabs your hand, hastily pulling you away into some other random store. at first you're worried that you did something to offend him, but then you notice the embarrassed pout on his face as you two slow down near some unassuming accessory store. he's chewing the inside of his cheek, wondering what possessed him to be so rude (he knows exactly why, he just couldn't stand watching you two get along and got swept up in his emotions). the people already in the store make some shifty glances at you two, some of the aunties even shaking their heads, going 'gosh, another lovers quarrel', but it doesn't reach your ears by how hard you're trying to figure him out right now. he has no explanation for himself, simply looking aimlessly at the assortment of necklaces on the racks and refusing to meet your eye. he doesn't let go of your hand.

"i-i'm sorry, i just ..." he's struggling so hard to find the words. he really should just come out and say it but that would mean confirming his feelings for you right here and now, and there was no way you'd accept considering what reckless thing he did just now. "you ... i just didn't want ..."

a beat of silence, and then a resounding 'oh' pops into your head as you finally realize that it was actually your friend that was the problem for him. you smile at his shaking visage. how cute.

what happens next is in your hands, the same ones that are fit so perfectly in his warm, nervous palms. you're glad the group of aunties left before you could do this.

the air feels electrifying. you pull him closer and stand on your tippy toes and he's watching you do this so adorably but it doesn't compute in his head until he finally feels the plush feeling of your lips against his, and suddenly he feels right again. this is what he's been waiting for this whole time.

gaon — gets clingy

jiseok has always been physically clingy. he shows his love and affection by quite literally hanging onto you, through hugs or wrapping his arm around yours. it is very casual and very natural for him to do that with people he loves. emotionally, however, he's a bit more withdrawn than expected. he likes his alone time. he likes you more. but, he is so painfully unaware of it. so when he finds out that your friend has a crush on you, the petty side of him that simmers at the surface of his mind really comes through without him doing it intentionally. it becomes an increasingly common occurrence for you to receive a text from him that goes along the lines of "are you busy friday? :)", or "there's a new movie i wanna see, can we hang soon?" because he thinks you'll genuinely enjoy what he had planned for you, and not because of any other reason.

this, of course, is his way of getting you away from that guy who's trying to get with you. honestly, he thinks he's boring and won't treat you right. there's really no one in your circle that he deems worthy for you.

you're more than happy to spend time with him. but it starts to get to a point where you're wondering 'what are we' when he starts to get a little more clingy, more so than his usual friendly self. his hands linger a little longer on yours, his eyes seem to follow your every move and he's smiling at you in a way that holds so much adoration that your heart starts beating faster.

when you text him that you can't hang because you feel bad you keep blowing off the friend-in-question, who had asked for your time today already, he sulks like crazy. he knows he shouldn't be so childish about it but it sucks because you're his best friend and you're wasting your time on him and he's going to confess to you and then you're gonna start dating each other and then you'll get married and go away forev—oh. oh man.

he quickly grabs his jacket and runs to your place before you can even think about leaving for your outing.

you see him show up to your front door and almost collapse to his knees, leaning an arm on the frame of your front door. "what the hell— jiseok?! are you okay?" and he's heaving so hard he can barely speak, "yeahi'mfineILOVE. YOU. ohgodmyribs. DON'T. GOTOHIM. i just. foundoutiloveyou. stay. right here". you can barely believe what he's saying, not only because he's huffing and puffing, but because you really had no idea he felt the same about you. the silence worries him because he looks up to see your confusion, or worse, hesitance, and through his labored breath and takes your hand in his. on one knee as if asking for your hand in marriage, "stay with me. please," and you can't help but laugh when it finally all clicks. this is such a dramatically jiseok way to profess feelings to someone. you're definitely gonna bring this up again.

but for now, with a bright smile, you give his hand a reassuring squeeze, "come in. let's get you some water."

o.de — kicks himself into action

finding out is a wake-up call to him. he kicks himself for getting complacent. it's not that he didn't think other guys would be into you or anything, just that he didn't think it would happen so soon. he put off his feelings for you constantly because he feared ruining things between you two, but now that there was another guy in your radar it meant that he had to be on high alert. he immediately starts thinking about the best way to confess to you, and fast because who knows if this guy is going to sweep you off your feet out of nowhere.

he's trying to plan something grand and a little cheesy because he thinks, no, knows that you deserve to be appreciated. he would yell his love for you from the rooftops if he could. he's thinking about it so much that you stop hearing from him for a couple days. his absence lingers in the air around you and you start to wonder why it feels so heavy without him around, because wasn't he just a friend?

you get your hopes up when your phone pings with a text—but it's not from seungmin. there's a dull ache in your heart when you see it's from the friend-in-question. you're disappointed but don't want to take it out on him, so you say yes to dinner. you go with him, and clearly he's trying to make a move on you by spoiling you with a nice meal and compliments, but you just can't get your mind off of seungmin and what he's doing right now. you end the date, which was more just like him talking at you, by rejecting him. you're wondering if he was just friends with you to try and get a chance with you, and it hurt a little.

then, it happens. your phone buzzes as you're about to leave the restaurant. it's seungmin. as soon as you pick up he sounds out of breath and desperate. "where are you right now?!" and you answer honestly, about the date and how it ended, and how you missed talking to him. "stay right there, i'm coming."

he picks you up from the restaurant, having drove there in a hurry. there's roses and chocolate on the dashboard as if he were going on a date himself and you know immediately who it's for by the look on his face and the slight sheen of sweat like he'd been worried sick about something.

there's not even a moment that passes while in the car before you both can't help yourselves anymore, having the first real taste of what you two felt for each other, sealed with a kiss.

junhan — withdraws himself

junhan has always been quiet, but you were starting to love getting to have late night conversations with him about life itself, your place in the the universe and who's your favorite character in dungeon meshi. he seemed to open up when he was around you and you loved getting to pick apart his mind. you felt that you both were able to keep up each other's intellectual abilities, and it was refreshing.

so when he suddenly reverts back to the shy personality he had when you first met him, you know something's wrong. you're trying to figure out how to confront him about it without making him curl back into his shell even more.

in his mind, on the other hand, he's doing you a favor. after finding out that your friend has a crush on you, the one that is so much more extroverted and good at holding up conversations, he thinks its best that he takes a step back so he wouldn't be taking up space in your life that could be reserved for your friend. he throws himself into work even more so than before, using it as an excuse to avoid you so it doesn't hurt as much when you inevitably start dating that stupid guy. but that doesn't mean he stops watching and analyzing, watching to see if that guy really, truly was good enough for you.

and of course, he wasn't. call it intuition or just plain logic, junhan noticed how he very often seemed to talk over you. it bothered him to know that there's a possibility that you'd be happier with your friend, but it bothered him more to think about you unhappy with him, because at least junhan would actually notice if you were.

that wouldn't do at all. while junhan is very rational he absolutely does not mess around when it comes to you. the friend-in-question is busy chatting away while you're forced to listen to him. you think he's a nice guy, but he was the type of person who was more used to talking at someone rather than to them. you never really felt heard when speaking to him, unlike with junhan who took every word you said into account, making sure you knew your thoughts mattered to him.

junhan, with tingling fingertips and an audacity that could only be stirred up by the thought of losing you, calmly walks up to you two. you wouldn't have guessed it took all his courage to ask "can we get drinks tonight?" and you're over the moon at the mere suggestion, "is that even a question?! of course, i haven't seen you around in ages!". your eyes light up with excitement, unable to stop yourself from excitedly rambling about how you really wanted to talk about some new manga that dropped during his absence. junhan smiles at you, half because he knows this feels right, like you both were meant to be together in this moment, and half because he loves the way that guy's stupid grin drops when he sees how happy you are to see him.

"so it's a date?" junhan says with a radiant smile, almost as if the guy standing next to you didn't exist. he was enjoying taunting this guy a little too much, he thinks to himself. your jaw drops a little at this unexpected confidence, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't want it to be. and so you shoot a quick, very obviously awkward glance at the so called 'friend', thinking about who you knew would treat you right, and turn back to say:

"it's a date."

jooyeon — makes it everyone's problem

when jooyeon finds out about your friend's crush on you he cannot stop from complaining about him to his bandmates. jiseok rolls his eyes hearing the groans from jooyeon, going for the millionth time this week that "he's just not right for her" and "he's not even good looking" and "she's way out of his league!" to lying in bed upside down with his head hanging off the edge groaning into his palms, "but what if she likes him though?! do you think she does?! is that why she hasn't been around lately? aghhhh, girls are so confusing. this sucks. wanna play league?" in which jiseok replies with a sigh, "dude, you could just text her and figure it out for yourself right now." and leaves before his head explodes from how much of a baby joo gets when he's frustrated about something.

when he's finally alone, jooyeon gets to sit alone with his thoughts. just pure and utter him, not the shining jooyeon on stage with his bass, and the thought of you, beautiful and kind, and how much he misses the sound of your pretty laugh. you're constantly on his mind. sometimes he finds himself idly smiling about some dumb text you sent him or the one time where you tried singing along to his strumming and it wasn't good but you gave it your all. it was just so you. you're his friend, yes, but he didn't realize how he felt something so much more for you until the idea of you not being around him anymore became a very real possibility.

the thought of you not being in his life wasn't even in the question for him. it breaks his heart to think of such a thing happening, that he wouldn't be the one making you happy but some other, boring, loser of a guy ... but he doesn't let the others know that part. deep down he's more insecure than he lets on. whatever exasperated complaining he lets out barely scratches the surface of the sort of emotional vortex swirling in him at this very moment thinking about you dating someone else.

when he sees you he makes it so unbelievably obvious, everyone around you two is betting on the moment that you finally realize. you're wrapping up your lunch together when he brings it up. "stoooop hanging out with him, he's boring and he only plays fps games, i mean come on," he's basically begging you like a kid.

you snort at him, "and you know almost every pokemon. he's not doing anything wrong, we all have things we really like." you're saying this to defend your point but in reality you also thought it was annoying that that was all he talked about with you and didn't seem to care about what you liked at all.

"yeah, well." jooyeon grumbles, pitifully tucking his head into the crook of his arm, leaning onto the table. he doesn't make eye contact with you, just pouting cutely. "heard he likes you, too... he's not special." the last part is almost unintelligible from the way he buries his head further into his arm as he says it.

that piques your interest. "oh? what was that? after the first part?" you know exactly what you heard but you just can't help yourself from teasing him.

"'ts nothing."

"joo." he refuses to meet your eyes but you see the tips of his ears reddening.

"i gotta get back to practice."

"joooooyeon. lee jooyeon. jooyeon of xdinary heroes. did i hear correctly? 'he's not special?'"

he's already walking off.

"joo, you know i'm going to the same place as you!" you shout after him. quickly, you shove your things into your bag and catch up to his rather hasty speed. you're giggling because you can read him like a book. that cute little pout on his face is all you need to see before you go to grab his hand mid step. he jolts a bit, not expecting your touch, before he eases into it and finally looks you in the eye.

"you ..."

shifting your hand so your fingers interlock, you smile at him, looking him in the eyes with earnest, "i like you, too."

in a few moments he's trying to stay cool and ends up failing miserably by how the corners of his mouth refuse to stay still. he can't help himself from breaking into a grin at those words. he would get to it later, be able to grandly profess his love to you like how he had imagined it going in his head, but for now he was content with this. simple and happy with your hand enveloped in his larger one.

it's by no means a scene out of a drama, but it was perfectly enough for the two of you.

(later that night jooyeon is so completely over the moon about being chosen. it feeds his ego BAD. you have to take him down a peg by telling him how he hasn't really properly confessed to you yet, and you are very entertained by how he stutters and struggles to say it to you directly after such a grand display of confidence. oh, joo ...)

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

masterlist | request rules | inbox

thank you for reading! <3

[imkazz]

mm my lil gen and gyo contribution to our latest episode

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Genya kneeled outside his master's door.

"Himejima-san!" Genya placed his hands gently on his knees, sitting up straight. The door was slightly ajar as Genya peeked inside to see the man's huge back. "I was about to cook dinner, since all the slayers who were training here have left as of today. Did you want anything specific?"

The Stone Hashira sat silently in his room. Genya swallowed. Himejima-san wasn't answering! Had Genya done something to upset him? Was it that he couldn't move the boulder five-chou yet? He was getting there!

"Genya." The hashira's deep voice soothed Genya for only a second. "I will be going out tonight. If you could prepare something for me to bring..."

Phew. Genya hadn't done anything! He nodded. "Of course, Himejima-san!"

Genya could hear a faint "namu-namu" as he shut the shoji door.

The two of them stood right outside the humble Stone Estate. The area around them was surrounded in trees, and the cicadas had started chirping right as the sun was setting. Genya glanced upwards to see some clouds brewing, most likely some snow was coming later that night. He held out the bundle in his hand. "Himejima-san, some onigiri!"

"Thank you, child." Himejima-san accepted the package, which unsurprisingly looked much smaller in his hand then Genya's. "Train your aim with your gun."

With that, the huge man started lumbering off down the path. Genya's eyebrows pinched. Seriously, had he done something to upset Himejima-san? Was something bothering his master? Usually, whenever Himejima-san would tell him to train, he would always add on the little "until I come back". Why hadn't he added it this time?

Gyomei stopped walking. He could practically feel the poor boy's heart beating confusedly, the pulse in Genya's body rising as his thoughts ran wild. Of course, it was understandable. Gyomei could tell that he was acting strangely towards Genya, and that would make the boy nervous.

"Genya," Gyomei turned around, "could you give me a hug?"

It was the first time he'd asked that of Genya. Gyomei had told him to do many vigorous activities to grow stronger, but never something like what he had just asked of. From knowing Genya for the past two years, he never liked receiving anything. Only giving.

Gyomei could hear Genya's footsteps approaching as the teenager wrapped his arms around the huge man. With a smile, Gyomei shed some tears as he started hugging Genya back.

Oh, how he would love to keep the boy in the Stone Estate. Keep him safe, out of danger. In his heart, Gyomei knew that he couldn't do that, and that Genya would never allow himself to do that. He knew that Genya would jump to kill Kibutsuji Muzan, help his brother and avenge their family.

Gyomei tried his best to not squeeze Genya too hard. It was almost like the cuteness aggression he had with cats, but so much worse when it came to Genya. Instead, he opted to hold the teenager firmly in his grasp. As soon as Gyomei felt Genya moving, he let go.

"Himejima-san..." Gyomei felt his heart squeeze as the tenative calling, "is something happening?"

Gyomei tried to collect his thoughts. "Genya. I... suggest that you write some letters to your loved ones."

He could feel Genya's heart skip a beat.

"So... this is it?" Genya said with a final tone.

Gyomei nodded.

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"Himejima-san... help... Tokitou-san... and... my brother."

[courfee]

Good evening :) For the colour pallete + character thing, may I propose to you: Jehan Prouvaire in 43 <3

what a beautifully happy colour pallete... would be a shame if something happened to it.....

send me characters and a colour pallete to draw

[b5ttyb1tch]

Huskerdust HC

(you can tell when I Got Lazy)

• Husk CANNOT cook to save his life, but will eat anything if you put it on a plate. Angel Is a very good Cook that Constantly Needs feedback From husk if his Cooking Needs anything "did I go to overboard on the Salt? " Should I add more Cheese??" And Husk is Just. " No all eat it like this 👍" and Angel Gets so frustrated.

(angry Italian noises)

• Angel sometimes Comes Back to the Hotel crying to Husk because he Did Technically Cheat on him at work and feels Awful about it, and Husk Comforts Him.

• They have the Nightly Routine Of Angel getting back from Work and Bitching to Husk about Valentino, And Husk always Listens (Good boyfriend brownie Points)

• Husk is Definitely A gentleman when it comes to Dating (-Give Angel flowers Taking him on Little dates EXT)

• Angel flirts With Husk any Chance he gets, But when HUSK Is the one flirting with Angel (even in just Slightly) Angel Gets all flustered and Embarrassed

• When Husk and Angel Have free Time They Watch Angels Shitty Porn Shows and Make fun of them.

• Angel Talks. Husk Listens. Happily