#well i feel sorry for those people cause what a miserable life to spend so much of it unable to enjoy your own life that you target others

[9x07]

how many times do we need to learn as people that irony and hyperbole can be harmful because 'jokes' aren't easily distinguished from genuine thoughts and feelings until we stop rewarding people for speaking or posting about violence

like even if you're joking/don't actually believe that/think whoever you are insulting is bad/immoral/fictional therefore deserves it - ad hominem attacks always do more harm to the people who share those characteristic then the individual you intend to cause harm to or discredit

[miracles-and-butterflies]

Well... Talking about it, will someone else ask to spend time with Mirabel?

Oh, definitely.

~~~~~~

“And how are my girls doing today?”

“I’m feeling great,” Luisa croaked. Ignoring her father’s look of concern as she spoke. “And I’ve got Mira to sip some water.”

“You didn’t think to have some yourself?” He asked, pulling back the coffee he had gone to offer her.

“I’m not sick, Papa. I just lost my voice. It was all for a worthy cause.”

Luisa took the coffee anyways, gratefully sipping at it before relaxing back. Mirabel blinked her eyes open a bit and saw the cup, putting her hands around Luisa’s to feel some of its warmth.

“Still feeling cold, Miraboo?”

“Only a little. It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine. And that’s okay. We can get you some more layers. Maybe a hot water bottle. Though it’s probably your body running low, you need to try eating something.”

“We need to change the bandages too.” Luisa said. “Bled through ‘em.”

Through some rare power that he doubts will ever work again, Agustín had managed to convince Luisa to part with Mirabel for a while.

Maybe it had something to do with her throat.

Yeah. It was probably that.

Beyond sounding awful and scratchy, it must actually hurt. So fair to her.

It was Mirabel who had looked more upset and against the idea, but she was too pained to really do anything.

He had taken some of the blankets and pillows from Luisa’s room with Mirabel when returning her to her own room. For warmth and comfort’s sake.

He had tried to distract her with some knitting, which Mirabel also seemed keen to do. She was just too dizzy for it - in hindsight, it was a doomed idea; she was still struggling to sit up alone. There was little chance in her doing anything.

She was just miserable.

Isabela had joined them at some point while Agustín was changing bandages. With all the liveliness and enthusiasm they didn’t have.

“Good morning, Isa.” He greeted.

“Morning, Papa.” She said. “Morning, sis. How are you feeling?”

Mirabel, too busy focusing on not looking at her leg, clutching onto her tear stained pillow for dear life with her eyes squeezed shut, didn’t give any response.

“What’s Luisa doing? Shouldn’t she be trying to bite our heads off for taking Mirabel from her?”

“She lost her voice again, so I assume she’s downstairs trying to convince your mother to heal her.”

Isabela snickered. “I’m telling you, she’s jealous of my soprano.”

“Not singing, reading this time.”

“Oh yeah, she came down asking Dolores for a brass thing or something because it was in the book,” she trailed off, turning back to Mirabel.

Isabela shifted her gaze to the leg.

“Does it still hurt? Um— wait, sorry, that’s a stupid question. Don't answer that. Of course it does. It looks terrible.”

“She can’t walk or stand on it either,” Agustín added.

“Holy fuck,” Isabela cursed under her breath. “Do you remember much of yesterday, sis?”

Mirabel just shook her head a little.

“Well… I got you to start telling me about the French Revolution. You could finish doing that?”

“It’s fine. I wouldn’t want to bore you, Isa.”

Isabela sat on the floor in front of Mirabel, crossed leg like a kid at school. She leaned over and tapped her sister’s hand.

“Come on, you have all those facts in your head for no reason and I’m asking you to share them. Besides, Dolores told me there was plenty of characters to hate and cheer for when they die in this.”

“It’s history, Isabela. They were real people. Human beings who feel and make mistakes. Yet their legacies have been tarnished by their enemies and propaganda—”

“See? I knew you couldn’t help yourself.”

[imabillyami]

Hii I I'm back 😂

Okay so I would not have guessed English was not your first language 👀😳 you are doing amazingly well!

21 parts!! *fainting* I'm sooo happy to hear that haha Please please in your words - get over yourself and post that stupid (not stupid) chapter 4 😂 - I say this in the most loving and polite way possible 😁🥰 butttt obviously what I really mean is don't stress about it too much and post only when you're happy and comfortable with it (we'll be patiently waiting 😊). I'm glad to hear you're excited for the rest of it though!! 😁

On another note... My curiosity got the better of me 😆 Gentle Cottagecore Emoji Asks 🌱🥛🍯🐄🌳🐓🐇🌲🥞⛰️ answer as many as you like

(as always no pressure to respond) 😊

Ta

🐨

Hi Aussie anon friend 🥰

Took me a while to get to your message (April is this crazy busy month for me every single year, but in a mostly positive way), but here we are.

Yeah, the writing thing is delicate and very fickle. But I've been writing for 15+ years at this point and it rarely stresses me out anymore. I just gotta do things in my own time and remind myself from time to time to trust the process. We'll get there, always do in the end. Patience is key.

Thanks for sending those emoji asks, I'll be answering them under the cut 💕

Hugs to you 💜🌻

🌱 Seedling: What is a scent you find relaxing?

Sandalwood & the scent of the air when you walk through the woods after heavy rain

🥛 Milk: What is a food you find comforting when you are sad?

I dealt with some stuff in the past, so I’m not an "eat my feelings away" person anymore these days, and I’m really trying to prevent finding comfort in food or spending money when I feel sad, so I don’t have a specific food. In fact, I really struggle with eating when I’m sad these days, a complete 180 from when I was younger. 

🍯 Honey: What is one thing you like about yourself?

Personality wise - my kindness. A lot of people think I’m faking that or playing it up, but I’m genuinely not. I just don’t see the point in making anyone’s life harder or miserable when I can spend my time putting smiles on people’s faces and leave them with good memories instead. Physically - probably my eyes. I like the dark color of them and the way people tell me I have kind eyes. So that.

🐄 Cow: What is one other tumblr blog you really appreciate?

Picking one is impossible, really, cause we’re all here for different reasons and good at different thing and I’m just glad we get to share this space together and love the thing we love.

I’d like to shout out some of my dear friends though. Tay @taydaq for her incredible art and being an all around lovely person who’s always there for others.

Mahi @mahi-wayy / @bangazaii for being a complete sweetheart and our lovely fic writing sessions and idea spitballing sessions / rarepair shenanigans in our dms.

Shanie @shanie-the-komania-toyaddict for always being there when shit gets rough and calling me out on my bullshit, but never judging (& also writing the most beautiful kayfabe compliant steenerico fic + side stories).

Carla @samijey for providing me/us with the most beautiful gifs and the most gorgeous writing (and giving me a chance when it was easier not to).

And last but not least my dear friend E. @bremmommye who’s been my friend and comfort person in & out of the internet for many years by now and who I miss dearly cause we rarely ever get to see each other in "real life" (that's what living on opposite ends of the same country and being busy does).

I love all my moots and my followers and all the people I follow who don’t follow me back, but these people are the ones that have carved out that extra bit of space in my heart for themselves and made themselves a forever home in some shape or form. Sorry, didn’t mean to get that mushy, but I really love talking about my friends.

🌳 Tree: What is one thing in your future you are looking forward towards?

Honestly, it goes hand in hand with the answer above, I think. Being able to watch the people I adore, family, friends, acquaintances, strangers I have yet to meet, grow and evolve and live authentic lives that they’re feeling happy and fulfilled with. That’s what makes me happy - seeing the people around me happy. 

🐓 Chicken: What is a comfort movie/show for you?

Sooo many. But one constant is The Princess Bride. Another one is The Breakfast Club. Grey’s Anatomy (very early seasons), Skam, Legally Blonde and more recently Heartstopper. I could go on and on, there’s a whole lot of them. 

🐇 Bunny: What’s a song that you really like?

If you could see my music library - it’s WILD. And I love every single song. I listen to music basically every single minute I’m awake and able to. So picking one song - good god. I’ll give you my 5 most recent played ones.

Thoughts of a child - The Lathums

Dublin in Ecstasy - Inhaler

Dreams - The Snuts

I bet you look good on the Dancefloor - Arctic Monkey

Poundshop Kardashians - Sam Fender

🌲 Pine: Do you prefer the cold, or the heat?

The heat. Don’t love the heat, but I can stand it a lot better than being cold.

🥞 Pancake: What is your favorite breakfast food?

Not a big breakfast person, don’t have a sweet tooth either (not anymore I should say), so probably something savory. I had this yummy grilled veggie & hummus on rye bread breakfast sandwich when I was traveling the other day, that one came to mind. On a normal day, I’ll just have a cup of tea (no sugar, no milk alternative), a handful of almonds, and a banana or an apple to hold me over till lunch. But yeah, if I’m going for actual breakfast, I prefer savory over sweet. 

⛰️ Mountains: Would you rather live in the mountains, city, beach, or the forest?

Grew up living near the forest and spending a lot of time playing in the woods as a kid, lived in a couple a large cities over the years, now living close to the mountains, but still in general vicinity of the city (albeit a smaller one), I’m really enjoying being able to go for a hike in the mountains if I need to catch a break. Reconnecting with nature and the quiet from time to time is real nice. 

[mlobsters]

supernatural s9e14 captives (w. robert berens)

right, back to angel politics -_- and sam breaking dean's heart a little bit

sam's in his pjs, are you allergic to getting comfortable to sleep, dean? at least he doesn't have his boots still on i guess. also i appreciate the ghost assisted bunker tour

DEAN Kevin, I'm sorry. You did not choose this life. You busted your ass, you lost everything, everyone you've loved... And your reward? Getting killed... On my watch. If I... It was on me. It was my fault, and... And there's nothing I can do to make that right. I am so sorry.

--

KEVIN No, this is not happening. Didn't spend months struggling to break through the veil just to get stuck listening to Dean Winchester having a self-pity session. Didn't hear enough of those when I was alive.

thank you, kevin! made me smile. the power of dean's pity party guilt made kevin so annoyed he powered right through the veil. i was wondering about that, if closing heaven meant no people going in too, thanks for the clarification, show.

SAM You feel that? I think I felt a chill. DEAN Yeah. It's 'cause it's cold.

*rimshot*

DEAN Crowley, it's Dean. Call me when you get this. SAM Really, Dean? DEAN What? SAM That's your third unanswered voicemail. You ever think maybe he's just not that into you?

i thought y'all weren't brothers anymore, sam. no teasing!

show also circling back to mrs tran, which i didn't have a lot of faith they'd do (i mentioned recently i couldn't remember if they'd confirmed if she'd died or not)

SAM So, what, you want to give him a medal? I mean, Crowley's the one who put them in the cells in the first place. DEAN Yeah, I know. I'm just talking it out. You know, working the case. Businesslike.

laughed at the "working the case", then really laughed at businesslike

castiel, are you going to make good decisions today?

from the wiki: Sam: D. Webster? As in like Daniel Webster? Dean: Well, I know a lame Crowley in-joke when I see one. The storage lockers were rented under the name "D. Webster." "The Devil and Daniel Webster" is a 1937 short story by Stephen Vincent Benét. It is a retelling of the story of Faust in which a farmer sells his soul to the devil and is defended by Daniel Webster. The real Daniel Webster was a famous 19th century orator and senator.

dean understands this reference?? that seems.... obscure.

Shortcut to Happiness is a modernized version set in the publishing world, starring Anthony Hopkins as a publisher named Daniel Webster, Alec Baldwin as a best-selling (via the devil) but terrible author named Jabez Stone, and Jennifer Love Hewitt as a female version of the devil. This version was made in 2001, but was halted before completion, before finally being completed and given a limited release in 2007.

maybe this is why he knows of it? he's mentioned jennifer love hewitt several times before 🤪 early seasons deep cut?

1.10 Asylum Dean: Hey, Sam, who do you think is a hotter psychic: Patricia Arquette, Jennifer Love Hewitt, or you? 2.01 In My Time of Dying Dean (to Sam): Give me some ghost whispering or something! 2.16 Roadkill Dean: Sammy's always getting a little J. Love Hewitt when it comes to this.

BARTHOLOMEW But with you by my side -- the new boss and the ultimate rebel working together -- think of the message that would send to would-be dissidents. They'd finally understand that resistance is futile.

LOL the borg catchphrase. concerned castiel is going to make another epically bad decision but they got a friend to torture and kill to remind him

well that was miserable, sam telling mrs tran.

dude looks like young mark ruffalo at this angle / actual mark ruffalo

those are some spiffy lookin dressy boots for his fed getup. i like those

BARTHOLOMEW You weren't. Not then. But since then, you've slaughtered thousands of angels. You killed Malachi's man for his Grace. CASTIEL Who I was, what I did, that's not who I am.

he's making some points. lol bart let's settle this with fisticuffs. this plotline....

both of their outfits are nice

think about when they used to wear these suits...

s1e13 route 666

KEVIN Can you two... Get over it? Dudes, just 'cause you couldn't see me doesn't mean I couldn't see you. The drama, the fighting... It's stupid. My mom's taking home a ghost. You two... You're both still here. SAM Of course. Promise.

i don't care if it doesn't make sense i am on board with this. yes, make a promise to the dead boy that you'll work it out. and immediately sam walks away, of course haha. they can both go sulk in their rooms

trying to remember how sam handled it when he was trying to earn back dean's trust, i remember dean being an asshole about it though. so far dean doesn't seem to be trying to do anything in particular to earn sam's trust back (i'm not sure how you go about it anyway). but i don't even know because there's too much shit going on at once perpetually. let's get some fencemending focus.

[coconutcows]

Hey Rebecca. I don't really know you and you don't know me. But please don't take your life. I don't know your situation. But I know what it feels like when everything seems pointless. But even if there really is no one around you right now who would miss you or it feels like there is no reason to keep going, that doesn't mean that can't change one day. Imagine the people you could meet in the future. The things you could see and experience. Don't take that possibility away from yourself. I can't tell you everything will work out. But I can tell you that doing it would take away the possibility of everything working out. You made it this far. You can keep going. I believe in you.

Hello!!! I’m sorry I’ve taken a bit to respond to this I’ve had a couple busy days and a few miserable days, but I really appreciate you sending this to me. I assume you saw my post, although idk how you did, but my issues just run really deep and I’m not sure what to do. I’m putting a bunch under the cut to not dash stretch.

I’ve been trying my best for years and nothing works out for me. That sounds like an exaggeration like people say when they just can’t see any positives but any time anything goes well for me something happens to screw everything up. I have some examples but if I listed those this would be a mile long. But basically my entire world has been swiftly destroyed in the past three months or so.

The thought of meeting new people and experiences is a nice one and I appreciate the positive attitude but the thought makes me feel sick. People tend not to like me much even if I do nothing to them, and experiences just seem to get more out of reach every day for multiple reasons. I don’t have many opportunities anyway, nor do I have the brainpower to plot a path of any kind.

I can’t hold a job because they all end up causing me immense mental distress and there’s no financial assistance that actually makes a difference here (just programs that give you what’s essentially pocket change towards bills and groceries while rushing you to find a job any job) and any job options are limited here to begin with. There’s very little hope for general financial improvement here anytime soon. I don’t think I have the talent or mental strength to try commissions.

Everything that made me look towards the future, that made me feel capable of anything is just gone now. I only have three friends and they get along just fine without me. They’d miss me if I was gone maybe but they’d get along just fine as well. I have my parents but they were a cause towards these issues back when I was a teen so i’ve already gotten over most of the guilt on that front. I know they’d be super upset but they wouldn’t have to worry about me anymore.

If I go through with it I won’t exactly be taking my own life. I plan on waiting until MAID gets expanded to include mental illness since the lovely Canadian Government also thinks disabled and mentally ill people should just be able to choose to die instead of scraping by on their meager assistance. That way I can arrange for anyone who wants to spend time with me before I go to do so.

All I hear is that I need to take care of myself, love myself etc etc etc, but I honestly can’t remember ever even liking myself so how am I supposed to get to that point? Besides I lost all the progress I’d made towards that goal over the past five years. I just really don’t know what to do at this point tbh, I just want to give up.

Anyways, if you or anybody else read all this thanks. Thanks if you care, and thanks for the chance to vent. I’ll make a post in the future if I get some stuff cleared up in case anyone genuinely wants to know what happened. Or people can ask, I’ll answer if I’m comfortable or able to.

[theadventuresofsteven]

lmao im leaving so im not alone

I guess this is like one of those “oh no i went for a walk through the past and now im feeling nostalgic” moments (insert ‘bruh’ sound effect). It’s not healthy for me to keep coming back to this website that reminded me of everything that I was when I was young. Maybe the memories that I missed with people that were significant in my life (cough cough @dreamcowboy) were the main factors that I would remanence about the past. But the reason why I missed the past so much was because now that I’m an architect in Hawaii and being a full ass adult is terrifying, this concept makes me feel like Atlas carrying the burdens of the world. Except the “world” in this metaphor is alcoholism and chronic masturbation. It got to the point where I would run to past experiences since, although not all of those memories were great, they were at least comforting and familiar.

 Replaying moments in my head made me at least feel like I wasn’t alone and that maybe I wasn’t turning into a miserable 50 year old white man that day drinks because their wife has an opioid problem and that Frank from HR didn’t just tank his entire retirement pension. The past was always a place in which I could come back to if the world was too harsh to handle. But the more I went back to the past the more I realized this weird contradicting feeling that would creep over me. The feeling that even though I was running to a time when I felt not alone, it only made me feel even more alone. Well, bud, that’s cause I could always return to a place that no one inhabits anymore. You know how in Mario 64 you can jump into those lil paintings and the mario guy goes “yahoo its mario time”? Thats what it felt like. But when I would come back I was still just mario and those adventures were just memories. 

(Bro that fucking mario analogy gave me a fucking aneurism i think my irresponsible bad habits have fully killed my brain cells)

So i’ve decided to stop running to the past and move forward where everyone else is. Maybe that way I won’t feel this constant impending dread. 

:^)

So why even write this whole thing? Who do I have to prove this shit to? Well honestly it’s like one of the last places where I can still see what Dri (if you still go by that) is up to. So this is the part where I kinda directly just address you (hehe sorry bud but it has been like 5 years). 

I know I fucked up a lot in high school and I know I was a terrible partner to you and put you through some of the most heinous shit. I definitely shouldn’t have dropped off those things at your door but honestly since seeing that post you made about how much I fucked up your life I thought that one last throw of “hey im sorry man i hope we can be square” was a good idea lol. 

I know you definitely don’t want to ever hear from me every again cause I was terrible to you, but to me it’s not that simple. You were legit a huge part of my life and you were actually the first human being that I could look in the eyes and say without a shadow of a doubt that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. I know I didn’t show it but also I was a hormonal teenager. Looking back at every other person I’ve ever been with they really were just extensions of the personality of you that I always loved. 

But i know I’m pushin this shit too far or whatever. I really wished that we could’ve kept in touch but i know that doing so wouldn’t have helped either of us so I guess after 5 (6?) years i’m gonna try and stop going back and reliving moments that we shared. (sappy i know but hey my understanding of love is litterally based off of Television and Movies so don’t blame me, blame the Adam Smith and his invisible hand).

I really wish the best for you and your family (hope your dog is doin well :^) ) and I’m truly sorry for ruining things between us. I’m gonna stalk your page more to read those poems you wrote about me one last time before I finally log off this cesspool of a website lol. 

Take care, Dri. 

Yours Truly,

Changqi

[psychrocism]

personal texts that keep me awake at night:

the response I got after taking acid for the first time and apologizing profusely to the girl who forever ruined dating for me. had a crush on her for years until we finally met by chance and started growing close. when i traveled to go stay with her in north dakota I think our idea of a relationship was overtaken by the reality of it. slowly saw her affection wither away in real time and couldn’t do anything but watch. we drove for hours in complete silence & darkness to the greyhound station and the last unhappy look you gave has haunted me since.

never expected us to get along as well as we did, especially after our awkward beginnings. you left town and my life without saying goodbye, throwing away your first real friend in years. will never forget those nights we spent walking the pavement, hugging until we fell asleep in your van afterwards. I often wonder where you are and if you’ve forgotten them.

one of your many messages that I look at more often than I’d ever admit. don’t even know where to start with my love for you! we’ve been schizo superfriends for a decade now who are still discovering eachother and SOMEHOW haven’t met irl yet. you are the other side of my coin and the world would be empty without you in it. we will take eachother’s secrets to the grave

met over omegle and became eachother’s first loves, it ended miserably 2 years later without real closure. we left eachother wounded, fumbling through the dark for many years after. sorry it took us so much time and mistreatment from others to realize how thankful we are for eachother. my southern sweetheart you taught this dog so much about life & love and you’re the reason I even started using tumblr in the first place.

truly never gets easier having to walk past your old dorm every week, I remember my legs were shaking with each step the first time I went up there. our first words set us both ablaze and I still haven’t felt stimulated like that since but maybe thats because after you had your fun with me you moved back to jersey and never spoke to me again. sex felt so organic between us that any attempt after has felt like mental olympics.

so strange knowing you feel like I’m the one who got away cause we never did figure out why we didn’t date! I think it can be chalked up to mutual shyness & bad timing. I no longer feel the same spark but that night we went swimming with our friends and sang in the car together is one of my fondest teenage memories. none of us are really friends anymore but hope you and I will meet again someday.

LOL MY FUCKIN SKATEBOARD!!! everytime I try to find the stupid element board I got as a kid I remember that I left it in your hands. seems like only yesterday we were two fuckups skipping school to makeout by the train tracks. we always seem to think of eachother and reconnect at the strangest points in our lives and I think it means we are on similar paths to happiness even if it’s seemingly never together.

our mutual friends took me to your art show cause they knew I thought you were cute. after a month of talking; I was on xanax and told you that I liked you, you were drunk and said you liked me. what followed was a year of you trying to get our friends to hate me as much as you grew to. never would have expected us of all people to reconnect & reconcile years later and spend a couple months seeing eachother. even though I was the one who left and got the last laugh it didn’t feel as good as I thought it would.

we went on dates for over a year, shared earbuds in every class, made eachother laugh and blush uncontrollably but when it came down to making it official you could never make up your mind. we tried our best to remain friends but then you started dating every guy you talked shit about and I became the one you ran back to when neglected. i find it both ironic and fitting that our nicknames for eachother had to do with vending machines because at the end of the day that’s all we were to eachother, something convenient.

neither of us fell in love despite our best dates being the ones we went on together. vividly remember walking past the park, the little league game, along the railroad tracks that ran through your neighborhood. having to sneak into your house under the cover of night. I had no idea what I was doing and was apathetic idk how you never noticed but I’d be a liar if i said that the time she’s referring to wasn’t fun… until the cops showed up in the parking lot while we were putting our clothes back on.

[rainy-astrology]

thats what baffles me about this whole life thing that we have to unfortunately force ourselves to endure even if we dont want to admit it we are slaves to the broken system. there is so much that we can or should be doing but at the end of it it dont matter once we pass away cause then u be a no body yknow. no one on earth can really say when but i wanna know when... idrc for the whole life is short yolo shtick that was a saying in the mid 00s or whenever. theres only so much u can realistically achieve and if u fail as i have then whats the point in sticking around? why is there no exit button cause i dont want to stick around past the age of 50? the state the world and countries are in is dreadful. people on here are still timid to talk about death but we cant avoid the subject.

Hi anon, are you alright? You sound very stressed and depressed. This is some pretty negative thinking...Especially if you're asking about death and not wanting to live long. "If you fail as I have then whats the point of sticking around?" I'm guessing you base your self worth on success and you haven't met your expectations/goals, so you're already considering yourself a failure and want to quit. You're under 50, so you're still young (and even if you were 50 or older, age can't stop you from reaching your goals) and have plenty of time to achieve all of the things you want. Yes we will all die in the end, but that doesn't mean you should spend the rest of your time doing nothing and being negative. That's a sad way to live. It's also not a reason to want to leave early... There must be something else in this world that you want to live for.

Is there nothing or nobody you value? Life is about the small things too...it's about the people you are with too...do you really want to quit and leave those behind? Even if you don't think you have either, surely you do. Think about it. Reflect deeply. Even if you think you will be insignificant after your death, you will matter to those you're close to, to people you have impacted and care about. I'm sure there's someone who cares about you. The world may not know you, but why do you care about people you don't even personally know.

You can still be successful no matter how many times you've failed. Isn't that what life is? A series of trials and lessons, learning experiences? You don't have to beat yourself up so much over your mistakes and failures. Learn from them, grow from them.

But I get what you're saying though, I think about it a lot actually. The world is in an incredibly depressing state and just seems to get worse each passing minute. Sometimes it does feel like our efforts amount to nothing, especially since we'll die anyway. We really can be doing so much more and run the world in a much different, better way yet we somehow chose some miserable ways...It's completely understandable. I also especially understand with the failure part, but we can't let that eat us up y'know. We only truly fail when we give up completely.

I know you didn't come to me to get some motivational speech or whatever, but I do not want you to wallow in your own sadness. It's ok to be sad and to be depressed, but you shouldn't give up either.

Decided to put your other ask in here as well

Yeah I'm sorry I didn't really have much of an answer for your 1st ask.

Certain times? Like birth times? I don't think there's much to it, it just happens to be the time we're born at. The placements are based on the degree and coordinates of the stars and such at the time iirc.

No, I don't think it does. Nothing in your birth chart or astrology is set in stone. It is simply a guide to help you learn about yourself and what you may want in life, the lessons and experiences you may go through. Plus depending on the type of chart system and astrology system you use, one chart can mean one thing while the other says something else (but there should likely be an overlapping theme between the charts). It's all up to you to make the action and effort to build your own path and life.

[ihavenothingtodo10220]

hey, common sense anon here, hope you are doing well!

i wanted your thoughts on why you think in modern society is obsessed with who has an audience and who doesnt? like why do mainly those who have an audience or following get the utmost attention both good and bad, yet someone like ourselves whos quite ordinary wouldnt be paid any attention unless we have to prove ourselves (as thats what it still feels like from school throughout adulthood) that we are having to either constantly chase someone for their attention or its people trying to garner the attention they want and i think itd got way out of hand to the point where society has lost track of themselves.

we can spend hours and days weeks or months oggling at the lives of others whilst feeling miserable that our life is not like theirs. im concerned that we are not progressing as people should be. so much is wasted babbling on whatever it might be that usually doesnt even concern the babbler themselves. why cant we separate our life from others and learn to be satisfied with where we are? its honestly so hard rn to not feel down in the dumps or behind or lost or stuck. yet someone else is always trying to outdo another being for what cause though? its just a separate lifestyle so why people got to make their own channels and put a character on? makes no sense to me.

its also not just rich and wealthy that rely on needing an audience or cult like fan base either. every other person snd their granny has to have some type of recognition and if we dont have such a thing why do we feel left out or behind in life bc theres always going to be someone younger than us, therell always be someone better than us st something or other so why does it matter at all in society how popular or how many cliques and internet groups where people have to belong somewhere or theyll be too much of an individual. if this makes any sense then please include your opinion!!

i think its such an issue nowadays with how many folk seek an audience and often at times i have caught myself feeling so inadequate or feeling miserable that im not receving much attention outside of relatives. its sad in a way that the world revolves around the way someone appears to be. and in my opinion even those who dont have a following wont amount to much bc in order to succeed nowadays people need some type of following be it online or elsewhere.

for ex the way society goes through trends faster than tissues or how people would only really be drawn to thode who are popular. if celeb dies its a big deal but if its ordinary person it gets overlooked or theyre life wasnt as significant :/

sorry for my rant again just been doing some thinking (again) thanks again in advance if you reply!

Honestly, this is a human thing rather than a nowadays thing I’ve found. We always want the things we see others having, and compare them to what we ourselves have at the moment. It’s like if you have siblings, how if you sibling got something nice you wanted something nice in turn. How people are always trying to be acknowledged and praised for everything they do. Though nowadays, with social media, this is definitely amplified by social media because we can now see all these things others are doing and want those things too. So it’s constantly people seeing others rising higher and higher and wanting to rise themselves. And frankly, we’re not evolved yet to deal with those things quite right. It’s like how 99% of people hate the way they look/are insecure. It’s because we’re not evolved to be used to seeing ourselves, as that ability is fairly new. Sure there were reflections in things like ice and water, but those aren’t clear and horribly skewed.

With celebs dying and things, it is sad that ordinary people get overlooked but also understandable. With celebs, you know at least of them, and have built a sort of parasocial relationship. With ordinary people it’s kind of like when you read history books about people who’ve been dead for hundreds of years. It’s very detached. Unless it’s truly brutal and gruesome, it just doesn’t feel the same as it would for a celebrity or someone in your life.

And again, the trends thing is very much something that’s a constant as well. Our sense of beauty is dependent on what you see the most. Trends change because you see one thing too much, and therefore you want the exact opposite. That, and it also reflects a culture’s values, predicament, etc. etc. trends changing reflect how we as a people are changing. Trends have always been rather fleeting in nature.

[rcksmith]

Dream a little of me — Kaz Brekker

Resume: One bed and two hearts.

Requests :”Hello, darling! Could I request sleeping with kaz? Imagine or general headcanons, as you like. No nsfw (no need of touching tho, do what you like with it!), just sleeping in the same bed - maybe for the first time. Also bonus points if one of them will have a nightmare👀Have a good night/day, hun!🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️✨✨✨💗💗💗”

“My heart asks for all the angst of touch starved reader falling for Kaz Brekker... 😭😭😭 - 🐕‍🦺”

Couple: Kaz Brekker/ Grisha Fem!Reader

Warnings: swearing, mention of post-traumatic stress, angst, fluff.

Word count: 3k.

A/N: Thank you💖 I hope you guys like.

Normal Rules.

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake. Requests are open. Love you❤️

— — — — —

The rain was pouring down in torrents, in a fierce storm that roared into the shadowy forest like a hideous, unearthly animal. Platinum lightning’s streaked the midnight sky and thunder rumbled like as giants footsteps crashing into the ground and shaking the earth. Everything had been orchestrated to work. But nothing could have gone more wrong.

Unfortunately, not even Kaz Brekker's millions of tricks and plans could defeat the force of nature. And even you, an Infernal Entherealki, hadn't mastered the art of controlling fire or keeping warm while under a torrent of icy, biting cold water.

Your teeth started chattering, your lips turned purple, and you wondered if you could run another inch. Your muscles felt like stones and for someone who had lived with the heat of the flames his whole life, being under freezing water was extremely painful. But Kaz wouldn't let you stop. And you, as excruciating as the pain was, didn't want to stop either. The pain was strong but the desire not to let him down was more.

The two of you part of the plan that night was to go through the forest with the diamonds in pockets and find the rest of the Crows on the other side. You two would have to spend the night in that place. But all of Brekker's machinations were washed away by the treacherous and atrocious rain.

The only alternative was to run. Run to the direction where there was a small civilization and pray to find an inn or not die of hypothermia.

The angry drops of icy water were enough to steal Kaz's breath. Not because the cold was unbearable, but because his own demons, his past, were ghosts that gripped his ankles like monsters from horror stories. He didn't feel the rain, didn't feel the biting wind, Kaz just felt the sensation of the freezing, oppressive ocean drowning him. And for a second, when he looked at the small strip of fur on he wrist that wasn't hidden by his glove and coat, he swore he saw Jordie's dead skin in place of his.

He had to get out of there. But when the storm started, and Kaz run his eyes at you, your face wet from the rain, your skin constantly whipped by the cold droplets, and your cheeks extremely red from the cold, it made him gasp in a very different way. Blood pooled in your cheeks. Pulsing. Alive. He had to get you out of there.

Finding hiding places was one of his specialties, and he focused his mind entirely on it. When an inn came into view, a small relief rumbled in both of you. And Kaz looked in your direction to make sure you were okay. Alive.

As the receptionist gave the key from the last spare room to the two of you, Kaz couldn't help but feel that there was no longer any heat pulsing in your body. That made him feel miserable.

The night was cold. Unusually cool for the time of year.

"I don't think it's a good idea to carry out a robbery like that in these climatic temperatures." Inej said, walking down the stairs after Kaz "One of the Dregs caught a serious cold too while you were away."

Kaz had to be away for two days to sort out some matters of his own. Check some ship ports and finding out the weaknesses of some new merchants. And as much as he ordered his thoughts to focus solely on that purpose, he found himself daydreaming at certain times about…

"It got very serious after a few hours." Inej completed.

Kaz felt a trickle of worry trace his veins, tighten his throat But it wasn't for some bruteman of his Dregs. His source of concern was more serious, deeper, and for someone he didn't want to think about too much. Even though he told himself to keep every nerve in his body under control, in the end he was Kaz Brekker, he couldn't help but notice he picked up his pace to get faster to the live room that was strictly reserved for the Crows.

And when he walked in, following by Inej, the tree branches hit the windows, blown by the wind, tinkling. The cold was oppressive and biting, but not enough to stop Jesper from playing cards with Wylan, nor enough for Nina not to eat her candy and listen to Matthias tell of his people's legends. But the eyes of Kaz, that treacherous and treacherous organ, ran to you first. Magnetically, inevitably.

And he felt like he could breathe again.

The sight of you sitting on the black velvet sofa, with a book in your hands and your legs stretched out on the padded stool in front of you, calmed Kaz's heartbeat as nothing had ever done.

As much as he denies, in those two days his mind has swarmed over you more often than he thought wise. Brekker liked to justify that action with the fact that you were part of the gang. As close and important as Jesper or Inej. It was normal for him to be worried about the Dregs.

But why did he only see you? Why did the questions about your well-being and comfort stood out so much from any other concerns with others?

It was you. Always late at night, when Brekker was a sigh away from sleep. You were what someone he was thinking.

"Who is alive always appears." Nina announced he arrival and Kaz was pulled out of his reverie.

"Did you kill anyone these two days?" Jesper placed a letter on the table and Inej sat beside Nina.

Kaz left his hat on one of the dark marble tables. “Does it matter?"

There were other seats available in the room. A leather armchair next to the burning fireplace - Brekker were sure that you was controlling the temperature - an extra chair around the table where Jesper and Wylan were play, and a small divan beside Matthias. But Kaz sat beside you on the couch.

You marked the page with your finger, lowering the book gently. He didn't need to see the cover to know what it was. It was a romance clichéd eighteenth-century. He had given it to you before he left.

"Everything worked?" You smiled and Kaz had the feeling that he wanted to memorize that smile in a painting to always appreciate it.

"And doesn't always do?"

Even with the biting cold that wasn't stopped by the fireplace, Brekker could feel the heat from your body emanating, like a delicious temptation. You were always so hot. Bathed in the sun's rays. He didn't know if infernal grisha like you gave off so much heat too, because it was impossible for that to be human. Were so intense...delicious. Even with multiple layers of clothing, if Kaz approached you he could feel the warmth of a tropical pirate island.

Was that why he always unconsciously sat beside you? Why did you radiate so much causticity that it made Kaz forget about the ocean's cold? Why were you like a piece of life and Kaz felt dead for a long time?

Or was it because, heat or not, you were the only thing worth being around?

All the questions were too disturbing. And Kaz Brekker didn't want to know the answer.

Now, even climbing the stairs to the room beside you, Kaz couldn't feel anything radiating from you body. Just the cold. And he hated it with every force of his being.

You're not made to take the rain, felling deadly cold, or turn your lips a bluish hue.You were not made to be cold as a corpse, with muscles stiff and sore like a dead. You were not made to look like Jordie. You were meant to be alive. To look alive. Exhale the heat of the most ardent fire and heat a room just with your presence. You were meant to scare off Kaz's winter with your summer.

For a second, Kaz wanted to hug you to give you the warmth of his own body.

You felt exhausted. The remnants of what you once day were. Every inch of your body protested, aching and tearing at muscles. The cold, sharp water did you no good. You didn't know if it was were something of your species or a trait unique to you. But it didn't do any good to you. You hated looking so miserable in that appearance, especially in front of the one man you always wanted to look beautiful to. But at that moment you were in too much pain to worry so much about it.

As soon as Kaz had put the key in the doorknob, his gloved fingers stiff from the cold, what you expected to find was a cozy room, promising a heat shower and a good, well-deserved night's sleep. But that wasn't it. You stared at the wide double bed with white sheets, perplexed. Shock competed with your pain and put your brain to work, and all your breath lurked in throat as your realized the situation.

Oh my fucking God.

You didn't have to look at Kaz to feel his entire body be rigid, in a way far more potent than the effects the rain had caused. As if the prospect of sleeping next to you was more whorse than dying of hypothermia.

You closed your expression. Half because your mood was already bad and half because the rejection was brutal. You didn't expect your passionate feelings for Kaz to be returned, nor did you expect him to feel the same longing to be close to you as you felt for him. But no woman wanted to see that a man would rather die of hypothermia than share a bed with her. Even more if he was a man she was in love with.

You entered in room first, the pain in your body clouding your thoughts.

"Do you mind if I shower first?"

Your voice was weak, and you didn't have the heart to look at Kaz. He hissed a “no” that hung in the air, and that was the last thing you heard before closing yourself in the bathroom.

His heart was beating eerily fast in his chest. As loud as the thunder outside and as unsettling as the chill of rain. His breath began to burn heavily in his throat, and suddenly his entire body was fully aware of the situation.

One bed.

Even when he took the diamonds out of his pocket and placed them on a small table, even when you came out of the bathroom and he walked in, even as he basked in the hot water, his heart still pounded wildly. Like a generator.

Kaz Brekker liked puzzles, challenges. Of things he could unravel and understand. Piece by piece. He played to win and to cheat, and the world knelt at his feet before the insight of his mind. Still, he didn't know what to do. You were like a fascinating and maddening riddle. The one thing that, no matter how hard Kaz tried, could never unravel yours mysteries. Or maybe, just, what he would never be able to do was unravel what he felling whenever he was by your side.

His heartbeat grew stronger.

Brekker remembered every deck of cards, every card played. He could keep up with the distribution of up to five decks, unlock any lock, and devise the most insane plans. But he couldn't stop the way his soul trembled whenever he laid eyes on you.

In those moments, when you looked at Kaz like he was someone much better than he actually was, Kaz wanted to be good. He wanted to be born again to become a damn decent man. For you. He wished he didn't have his demons and erase his past. Because that way, when the sun's rays hit your face and you were close enough for your scent of happiness to flood his senses, Kaz wouldn't back down. He would lean down and seal his lips in yours with the promise of a glorious future.

His heart beat faster.

Why did he feel that his whole life was always suspended whenever he were away from you? And why did he have the feeling his life could change forever if he walked out that door?

Kaz turned off the shower. The heart running like a horse. He fished out the towel and wrapped it around his waist, finding a small hamper that held neat, folded pajamas for guests. He was surprised he didn't notice you in those pajamas. You made him lose focus.

As soon as he dressed and walked out of the bathroom, his eyes immediately went to your figure. Sitting on the bed, your legs under the covers, your hands clasped together in a cupped shape with a small, flare of fire burning in the center.

You looked up at Kaz. “I managed to do something to warm you up.”

The phrase was: No for warm me up. No for warm us up. For warm you up.

Kaz lost his breath and his soul trembled. The air felt different since he stepped out of the shower, not just from the recent gust of heat. But there was something else, something lyrical, pink and lush. Something...beautiful. He did not say anything. First because he didn't trust his own words and second because he didn't know what to say. He sat beside you, a considerable distance away, but this time his fear was that you would hear the loud, racing beat of his heart.

You turned gently towards him, reaching out your hands towards him, not noticing how his hands trembled as they stretched under the hot flame. Kaz swallowed hard.

He knew how weak and drained you were, but he also knew you were aware that he loathed cold. Hated icy water. You didn't know the depth of his traumas, but the fact that you cared to the point that you were willing to use your last shred of strength to end his torment was something that reverberated in his soul.

You two didn't say anything else after that. After Kaz removed his hands from the flame, you understood that as the end of your two interactions. You two shared a mutual answer that neither would sleep on the floor. You two were adults and in no condition to be lashed by any colder.

The night moon bathed the dark room with lights in distilled silver, almost flickering through the windswept tree branches. You were back-to-back, blankets pulled up to your shoulders, breathing gently quickened. As exhausted as you two were, neither of you could sleep.

Suddenly, the whole atmosphere in room seemed to change. Like a private, enchanted piece of the world. The wind howled softly, on a calm note. The rain was still falling in torrents, but now it seemed to be adopted in a passionate tone. As if it had fulfilled its purpose and now hovered in the world with a romantic veil of water. Stars shining bright above the bedroom window, glittering like hundreds of tiny diamonds, accompanied by moonlight. Although the light was dim, it seemed to capture the lyrical essence, seem to whisper “Dream a little dream of me.”

Everything felt different, like the two of you had entered a rift in the world. A part inhabited romance, pure magic, love.

Your soul shivered, and as much as you could never prove it, you felt that Kaz's soul shivered too. Your breath hitched, burning in lungs, your body seized by a caustic tingle that snaked through every inch.

You didn't know why, but your body shifted gently on the bed, turning slightly towards the ceiling. The racing pulse in your veins. A second felt like an eternity. Kaz's body moved too, and you knew, just knew, that he was looking at the ceiling too.

Two hearts beating in the same time. Synchronized. And, by some magic or deity, you two knew that your heartbeat would never again beat another way. Always connected.

Your body moved a little more, now on belly up. And Kaz's seemed to do the same move, even without seeing you or your movements. His chest rising and falling with intensity. The rain calmed outside, turning the symphony of droplets hitting the roof into mysterious, passionate music. As if the world were plotting a whispering favor for you two.

Kaz could feel your body heat radiating once more, grazing his skin with rays of sunlight. Everything in that bedroom became poignant and intense and lyrical, inflicting sensations on him that Kaz never thought existed before. Later, it would be a shock for him to see that he was at the mercy of his own passions. Overcome by sensations that robbed him of control of his body. Later he would think about it. Later.

His soul tingled, sending gusts of heat from the inside out. The feeling was that, after 28 years of deep sleep, he had awakened. Awake. Alive.

His body moved once more, now completely on belly up. Kaz didn't have to look at you to know that you too had placed yourself in the same position. It was as if he felt the movements of your soul. His pulse was racing now, hot and boiling in his blood. And Kaz wondered if all the money in the world would bring half the sensations he was feeling right now.

What was he so afraid all this time? That question echoed through all the corridors of his soul. And Brekker feared for the answer. What kept him from having everything he craved?

Money? Pekka? Jordie's ghost and the cold ocean? Kaz feared never touching you any more than he feared his demons? Was that why he always walked away from you? Why was wanting to slide his fingers into your hot skin and not being able to fell you, be worse than any sensation he'd ever felt? Because, maybe, admitting it can change everything?

His breath hitched.

Would it be worse to be alone for the rest of his life? Doomed and cursing to a fate of revenge, death and red hate? Or, even worse for his heart, finding a girl with lovely eyes, sunny smiles and the smell of happiness? A girl that made him laugh, come out of his hiding. You. What do he will do with that? What if you open up the door that he can't close it? And If when you hold he and his heart is set in motion?

Would that be so bad? No.

His body became very aware of the approximation it was on to your. Your heat radiating into his. For some reason, Kaz was sure you was in the same condition as he was. Sharing the same feelings. The same passion hidden for so long.

Kaz should have thought of his brother, of revenge against Pekka Rollins, of the cold of the ocean. He should have weighed of his own traumas. Instead, he thought: What if I get a little closer?

The result of this was his fingertips brushing yours. And he knew the exact moment your heart sped up even more. Because his followed the same beat. Maybe following yours for the rest of his life.

You brought your eyes to him, calmly, as if that moment might disintegrate. and the world seemed suspended in that moment. Kaz slid his eyes to you as well, sharing sensations and emotions that didn't need to be put into words. It was all there, in the gaze.

His fingers crept higher, going to your hand, and plunging his touch - and his soul - into that contact. All your heat was too strong. Too intense. Doing Kaz wouldn't be able to think or feel, for the first few minutes, about anything but light, heat, summer and…happiness.

That's when you gave him a shaky, emotional smile. I would do anything for you. That's what that smile said. And Kaz answered, his hand tight with yours before letting go. Me too.

- -

As the sun's rays, shy and buttery, flooded the bedroom in soft color, Kaz's eyelids fluttered. The sound of birds reached his ears, and the scent of flowers and happiness invaded his nose.

It was nothing like waking up in Ketterdam.

That thought back him to reality. A reality in which he had stolen many diamonds, taken the rain and had to share the calm. A reality where Kaz Brekker touched you.

You.

Kaz opened his eyes immediately, his heart racing again. He looked frantically around the room, past the simple furniture, the closed bathroom door, the window where the light came in, and then looked to his side on the bed. That's when he realized what position he was in.

His soul heated up.

You had your back to him, your hair spread out on the white pillow, your back showing by your pajama top, your shoulder rising and falling softly with your resonant breathing. You were close. Very close. And Kaz finds, perplexed, that he is facing you. One arm rests around your waist, over the thick blankets, in an intimate and…romantic gesture.

He lost his breath. His warm, hope-shining soul whispered to him: what if it was like this every day? What if he woke up with you by his side forever? What if in time he learned to be a decent man? Trying to be normal?

Would Kaz do this for you?

You shifted in bed, turning onto his side, front for him, snuggling deeper under his touch and moving closer, as if Kaz were your oasis in the desert. No skin was actually touching, your breath hit his warm chest, and if Kaz lowered his lips even further, he could feel your lips on his.

Yes. He would.

[sacredsorceress]

Lollipop || Bucky Barnes

pairing: bucky barnes x rogers!reader

summary: your brother and his best friend find themselves in a fight after a few boys don’t know when to shut their mouth.

a/n: reblogs and replies are super appreciated!!

word count: 1.9k

warnings: fighting, mentions of blood, someone makes a suggestive comment about reader

masterlist || request || taglist

1935

“What do you think you’re doin’, punk?” He asked, plucking the lollipop from your hand. “I thought Steve told you to stop sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

Kneeling beside you behind the dumpster, Bucky pulled the wrapping off of the top of the lollipop, slipping it into his mouth. Swatting your brother’s best friend, you scolded him in a hushed voice.

“Hey! Big mouth!” You whispered. “Can you stop talkin’ so loud? Someone’s gonna find us if you don’t shut up. Thanks for stealing my lollipop by the way.”

“Yeah?” Bucky said, raising his eyebrows, pulling the candy out of his mouth with a satisfying ‘pop’. “Consider it payment for keepin’ my mouth shut. The hell you doing back here anyway?”

You were asking yourself the same question.

You and your brother Steve always walked home together at the end of the school day when he met you at your locker after the final bell rung. However earlier that day, your brother had come up to you, his eyes unable to meet yours, telling you to wait for him out front after school was over for the day because he ‘had something he had to do’ afterwards. Not even giving you a chance to ask him why, your brother had stormed off to his next class.

Not one to mind your own business when it came to Steve, as soon as the dismissal bell rung, you disobeyed his orders, making your way to the back of the school, hiding behind the dumpster you and Bucky were situated at now.

“You mean he didn’t tell you?” You asked, furrowing your eyebrows.

“What?” He asked. “I haven’t seen him since lunch. Why? What’d he say?”

Shaking your head, you glanced at the door of the building as it opened. “Nothing. He was acting really weird-”

Cutting yourself short, you stopped speaking as you saw two boys you recognized, coming out the back door of the school, laughing with one another. Shutting yourself up, you tugged on the sleeve of Bucky’s t-shirt when you saw none other than your brother Steve emerge from the door seconds later.

“Hey!” Steve called to the two boys.

“What the hell is he doing?” Bucky whispered to you.

Pulling his shirt tighter, your eyes growing wide, you both continued to watch the scene unfold in front of you.

“Listen, Rogers, if you know what’s good for you you’ll go back inside.” The boy you recognized as Matthew said, turning around.

“Take back what you said.” Your brother said, his hands balling into fists at his side. When he received no answer from either of the boys, he raised his voice. “I said take back what you said in the bathroom!”

The two boys glancing at each other, one of them raised his voice.

“Yeah? Or what?”

Rather than replying, you watched as your brother raised his fists to his eye line, but before anything could come from it, one of the boys strode over to Steve, swinging a punch to his face before he could even block it, the other kicking him to the ground.

“Shit!” Bucky swore, shrugging your hand off of his shirt and rising to his feet. “Stay here.”

“But Buck-” You began.

Taking the lollipop out of his mouth, he shoved it into your hands, pointing his finger at you. “I said- stay here.”

You watched with wide eyes as your brother’s best friend, made his way around the dumpster, over to the fight happening before your eyes.

“Hey!” Bucky called, the boys’ heads turning at the sound of his voice. “Pick on someone your own size.”

Grabbing the collar of one of the boy’s shirts, Bucky shoved him against the wall, throwing a punch to his face.

“What the hell did these guys do to piss you off so bad, Steve?” Bucky asked, holding Matthew against the wall.

Answering for him, the boy smiled, showing off his bloody teeth. “All I said was that it’s a good thing y’all are so poor. If the Rogers could buy better clothes we wouldn’t get to see Y/n’s panties through her skirt every time she-“

“Keep her name outta your God damn mouth!” Steve shouted before he took another blow to his face.

Beginning to feel his blood boil at the sight of the boy in front of him, Bucky’s jaw clenched as he grabbed Matthew by the collar with both hands and threw him onto the ground.

“C’mon Barnes,” The boy laughed. “You’ve seen her. You’re tellin’ me you spend all your time with that charity case friend of yours without wanting anythin-”

Practically seeing red, Bucky climbed on top of him, and began throwing a series of punches against the boy’s face. 

Although you were Steve’s sister, Bucky had known you well enough that he wasn’t going to back away from a fight where your name was being dragged through the mud. He had known you practically his whole life- you and Steve were a packaged deal, having been adopted by the Rogers as an infant and raised as Steve’s sister. Although he teased the hell out of you, he had always had a soft spot for his best friend’s sister and he wasn’t about to let some asshole talk that way about you without getting his face beat in.

Despite Bucky’s orders, you couldn’t sit by and watch your brother get beat up by the boy on top of him while Bucky took out the other. Slipping the lollipop that was in your hands into your own mouth, you grabbed the piece of plywood that was laying against the dumpster beside you and stood up. Making your way around the dumpster over to where the fight was going on, you came up behind the unnamed boy that was on top of your brother. Lifting the piece of wood in your hands, you swung it across the back of the his head.

A loud yelp erupting from the boy’s mouth as he fell to the ground, off of Steve grabbed Bucky’s attention.

“What the-” Bucky exclaimed looking up to see you standing above your brother and the other boy. “I thought I told you to stay-”

Before he could finish his sentence however, distracted by you, the boy below him took advantage of the situation to swing a punch right into Bucky’s eye.

“Shit!” He shouted in pain, but before Matthew could throw another one, Bucky threw one last punch across his nose, the boy immediately screaming in pain.

“My nose!” He shouted, hands shooting to his bloodied face. “I think you broke my fucking nose!”

“Yeah?” Bucky asked, pulling on the boy’s collar and bringing his face inches from his. “If you even think about the Rogers girl again, I’ll kick your fucking teeth in, alright?”

Nodding wildly, he scrambled to his feet, running back towards the door of the building, the boy you had hit with the piece of plywood, holding the back of his head close behind him. 

Breathing a sigh of relief, you dropped the piece of wood at your side, closing your eyes until you felt the lollipop slip out of your mouth.

“Wha-” You began, opening your eyes.

When they did, your eyes landed on a bruised up Bucky slipping the lollipop into his own mouth once again.

“You owe me another one.” You said.

“Yeah right.” Bucky scoffed, pointing at the black eye that was forming on his face. “This shiner’s worth two of these stupid things and I got it because you, missy, don’t know when to stay put.”

Shaking your head, you turned to look at your brother and his bloodied face, resting your hand on his shoulder before turning back to Bucky.

“Steve needed help!” You exclaimed, attempting to defend yourself.

Shrugging your hand off, Steve shook his head. “I didn’t need your help, Y/n.” He said. “I could’ve handled those guys.”

You knew Steve wasn’t one to ask for help- he hated it actually. With his stature and health people were always either giving him help he didn’t ask for out of pity or actively working to make his life even more miserable. You understood that because of all of this he didn’t ask or want your help, but you didn’t help him because you didn’t believe in him, but- for the same reason as Bucky- because you cared. 

Knowing better than to make the situation worse, you sighed in defeat, nodding.

“You’re right.” You said to your older brother. “I’m sorry.”

Watching the scene in front of him, Bucky laid his hands on both of your shoulders.

“Listen, those guys were assholes.” He said glancing at each of you. “They deserved to get their ass kicked by three people. I don’t think we’ll have to worry about them again for a while now.”

-

As Bucky and you sat waiting for your brother on a bench in front of your shared high school for him to grab his wallet, you looked up at Bucky. Although you had to squint your eyes from the sun shining above the buildings, you gazed at your brother’s best friend’s face- the way the lollipop stick hung outside his mouth, the scruff that was already covering his jawline and even the bruise that had begun to form around his eye.

Shaking your head to clear your mind, you cleared your throat.

“Buck?” You asked.

“Yeah?” He replied, staring ahead, hand still on the stick of the lollipop in his mouth.

“What...” You began, fiddling with your fingers. “What was that fight all about anyway?”

Furrowing his eyebrows, and slipping the lollipop out his mouth he turned to you.

“You didn’t hear any of that?”

“No.”

Staring straight ahead, placing the candy back on his tongue he thought about the fight that had just unfolded and the sick things the kid who’s face he beat in said to cause it. He knew nothing good would come from you knowing and he knew even more that no matter how much he tried he wouldn’t even be able to say the words to your face.

“Same old stuff.” He shrugged, not meeting your eyes. “Ya know, about Steve’s height and shit.”

Shaking your head, you scoffed.

“What assholes.”

“Yeah.”

Before anymore could be said, the sound of the front door of the school swinging open drew you and Bucky’s attention, Steve emerging from inside the building.

“Anyone steal anything?” Bucky asked, pushing himself off of the bench.

Chuckling, Steve opened his wallet to reveal... nothing.

“Not if there’s nothing to steal.” Your brother laughed.

Making your short trip back to your respective apartments, you followed behind with Bucky and Steve, laughing along with their jokes along the way despite their bruised and battered faces and the events that had transpired not even a half an hour before.

When Bucky made it back to his building, the stick of the lollipop still in his mouth, he waved back to the two of you. Watching as you and your brother made your way back home until you both had left his line of sight, Bucky couldn’t help but think about how one day the Rogers siblings would stop getting themselves into fights, but until that day came he swore he would do whatever it took to protect his best friend and his ‘punk’ little sister who- despite his best efforts- he had always saved a special place in his heart for.

[helliontherapscallion]

Why Couldn’t it Have Been Me?

Part 2

Paring: Wilbur Soot x reader (past), Ghostbur x reader

Disclaimer: This contains major spoilers for Tommyinnit’s 4/29 lore stream

Warnings: swearing, violence, death, near death, cheating, 4/29 lore stream, grief, blood, injury, panic attack

Word count: 6,737

(A/N): So in this, you’re Schlatt’s twin and Puffy’s your older sister. Also, sorry for any mistakes, I typed a good 2/3 of this on my phone

This was your own personal hell: being trapped within cement walls with your ex fiance, your asshole of a brother, and a Dream wannabe that seemed to never lose any energy. Your life was like a trope in a novel alive you would’ve liked, however being cursed to live in it made you absolutely loathe any and all mention of it. 

Alive you would’ve killed to hang out with your brother again, not the one that turned to the bottle. Alive you would’ve craved the sweet melodies that streamed from Wilbur’s mouth. You would’ve swooned and maybe, just maybe, you would’ve forgiven him. Alive you would’ve perhaps liked this ‘Mexican Dream’ guy, you would’ve perhaps become the best of friends. 

However you despised the three locked up with you with your whole heart. 

Your ex fiance was someone you adored. Hell, you even idolized him when you were alive. The Wilbur you knew was sweet, loving, attentive, and just all around someone that you swooned over. You could still remember how your heart exploded when he first asked you out under the setting sun by the ocean. You remembered every song he's written for you, every word and rhythm by heart, even after all these years. 

You remembered how you felt your heart completely shatter when you found the songs he had in his drafts for someone that wasn't you. Someone by the name of 'Sally'. After a heated argument you had broken up with him, taking the engagement ring off from your finger and throwing it deep into the ocean. You stayed on L'Manberg's side even after all that, too loyal and proud towards the country you helped forge to drop it. You wouldn't let some stupid boy or rabid tyrants prevent you from raising your beautiful nation up from the ashes.

That had been your downfall. You should've listened to Puffy and left the country behind when you had the chance, now you paid the ultimate price for your deep rooted loyalty and devotion towards independence. And your sacrifice didn't even matter in the end! Your deranged ex blew it all to smithereens. If you didn't despise him before, you absolutely did after your dumbass twin told you about his little 'escapades' while you were gone.

Every little thing Wilbur did, no matter how small it was, made you hate him even more. Every time he would shuffle those damned cards, it made you want to rip them to shreds and throw them across the train tracks. Every time he would sing or even breathe, you wanted to strangle him. You were absolutely certain that Schlatt felt the same. 

Oh, your twin was a real card. Always boasting about how his horns were bigger than yours (who even cares anymore? Yours grew in first anyways), telling the others about your shortcomings through crude jokes, even going as far as fighting you through headbutting; you could still feel the pain of being beaten to death before respawning immediately. Schlatt hadn’t known that you respawn even in the afterlife, so you knew he was serious about killing you. You just wanted Puffy, she was far more tolerable than your twin. 

The rustling of his suit jacket and his small grunts and pants resonated within the walls as he did various forms of exercising. You now knew about all of the differing variations of a pushup and you hated yourself for listening to his explanations. He would beg you, Mexican Dream, and Wilbur to stand on his back while he did his endless routines. The only one to readily take him up on that offer was Mexican Dream.

That man was arguably the only one you slightly tolerated, and you said that very lightly. He was still annoying as all hell, but he was a new face. Well, one that you didn’t know well enough to have a grudge against while you were alive. It was slightly refreshing, in a sense. When he first got here, his songs, stories, and humor gave you a nice break away from Wilbur’s depressing songs and Schlatt’s crude jokes. However when you spend eleven years trapped in a cage with one person, everything they do becomes the bane of your existence. 

You were running out of things that kept you sane in this dump. You've read the same novel, counted the same ceiling and floor tiles (32 ceiling tiles and 57 floor tiles exactly), traced the same cracks in the walls, temporarily killing the same cellmates, you've done anything and everything that this cesspool had to offer. You've done everything billions of times over, a never ending cycle of monotony. 

Tommy joining your group of miserable has-beens was perhaps the highlight of your fifteen, almost sixteen, years spent in this shithole. Though he finally dropped the brave facade and showed just how broken down he was after everything he’s been through, having him around was the saving grace to your sanity. He told you how your sister was, how your nephews were, and most importantly what you missed. You knew about all of the events leading up to Mexican Dream's death, but you were left in the dark with everything past that. Ender, you missed so much since you died; It baffled you how much you missed. 

When the train actually stopped at your cell instead of just passing by and it's doors opened, you were just expecting another poor soul to be dropped off here. You could imagine everybody's surprise when none other than Dream stepped out of those doors. The nephew that had betrayed you without a second thought, that had murdered you, that had your severed head displayed on his mantle (you weren't sure the truth of that last statement, Tommy has a habit of over exaggerating. Though, Schlatt did say that your body was found with a missing head when you first forced him to tell you what you missed). Tommy talked to you about how he died only once, so you knew just what your nephew has been up to. It infuriated you knowing that your adult nephew was manipulating and abusing this young teenager.

While you were releasing your pent up frustrations on the masked man, he merely brushed past you and drug Tommy into the train by the arm. You could remember Wilbur banging on the doors begging for Dream to return his little brother and his angered screams echoing down the railways as the train sped off back towards the land of the living. 

Lucky Tommy, he got to live out the rest of his life and actually age. You and your crew of intolerable jesters were stuck together once again. 

Everybody was silent for a few months, reeling at the newly discovered fact that Dream could actually resurrect people. During those three months, they were quiet and tolerable. In a way, the talks that came out of it was like one of those family therapy sessions your older sister would hold in the living room (you remembered how she would grab you and Schlatt by the horns if either one of you refused to go). You would kill to attend one of those therapy sessions again, and this is the closest you were going to get to it. 

You all talked about the things you regretted most while you were alive. Mexican Dream's was that he didn't protect his girlfriend Mamacita well enough. Schlatt's was choosing alcohol and power over his family (tears were especially shed over Tubbo, he really did regret abandoning him to be raised by you). Yours was that you were too loyal to a cause that would be absolutely decimated a short while after you sacrificed everything for it. Surprisingly, Wilbur's was that he had hurt you.

He had begged and groveled for forgiveness, telling you that he just didn't feel that special connection with you anymore. That didn't take away from the fact that he was seeing another while you two were still dating and that he blew up your life's work. He had stolen everything from you, and you would never forgive him for that. 

After you made your thoughts on him completely clear, he had started treating you like you treated him in the last few months. Tension was building up between you two that had laid dormant for thirteen and a half years like a rope pulled taut about to snap.

Everybody had slowly returned to their annoying selves slowly but surely. Schlatt resumed his workout routine, Mexican Dream had started loudly singing and ranting about Mamacita's everlasting beauty again, and Wilbur eventually started up his solitaire and songwriting once again.

The three of them made you want to rip off your twisting horns and shove them in your ears in hopes of muffling them, but you knew that whomever put you here would restore your hearing and make your horns regrow. You knew that first hand after you spent a couple of years alone in this hellhole; breaking your horns off by repeatedly banging your head against the dull stone walls in a manic state was never fun. The regeneration of the keratin only slightly stung, it was like you were a kid and they were growing in for the first time again. 

You felt your eye twitch as Wilbur sang about that damned train for the umpteenth time since he arrived. It’s always ‘train this' and ‘train that' and quite frankly you were sick of it. You were sick of him. 

“Shut the fuck up about that damned train,” Schlatt seethed. You never once thought you would ever agree with your twin, but here you were nodding in agreement and shooting a glare at Wilbur’s direction. The brunet merely stopped his singing and reshuffled his cards, the sound making an ugly cacophony and grating at your ears. 

“Not my fault you two don’t want to talk to me. I’m just making due with what I’ve been given.” He dealt the cards out in piles and started yet another game of solitaire. Seriously, how many games of solitaire can one play before they lose it? You supposed that you’d find out soon, Wilbur has been playing that monotonous card game nonstop for thirteen and a half years.

“Yeah, let the hombre chill! I like his music.” The masked man reached up to stroke his goatee, the scratching sound further penetrating your focus on your book. 

Everything was quiet before Mexican Dream's voice pierced it, "hey, did I ever tell you guys how beautiful my Mamacita was?"

"You told us millions of times, fuckface. You narrate entire love letters daily, so how could we not know how 'beautiful' she was?" You complained, not once looking up from your book. Schlatt snorted to himself and returned to his workout. Mexican Dream crossed his arms in anger, cursing you out under his breath. Wilbur merely glanced at you and rolled his eyes. "You know, I'm tired of your bitchy attitude. Let him talk about Mamacita, it's not his fault every time you think you love someone it fails." 

Your grip on your book tightened impossibly. If it were physically possible, the book would be crumbling to dust in your voice grip. You practically see red as you slowly dog-eared the worn page you were on and put your book down. 

"Oh shit," you heard Schlatt mumble and move away from you, Mexican Dream following suit. When you both were alive, your anger was always something you knew Schlatt feared. However, you knew that he's never seen you this angry; nobody has. The majority of what you've been holding in for almost fourteen years is about to be unleashed. 

"You know what I'm sick of, Wilbur?"

"Oh, do enlighten us."

"I'm sick of each and every single one of you. You three have been absolutely intolerable ever since you arrived. I was doing just fine alone and the universe just had to fuck everything up for me, just like it always does."

"There you go again," Wilbur laughed sardonically, "making everything about yourself." He gathered his cards and shuffled them repeatedly. 

"I make everything about myself?! Do you even hear yourself? Mr. Oh-I'm-such-a-disappointment-to-Philza, you wallow in self pity twenty-four seven! You fucking write every single song about yourself!”

"I didn't want to come here, okay?! I didn't think it was gonna be like this! God, I might as well be in hell with you here." 

"Believe me, my hell started fourteen years ago when you guys started showing up," you growled out, your ears flattening to the sides of your skull.

"Have you ever stopped to think that you're our hell? All you've done since we came here was complain and be a massive douche to all of us." He fluttered through the deck more and more as the argument escalated, the noise making you want to scream until you tasted blood.

"I'm the one that's in the wrong here? You fucked up my entire life. He," you pointed at Schlatt, "keeps beating me to death. And he," you jutted your chin towards Mexican Dream, "never shuts the hell up… Would you stop with that damn deck?! You're literally so fucking annoying." 

He narrowed his eyes, "make me."

A mixture of an animalistic growl and a guttural scream left your lips as you charged at him, your head tilted downwards so he could feel the brunt of your horns. He moved out of the way just in time, the side of your horn brushing against his arm. You crashed head first into the stone wall before you stabilized yourself and looked at the brunet with seething hatred. 

He was staring at you in shock, "how're you-" You used his shock to your advantage, throwing a right hook at his face. His head whipped to the side and his body followed, sending him to the ground in a heap.

"How am I still conscious? I'm a ram hybrid, dumbass. What'd you expect?" You huffed angrily before you pried the cards out of his hand and stalked over to the tracks. 

He scrambled up to stop you, but before he could even reach you, you held the deck over the tracks and looked down at him. You could just imagine how your horizontal pupils were blazing with fury. 

You reveled in the betrayal and animosity gleaming in his eyes as you dangled the thing he held dearest in this hell over the railroads. If you were to drop them, he'd never be able to see them again.

"We promised not to touch belongings on our first day here!" He yelled at you, his hands wrung in front of him nervously hiding the slight tremor. "Our first day here?" You scoffed, "the last time I checked, I was here for two years before any of you showed up." You gestured around the room in one angry swipe, the cards slipping slightly with how sweaty your hands were. It was then that you saw the fear in Schlatt's eyes. Good, that bastard should be scared of you. "If anything, you all are in my domain."

Wilbur flinched at the sight of the cards slowly slipping out of your hand, his breath hitching and panic stricken across his features. Mexican Dream stood up from his place and put his hands up. He was slowly approaching you like you were a cornered wild animal, making sure that you saw his every move. 

He nervously chuckled, "let's just put the cards down and have a nice talk. Doesn't that sound better than this, mi amigo?"

You shook the cards once again, taking in Wilbur's silent anguish with glee. "I'm not your friend, I'm anything but. Don't tell me what to fucking do or else that picture of Mamacita is the next to go."

"...Okay, you're in charge, man. Do what you want." He reluctantly sat back down next to Schlatt. The ram was watching in fear, yet it looked like he was entertained with what was happening. You couldn't blame him, the last interesting thing that happened was three full months ago when Tommy was taken. That and you probably looked feral at the moment.

"You understand that if you drop those, they're lost forever right?"

You threw your head back and laughed, "of course I know, why do you think I only have one sock? I already tried that shit out before you came." You hummed to yourself in thought, then grinned. Wilbur was going to love this.

While you shuffled the deck, you kept a close eye on the movement happening inside the cell. Another perk to being a ram hybrid was that you had a nearly 360 degree scope of everything around you. The only movement happening was the panicked breaths from Wilbur, good. You huffed in amusement, "alright Wilbur, let's do a card trick. I'd ask you to pick a card, any card, but I don't want to risk you fucking shit up again. So, I'm just going to draw for you." You drew a card from the middle of the deck and showed it to him. "The eight of clubs, how fitting." 

"(Y/n), I don't know what you're getting at, but if you don't give me those cards right now-"

"Shut it, I'm not done. I'm going to shuffle this back into the deck, watch the hands." You kept eye contact with him as you shuffled the cards rigorously, the card you pulled long since hidden with the slight of a hand. After a bit of shuffling and reshuffling, you had sneakily put the card between the two halves and bridged them until the cards were in one pile with the eight of clubs on top. 

You chuckled and pulled the top card, once again showing it to him. "Is this your card?"

He nodded slightly, never once taking his eyes off from the deck. "Yes, now give it back to me!" The angry and anxious undertones were like music to your ears.

You tapped your chin in thought, "hm, I don't think I will. You've taken so much from me, it's only fair that I get some revenge." Without another word, you threw the cards behind your head and smiled widely at the sound of the fluttering down to the tracks. 

Wilbur launched himself forward with a frantic yell, his hands flailing to catch all of the cards before they were lost forever. He only succeeded in catching a few. 

His breath shuddered as he stared at the three cards in his hand: the five of diamonds, the four of spades, and the seven of hearts. The fate of the universe was on your side for once, perhaps preternaturally so. 

"You- do you realize what you just did?!" He spun around to face you. If humans could froth at the mouth, a full waterfall would be streaming through his gritted teeth. His eyes held the rage of a man that had just lost everything in one singular instant, the resentment swirling in his dark brown orbs. Several veins were bulging in his face and neck, painting the skin in a red hue.

You walked over to your book and plopped yourself down. "Yeah," you said with a nonchalant shrug of your shoulders. You opened up your book and started reading it again, leaving the man to his grief. 

Everything was quiet once more much to your delight. Though you read this book from cover to cover thousands of times, enough to know most of the words by heart, you were never able to fully enjoy and immerse yourself in it with them around. You took this time to reclaim your designated corner and spend some quality time reading. 

You spent hours with your nose buried deep in your book, savoring the peace. That was until it was snatched out of your hands and ripped away from you. You looked up in slight shock at the sight of Wilbur snapping it shut and walking over to the tracks. 

No. No. Nononono he can’t. That was the only thing keeping you sane. He can't just get rid of it when he's done so much towards you when you were alive. 

A wail left your mouth as you tackled him to the ground, your arms wrapped around his midsection. He crashed to the ground with a grunt, his forehead smacking against the painted yellow stone. You straddled his back and ripped the book away from him, throwing it across the room and away from the tracks. 

You grabbed a fist full of his hair after yanking off his beanie and tossing it into oblivion with his precious cards. You pulled his head up and leaned close to his ear, "you try that shit again and your hat and cards won't be the only things lost to the void." Venom was seeping through your every word, "do you understand me?" 

He merely jerked his head to the side, colliding it with your nose and mouth. You shouted in surprise and let him go in favor of holding your aching nose. You could feel the warmth of the blood pouring from it. Through teary eyes, you looked up at Wilbur as he grabbed your book and flung it against the wall of the opposite side of the tracks. You scampered to the edge and watched in horror as it disappeared into the void. 

Without warning, you were forced to the ground, a hand holding you by a horn and a knee between your shoulder blades. You struggled before a dark chuckle was heard, "if you keep moving, you'll slip! Do you really want that?" You begrudgingly stopped, realizing that he had all the power in this situation. If he wanted to, he could just slide you off from the platform and toss you away like throwing a piece of paper into the trash.

"Good, you're not as stupid as you were earlier today." He slid you forward, holding your upper body over the tracks by the horn. You came face to face with the swirling abyss that was the void, small shapes appearing from your eyes adjusting to the sudden lack of visual stimulant. Your breathing picked up as he lowered you slightly, "you don't wanna do this." 

"No, I do. Thirteen and a half years of having to be around you was hell, but the shit you pulled today just put the icing on the cake. Do you have any last words before you go?"

You grunted as he shook your head slightly, a slight pain coming from the base of your horn. "Fuck you." 

"How appropriate, now let's see if you'll come back this time. It'll be our fun little science experiment!"

He dropped your horn without a care in the world, sending you plummeting to your demise. A terrified scream ripped it's way out of your throat and you screwed your eyes tightly shut in preparation for the void. Your body came to a jerking halt as you held your breath, preparing for… whatever awaited you. However, nothing came.

You cracked open an eye only to be met with the uncanny inkyness, the invisible mist freezing your face and its frostbitten arms opened wide for you. But you never fell into its embrace. 

Instead, you were pulled back onto the platform. You laid on your stomach with your horn supporting your head staring at the wall, tracing every single nook and cranny of the bricks. Your chest heaved as you greedily gasped for air. You never thought you'd be so relieved to see the cement walls you've been trapped in for over a decade and a half.

You were once again pulled up into a now sitting position and leaned against the wall, your back touching the cool cement. Across from you, you saw Mexican Dream pinning a struggling Wilbur down to the floor. Wilbur's crazed eyes met you, piercing through your very being. However, that didn't affect you in the slightest; you almost were just wiped from existence completely, you stared into the abyss and it stared back at you.

You felt… strange, to say the least. While icy fear and adrenaline coursed through your veins, you felt warmth blossoming in you at the same time. It was like the void was an actual person, politely giving you some form of relief from the hell you've been subjected to for over a decade and a half. It was so welcoming, not terrifying like you initially thought it was. When your fingertips grazed its surface it felt freezing to the touch, yet you felt the staticky power it was showing you. In that split moment of touching it, you had already accepted the power it held over you. 

A hand softly slapped your cheek, "c'mon, (y/n). Talk to me." Your eyes drifted lazily to your twin. He was extremely pale, his eyes frantically searching your face for any sign of responsiveness. When you looked at him, he visibly relaxed. "It was so… so beautiful, Schlatt."

"Yeah, what the actual fuck did you just say? You almost just- just died for good dumbass." He looked at you incredulously, you could just see the cogs in his brain working hard to process what the hell he was seeing. 

You looked back at Wilbur, he had stopped struggling slightly and was instead looking at you with a hint of confusion shining through the crazed daze. Mexican Dream tilted his head, the mask skewing slightly to the side of his face. "Thank you, Wilbur. You've shown me that there's… there's more to this hellhole than suffering. There's beauty in the darkness." His struggling had come to a complete halt, now staring at you with the most confusion you've ever seen from him. You also saw a very small hint of fear from deep within his irises.

A calloused hand gripped your chin and forced you to look back at your twin. "What are you on," he hissed lowly, "the stuff that's comin outta your mouth right now is actually batshit insane. He almost just permanently murked you and you're fucking thanking him." 

"I haven't felt this at ease in nearly two decades. I feel ethereal, Schlatt, and it's all thanks to him." You let your eyes drift over to Wilbur. Giving him a content smile, you nodded your thanks at him.

The next few days went by tensely for the others, eyeing your every move and keeping you away from the ledge. You had only peered over the ledge once since then, it was just so alluring to you. It was nothing, yet everything at the same time. Mexican Dream had pulled you back to the opposite end of the room by your horns. The part that disturbed the three men was that you said absolutely nothing about it. You didn't even struggle against it, you just laid limp and let it happen. 

With each passing second you spent away from the void, the feeling of utter peace was rapidly draining from your body; instead being replaced by icy fear, paranoia, and the realization that you were almost completely swallowed whole by the void. 

After coming back to your senses, you didn't allow anybody near you. Your instincts going haywire and screaming that they were going to hurt you if they came close. The last time Schlatt tried touching you, you damn near took his finger off. They didn't bother trying to approach you anymore, instead glancing at you from the corners of their eyes. Wilbur was perhaps the one you feared the most, you knew that if he didn't hesitate to toss you away the first time, he would surely do it a second time. He spent most of his time staring at you, you didn't know if he was zoned out or not.

Everybody was against you, you knew it. You just knew it. They were plotting to toss you back into the void. That thing- or was it an entity? Whatever it was held a power over you that you didn't know was possible. That trance that it put you in, the craving you felt, was something that was repeating like a broken record in your mind. You could still feel the void calling out to you, it was terrifying. 

You spent most of the time huddled in your corner staring at the fingers that had grazed the textured nothingness. You could still feel the buzzing and popping of the power on your fingertips, that inky residue staining your skin wouldn't come off. No matter how hard you scrubbed, scratched, or scraped, it would not leave your body. It was freezing.

The oncoming train screeching to a gradual stop was perhaps the only thing you fully acknowledged outside of your safety bubble in days. You watched in shock as it stopped at the platform. The doors opened with a fwoosh, fog pouring out onto the smooth stone floors. 

Out stepped Dream, the smile etched into his cracked mask sent chills to your core. Next to him was… was another Wilbur? How in the name of Ender was that even possible? 

This Wilbur was different though. This one was desaturated. This one didn't have an insane glint in his eyes, this one had grief shimmering in the tears that steamed on his cheeks. This one was broken compared to the well established man against the wall. This one was defenseless. 

Dream shoved him to the center of the room, the man falling to his hands and knees. Sobs escaped his mouth as steam left his skin and drifted along the sides of his face before dissolving into the air. 

"Got a new plaything for you guys, this one isn't as… fun as Wilbur is though." Dream's head turned towards you before it tilted. "What happened there? Did our dear little (y/n) get too close to the void?" 

"They are none of your concern, pandejo," Mexican Dream seethed at his counterpart from his position next to the train. "Why are you even here, man?"

"Oh, I'm just here to make a trade. I'm afraid that I'll have to give you guys Ghostbur here in exchange for Wilbur."

Wilbur stared at him with pure hope and glee springing up in his eye for the first time in over a decade. "Really?" 

Dream chuckled, "yes, really. What, do you really think I'd lie to you?" 

"I don't know, ya smiley freak. You've been known to fuck people over." Schlatt scoffed, his ear flicking in annoyance. 

"I'm telling the truth this time. Wilbur, come with me." 

Stars shone in his eyes as he reveled in the sight of the open train doors. He followed the masked man with a skip in his step, ecstatic giggles leaving his mouth as he boarded. 

Anger flooded you as you purse your lips together and you darted towards the train. The doors were closing already, if you could just- 

The door shut with a clank, blocking you from freedom. Your clenched fists banged against the window, glowering at the sight of Wilbur's happiness and Dream looking at you with a wave.

"You fucking bastard! Take me, he doesn't deserve it! He threw his goddamned life away, you're wasting your time with him!" Your angry shouts were ignored by the two however as the train once again started moving with a small hiss. 

A frustrated scream left your mouth as you pummeled the iron with your fists as it moved. If only you could find a train car to jump onto- 

Now. You leapt from the platform towards the junction between two of the train cars. However, your leap of faith was set to a halt midair by Schlatt holding your upper arms. You thrashed against him, desperate to get back to the land of the living, desperate to leave this godforsaken hell called the afterlife, but once again, you were torn away from what you were trying to achieve. 

You fell limp as you watched the last train car pass the platform and disappear down the tracks and into the void. The next possible time it would show it’s face would be in a few months if you were lucky. You let him take you back to your corner, your feet limply being drug against the floor. After you were plopped back down, you stared at the clone of your ex. You were pretty sure Dream said that his name was ‘Ghostbur’. What a strange name, yet you supposed that it was fitting for Wilbur’s apparition. 

“Are ya done with your little ‘moment’, (y/n)?” Schlatt was kneeling in front of you, his hands prepared to grab you if you made a run for it. Though his tone was annoyed, you could detect the very small worried undertone of his voice. 

You nodded and watched as he took a seat next to you, also staring at the newcomer. This is the closest he’s sat next to you in years. 

“...What do you think of the clone over there?” You hummed to yourself, “he looks pathetic, but I think that might be the only thing he and Wilbur share.” 

Mexican Dream took a seat next to you, slinging an arm over your shoulders. Normally, you would’ve shrugged him off, but you were too emotionally drained to do so. “Si, he does look kinda weak. But I think our new hombre here has promise.” 

“Promise for what?” Schlatt snorted. Mexican Dream hesitated, “...I don’t know. This is gonna be interesting, mis amigos.” 

“The party’s just begun, boys. Buckle up, this is gonna be a wild fucking ride.” You mused to them, unsure of what the future would hold with the newcomer. Though after a couple of years, you were sure you were going to hate him; that is if he’s nothing like his clone. Ender help you if he’s anything like Wilbur. 

As you stared at the broken man, you couldn’t help but wonder: why did he get to go back? As far as you were concerned, psychopaths like him do not deserve a second chance at life. If anything, it should be you boarding that train. It should be you getting a second chance. He was the one that so readily threw his life away while you had yours ripped away from you.

One continuous thought was circling in your mind: why couldn’t it have been me?

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

You wrung your hands together as you anxiously waited for Tommy, Ghostbur, and Friend outside of Pandora’s Vault. Ranboo and Tubbo sat next to you in the grass, giving you silent comfort with their presence. You were mainly worried for your boyfriend, his worst fear was Dream using the resurrection book on him. You had calmed him down from a panic attack prior to meeting up with the teenagers, begging him to let you go in his place. Of course, Ghostbur being the caring and brave soul he was, wove you off and ensured that he’d be okay. 

When you saw someone emerging from the portal, you leapt to your feet and steadied your head on your shoulders before you examined the people emerging. Except you only saw a human and a sheep, no ghost. 

Tommy looked pale and on the verge of tears as he led Friend towards you. Before he spoke, he used his sleeve to wipe at his tears. 

“Hey, Tommy! How did it- where’s Ghostbur?” The enderman hybrid stretched his usually slouched back to peer at the portal, keen eyes searching for any sign of movement. 

“I think he’s dead… He’s dead!” 

Tubbo tilted his head and looked up at the blond in confusion, “well, yeah. He’s a ghost. Of course he’s dead.” Ranboo nodded in agreement, “yeah, he can’t die again. That just isn’t possible.”

You said nothing (not like you could in the first place, your head wasn’t connected to your body), looking into Tommy’s eyes inquisitively. They were chock full of panic, grief, and fear, staring down at the lead in his clenched hands. 

“No, no you don’t understand, it’s not that he’s dead… it’s that Wilbur’s back.”

“Hold on, the Wilbur that blew up L’Manberg? That Wilbur?” Ranboo peered down at him incredulously. “Yes! C’mon, he- we gotta get to L’Manberg.” 

He spun around and led Friend towards L’Manberg, walking quickly with a purpose. You, Ranboo, and Tubbo followed. You hugged your head close to your chest, your eyes peeking over your arms. It was always something you’ve done whenever you were scared or worried about something. You heard stories about Wilbur from your nephew, if the stories of his insanity terrified you, you’d hate to see the man in person. 

“I was about to kill Dream, and- and Ghostbur died. Dream revived Wilbur… Fuck!” Tommy walked faster, L’Manberg far off in the distance. With one hand, you grabbed the blond’s attention and finger spelled, ‘are you serious? He’s actually gone?’

“Yes! How many times do I have to explain this?! Ghostbur isn’t with us anymore and Wilbur’s back. Wilbur’s back and we’re absolutely fucked.” He turned on his heel and resumed his beeline towards the crater in the wall. No, he couldn’t be gone. This was just a cruel prank they were pulling on you, right? 

Tubbo put a comforting hand on your shoulder, giving you a small sympathetic smile. You leaned into his touch slightly and carried on, stepping into the makeshift staircase behind Tommy. 

You moved your arms to cover your eyes as you stepped aside to make room for the other two teenagers. You heard a voice; it sounded exactly like Ghostbur’s voice, yet it sounded... off. You however remained hopeful and uncovered your eyes. 

The man that stood there certainly wasn’t your boyfriend. Everything about him was just so wrong. The emotion in his eyes, his clothing, his smile, his stance, his hair, everything. This was a completely different person. This was Wilbur Soot. 

“Hello again.” His eyes flicked around your group, his gaze lingering on you for longer than the rest. You noticed that he was staring at your neck, but that was okay. You were used to it; everybody did that. What you weren’t used to was the revulsion that flashed in his eyes. The eyes that once lovingly stared at you and reassured you that he’d love you even with your… condition were now filled with disgust. 

That was what broke you, the tears that you tried to hold in came streaming out like a waterfall. Stinging pain hit you as the water worked its way through the cloth of your uniform onto your arms, leaving steam floating upwards towards the cave ceiling. You phased through Ranboo’s body and made a mad dash towards your sister’s house. You needed her, you could feel a panic attack brewing inside you. Usually you would hate to be a bother to your older sister and Ghostbur would always calm you down, but now he’s…

You pushed that thought aside and focused completely on getting to Puffy’s house in the distance. You phased through the door without a thought to knock, frantically beginning your search for Puffy. 

You looked everywhere, but you couldn’t find her. Unable to cope any longer, you fell to your knees in the middle of the living room and hugged your head to your chest, your face being pushed against your uniform. Your shoulders shook with silent painful sobs, the only sound in the room being the sizzling of your skin. 

Why couldn’t it have been you? It should be Ghostbur standing there in that cavern, not Wilbur. This was completely your fault, you should’ve gone instead of him. You should’ve volunteered quicker than he did, you shouldn’t have let him talk you into it with his soothing words. Now because of your complete and utter cowardice, he was stuck in the afterlife once again. You were never going to see him any time soon. Your other half was ripped away from you because of your inaction. 

Between sobs, your lips repeatedly formed the same phrase: why couldn’t it have been me?

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[chubbology]

Overindulged

prompt: feeder boyfriend quits his job and balloons as fat as his feedee/feeder girlfriend

He drove his sleek BMW up his driveway and into the middle garage just as dusk settled into night. He’d stayed overtime at work again, and to make it up to his girlfriend, three dozen fresh assorted donuts sat in the passenger seat.

Sure enough, immediately upon opening the back door with his stack of boxes, he heard her voice: “Late.”

“It’s the end of the month,” he said. “What do you expect? Brought you something though, so don’t be mad. Come in here.”

He set the boxes down on the granite island, then waited, sucking in a breath. His pupils dilated as his favorite person in the world waddled through the wide archway leading into the kitchen. After giving him a pout, she pulled the boxes toward her with arms that hung, at their heaviest, over half a foot with fat.

She was a beautiful, enormous woman. He had met her on a plane three years ago on a business trip to Paris. She’d pulled him into conversation like a warm whirlpool, and he’d listened in awe to her life story: miserable wife of a banker to a happily divorced entrepreneur, flying first class on her own dime.

With a smug, knowing smile, she talked about how she used to be skinny for her ex’s sake and now was free. He couldn’t help but let his gaze roam over her blatantly overweight body. Thighs pressing firm on either armrest of the wide seat, bust prominent and heavy, belly button deep and visible through her dress.

Bad news is, she’d concluded, I just settled a messy lawsuit that lost me my career and nearly bankrupted me. But she shrugged, as if such was life. I’m taking my last-hurrah vacation until I have no choice but to eat tiny, unsatisfying meals again.

He decided that couldn’t come to pass, so he spent as much time with her outside his business obligations as he could, taking her to meal after meal, falling in love as she ate to her heart’s content and shamelessly talked about how she’d rather fallen in love with gaining weight. It titillated and empowered her. By the end of their two week stay in Paris, she was twelve pounds bigger and he had invited her to live with him for a while as she looked for a new career path. She accepted.

Three years later, she’d found her calling without having to leave his luxurious, spacious home. Doing what she loved.

She was almost four hundred and fifty pounds now, last he was updated. She always wore leggings that clung to every lump and bulge of cellulite, and she liked to tease him by wearing crop tops, letting her massive belly and side rolls hang out and wobble as they pleased.

He watched with soft eyes as she stuffed herself with four jelly-filled doughnuts. Between bites she said, “These long hours at your soulless job are no good. My fans want to see more of you.” More eating. “The last time you fed me on camera was weeks ago!”

She gave him an imploring look as she ate a fifth doughnut. Boston creme. Her face, once conventionally pretty, now had a sexy overindulged look. She’d lost her jawline to additional chins and neck fat, and her round, fatty cheeks quivered as she chewed. Even before she finished the fifth doughnut, she picked up a sixth. “And don’t think they haven’t noticed that little tummy you have now.”

“What?” He looked down at himself, blushing at how his tie sat out a bit on slightly stretched white buttons.

Before he could say anything, she pushed a chocolate doughnut in his hand. “I know people willing to pay a pretty petty to see you chunk out.” She smirked. “Pop a couple of those buttons.”

He laughed dismissively, but as he ate the doughnut, he contemplated the press of his new chub against his shirt. His pants felt a little tight in the ass, too, now that he thought about it. What if? he thought.

Suddenly, he found himself admitting: “I’ve been thinking of quitting.”

Her eyebrows rose.

“I want to spend more time with you,” he explained. He hadn’t meant to talk about it now, but here he was. Out of nervousness, he pulled one of the boxes toward himself and picked another doughnut, this one caving in under its sprinkles. He took a heavenly bite. “I have plenty of money saved and invested to take care of both of us for a long time. I just don’t see why I…”

She waddled over to his side of the island and took his free hand. “You know I’d support you.” Then she pulled him closer, into a smiling kiss. “I’ll support you real good.”

*

Before his two week notice even ended, he was eight pounds heavier, and he relished how his coworkers’ eyes lingered on his burgeoning waistline. Soon, his tummy was pushing over his pants. His chest felt thicker. He felt his ass spread wider when he sat down. He ate desserts all the time, and his girlfriend lavished him with attention (food) at every opportunity when he was home, encouraging him to eat in amounts he’d never let himself eat before. She started filming - with his consent, as always - the development of his chubbing up. Her fans loved him even more than they already did, compliments coming in faster than he could read them.

One month into being an unemployed man, she stuffed him on camera until one of his shirt buttons popped off. The experience was more of a revelation for him than even becoming officially overweight; that night, after she went to sleep, he got out of bed, squeezed into an old pair of slacks that barely fit him, then gorged himself in the kitchen until he gasped at the relief of his ass seam tearing open, unable to accommodate his butt, which everyone online said was growing gorgeously fat. His heart fluttered just thinking about it, and he hoped his ass kept growing.

It did.

“I admit, I never thought you’d be this much of a pear,” his girlfriend told him, six months into his steady ballooning. They were admiring his progress in the large bathroom mirror. He may have looked small relative to his partner’s morbid obesity, but somehow, they were both more fascinated with his growth at the moment. She outlined his bottom heavy figure with her hands. Fat had indeed stored most eagerly in his ass, thighs, and hips. His belly drooped soft and wide.

“I love it,” she said. “Love everything about you.” But then something else came into her expression. “Except how you’ve stopped picking up after yourself.”

He swallowed, and said honestly, “Sorry. I know I’m getting lazier.”

“We’ll have to hire a maid.” She grinned wickedly. “Or do two pigs deserve to roll in their sty?”

*

A year into living on his passive income and her subscribers, the couple had not yet hired any cleaning services, and his country club house was...well. Not trashed, but messy and disorganized. She blamed the five pounds she’d lost over the past month on having to constantly throw his trash away. She punished him by making him stand while drinking a whole liter of full-sugar soda. Since he’d developed a strong distaste for any physical effort as he sunk deeper into obesity, he grumbled the whole time. When he finally fell back on the couch, she sat too. Together, they took up most of it. But while she looked perfectly composed, he was panting raggedly, slightly sweaty, a food stain on his pants.

“Look.” She reached out and held his chubby wrist. “I can tell that the fatter you get, the more your natural inclination is to be a pig.” She spoke with total matter-of-factness. As if the emergence of his inner pig was unsurprising and inevitable. “It’s not uncommon in men - that urge to oink and eat as a way of life. But we share this space. I help pay off this house. Please throw away your take out containers.”

Then she added, at his long-suffering sigh, “I’ll reward you.”

He met her gaze. “Tonight?”

“Tonight.”

*

This time, there were no cameras. There was just her, sitting on one side of their king bed and him on the other, breathing heavy, taking her reward one bite at a time.

Everywhere in their bed were containers and packages and napkins and soda bottles. He had eaten mexican and noodles and burgers and fries. He’d eaten candy bars and sundaes and milkshakes and chunky cookies. He was so full he could feel the skin of his belly stretching. He could practically feel the skin of his thighs stretching, as if they were filling up heavier with fat right then, as he was determinedly overfed. He swallowed another bite of greasy cheeseburger.

“Keep going. I can tell you're slowing down, but I’ll have none of that yet. I want to see progress from you.”

“I don’t know…”

“Do you want to feel the ecstasy of squeezing through a doorframe or are you going to plateau at being just fat?”

He let out a breathy moan as he ate another bite of the cheeseburger. His girlfriend knew him too well. She knew he liked the new challenges being big was causing him. She knew it turned him on that he sat so much fatter in his own car, belly pressing against everything, ass barely fitting at all. She knew his hands had begun cupping his hips as a half-unconscious habit, admiring his own width.

He liked how his thighs had to push past each other, jiggling every time. He even liked when he accidentally bumped into things, because it was a hot reminder that he wasn’t the same. He was like her now. He was fat. He was a pig. He wanted to eat and get so big he could barely even waddle. He wanted to squeeze through doorways. He wanted to get stuck.

“I want everything,” he said. And she smiled, temporarily pleased.

*

Thank you to the reader who commissioned this work!

I'd love to write more. Check me out <3 etsy.com/shop/Chubbology

[danielxricciardo]

He feels like home.

This was requested by @stelena-klayley. Sorry it is so short but I tried to keep it sweet and simple.

Summary: Your mother asks how your relationship is

Warnings: fluff

Word count: 800

66. “He feels like home.”

"Well? How's your relationship?" your mother asks you both once you got comfortable on the couch. You look at Max. He was blushing hard and you were sure you were the same.

How is your relationship?

It’s a healthy loving relationship that you think is sustainable for the long run. You do have your crazy moments and you do occasionally fight, but that’s normal.

Being in love is one thing but it takes a lot to keep that commitment to sustain that love in the long run from two individuals in a love relationship.

The basis of any serious relationship should be respect, trust, honesty, and loyalty.

Looks are not everything irrespective of gender.

In the long run, what matters is the personality and compatibility between two individuals.

The fundamental thing about him is he gets you. He knows exactly what you are and has chosen to spend the rest of his life with you. Just like any other individual, you have certain traits, characteristics, and quirks that can be kind of annoying to people. For some reason, he doesn't find those things annoying.

Your laziness on some matters does drive him kind of crazy and you are not a fan of his obsession with ensuring everything is in order. That tends to be the source of your fights. You always make up within a couple of hours, so things are going to be fine in the future. You share many core values about life and you are both mature to know that everything's meant to be broken so you don't make a fuss about little things like kids.

Not to get too sappy, but you miss him a lot when he travels for the races. You can't always attend them because of your work schedule and when you two are apart, it feels like hell. He has to call you to make sure you ate because you would feel too miserable without him and you would just stay in bed all day. Waking up next to him, getting a morning kiss, hugging him before you leave to work, messing around with him is just a little bonus when you are both in Monaco. You don't think you've ever felt this way about a man before.

Even though being in a relationship means you’re a “we,” you’re still encouraged to embrace all the things that make you, you. Not only should you be yourself—you should be the best version of yourself. In a healthy relationship, your partner will accept you exactly the way you are. They’ll never try to make you into someone or something you aren’t. And he did push you to become your best self. You saw him train every day and you went too and started training with him every day. You started eating healthy with him. Sure, you were still a little lazy, but who wasn't?

When two parties are willing to work together in order to maintain a healthy relationship, there is little that can happen to ruin that relationship. There are many qualities and factors that contribute to a healthy and long-lasting relationship. Namely, these are: communication, respect, and support. Without these, a friendship is destined to crash and burn.

Starting a fresh relationship with someone is always fun and interesting. They might teach you new things throughout time and also bring out new things about yourself that you probably didn’t know. Meeting someone new brings high hopes. It is always a good feeling knowing that person has the same interest in you as you do for them. A person might come into your life while you are going through something stressful, so that person can turn into an escape from all the drama going on in your life. Causing that person to mean a lot to you in a short period of time. This can be both, good and bad.

When you two met, thanks to your mutual friend Pierre, you didn't look for a boyfriend. You just ended a relationship that, after a year, had become toxic. Max had been alone for some time and wanted to find someone, and when he saw you, he knew he had to do everything in his power to get to know you and accept a date from him. And you did. Because, nobody knew that, but you had a crush on Max and you were incredibly happy when Pierre told you he would introduce you. He felt like home from the first moment.

“It's really great!" you answer your mother and touch Max's hand. "He feels like home.”

Your mother seemed delighted with your answer and smiled at you. You looked at Max and he kissed you on the forehead quickly.

"I love you," he whispers.

"I love you too."

[andvys]

Fine line part two 

warnings: angst, slow burn

pairing: Ellie Williams x reader (eventually)

author’s note: hi! I'm sorry if the first few chapters are gonna seem a little boring, I promise it’s gonna get a whole lot better!

The next day you woke up feeling even more tired and exhausted than the day before and for some reason your back felt really sore, you could probably blame it on the sofa. 

After you came home yesterday you went straight into the bedroom, packed your backpack and prepared yourself for the upcoming trip. You couldn't wait to get out of Jackson after finding your boyfriend, well, ex boyfriend cheating on you. 

You felt nothing but hate and disgust for that man and for some reason it wasn't even hard to hate him. 

Instead of sleeping in your bed you decided to sleep on the sofa in the living room, you sure as hell wouldn't sleep in the same bed where he probably cheated on you.

It was 6 am now and Ethan wasn't home yet, you knew his shift ended at 5 am. He was supposed to be home a long time ago, you didn't need to think hard enough to know where he was right now. ‘At least I won't have to see him right now.’ you thought to yourself.

You felt stupid for not realizing that he was cheating on you earlier. The signs have been there for a while now but you ignored them. He always came late or he had to take double shifts, his behavior was off and he couldn't even look you in the eye. 

To be fair you had to take double shifts as well after the herd attacked, so you didn't even think anything of it but still the way he behaved around you was enough to know that there was something going on.

What annoyed you was that you had to find out through Ellie. Out of all people it had to be her, she was probably celebrating your miserableness right now and now you had to spend weeks alone with her, she would probably make it a living hell.

Snapping out of your thoughts, you put your shoes on, grabbed your backpack and left your house.

-

When you arrived at the gates, Ellie was already there, along with Joel, Maria and Tommy, it looked like Joel was showing her something on the map.

“good morning.” you smiled at them, ignoring Ellie’s gaze on you.

“good morning y/n.” they greeted you. 

“did you get a good night’s sleep kid?” Joel asked. 

“yeah.” you lied, you barely slept last night, your mind was racing, you were mad at Ethan and you were anxious about the trip.

“that’s good, it’s probably the last time you got to sleep well for a while now.” Maria said. 

It was true, you knew you wouldn't sleep well out there, even when someone was with you. 

“that’s true.”

“alright, well you should go now. We explained everything to Ellie, already, she’s gonna fill you in.” Maria told you. 

Great, more conversations with the girl that hates you.

“you take care of each other out there alright?” Joel said, looking at both you and Ellie.

Ellie nodded her head.

“of course.” you told him, smiling at him. You knew he was worried about Ellie, you remember how worried he was when Ellie just started going on patrols.

He hugged Ellie tightly before hugging you as well. 

You liked Joel, he was one of the people in Jackson, who was never pushy about anything or who asked too many questions, if anything he was the one who made you feel most comfortable here.

“good luck out there.” Tommy said, smiling at you.

“thank you, see you soon.” you told them before looking at Ellie, who was watching you intently. 

They said their goodbyes before leaving but not before Joel hugged Ellie one last time, making you smile to yourself. It was sweet to see the older man this way.

“let’s go.” you said once they left.

Just when you were about to walk through the gates, you heard your name being called causing you to halt in your steps.

Anger rushed through you when you heard his voice, you clenched your jaw and curled your hand up into a fist.

“y/n wait!” 

Ellie glanced at you as you turned around.

He stopped in front of you, “hey babe, leaving witho-

You interrupted him with a punch to his face.

He cried out in pain and surprise as his nose made a loud cracking noise, his hand came up to his face, clutching his nose in pain.

Ellie looked at you in surprise, she didn’t expect this kind of a reaction from you but she was impressed. He deserved to be punched a long time ago.

You heard someone gasp, looking over his shoulder, you found a few people staring at you in shock. 

You were lucky Maria already left or you’d get some real scolding right now.

“what the fuck y/n?!” he exclaimed “what is wrong with you?”

“what is wrong with me?” you chuckled “fuck you, we’re over, go back to your bitch.” you told him angrily.

He looked at you in shook, his eyes widened and he tried to say something but no words came out.

You glared at him before turning around to leave. 

Ellie stood back for a second, impressed about you punching him. Looking at Ethan, she smirked at him before turning around to follow you.

Seeing you being so violant towards the guy that she hated so much made you seem a little bit more likable now.

-

“that was a good punch.” you heard Ellie say after a while. 

You were walking for hours now, you were sure it was afternoon already.

You were surprised to hear her say something, so far there wasn't much conversation between you, you only talked about the trip and what Joel told her.

Looking over at her, you noticed that she was looking at you.

You almost had to laugh at the look on her face, it seemed to be really hard for her to give you a compliment, if that could even count as one.

“thanks?” you said, furrowing your brows. 

She nodded before looking away again. 

“can I ask you something?” you asked.

“sure.” she mumbled, sounding annoyed.

"why did you tell me.. or- why did you tell me to go look?” you asked, talking about last night.

She frowned at your question and looked at you. 

“why wouldn't I?” she asked 

You snorted “well, you hate me.” you pointed out, looking at her “so.. you could’ve just ignored that and let me find out differently.”

“I hate Ethan more though, seeing him miserable is kind of nice plus seeing him getting punched was kinda worth it.” she shrugged.

You chuckled “why do you hate him so much?” you asked, you were genuinely curious about her answer.

A weird expression appeared on her face, it was a mixture between hatred, anger and something else that you couldn't make out.

“He’s a dick.” she pointed out “and he's good for nothing, I mean, he can’t even fight or use a gun properly.” she scoffed, shaking her head.

You couldn't help but chuckle. It was kind of true, he really was bad with guns and fighting wasn't his thing either.

“alright..” you mumbled, as you looked at her once more before going back to looking out for infected.

-

You were walking through a wooded area when you came across a small cabin.

Ellie looked at her map, realizing that it’s the cabin Joel marked on the map. 

“we should rest in there, Joel said it’s safe.” Ellie told you.

“alright.” 

It was getting dark and cold outside, it was about time to fine a place to set up camp in. Being outside at this time wasn't safe.

This was the moment you dreaded the most, you hated going to sleep whenever you were outside of Jackson. It didn't matter if you were alone or with someone, you never felt safe outside, to sleep.

Ellie grabbed the keys out of her backpack Joel gave her and opened the door.

Walking inside you turned your flashlight on, since it was too dark in the cabin to see anything, you shut the door and locked it with the keys Ellie gave you after she unlocked the door.

“hold on.” Ellie said as she found a fireplace in the middle of the room. 

There was enough wood laying there to start a fire, Ellie took care of it while you walked around the cabin, making sure that this place was actually safe, the door was locked and there were no broken windows so there was no way that it wasn't safe but still, you could never know.

Once you made sure everything was safe you went back to where Ellie was, who was sitting on the sofa, looking at the map again. 

The room was light now and you could see more, it was cozy but it was small, so there wasn't much space to get away from Ellie.

You pulled your backpack off and put it on the floor, you looked around the room before sitting down on the chair by the table in the kitchen area.

Looking at Ellie, you noticed she had a frown on her face, well, it looked like a frown, she was just really concentrated. 

Her being distracted gave you the chance to watch her, you always thought she was beautiful, those green eyes of hers made you feel weird whenever she would look at you. 

It was probably because you knew how much she hated you. 

You had to admit, Ellie was the prettiest girl you have ever seen in your life but she was probably the most infuriating person you have met and you couldn't help but hate her at times, especially when she was being a complete asshole to you. 

You tried to befriend her at first but she just kept being in asshole to you so you stopped trying, knowing that you were never gonna be friends with the girl.

It got even worse when you started dating Ethan, if she was mean before then she definitely became even worse after that.

You knew they hated each other but you never found out why. You never noticed them glaring at each other or making mean comments before you and Ethan started dating, it happened shortly after you got together, so you had no idea what that was about.

“what?!” Ellie asked, snapping out of your thoughts you realized you were staring at her and she just catched you. 

You blushed before looking away, you hated it whenever someone would find you staring at them, it made you feel like a creep.

“nothing.” you mumbled. 

“sure.” she scoffed before grabbing her backpack and getting up to walk towards the kitchen area where you were sitting. 

She sat down on the chair opposite of you and pulled some food out of her backpack. 

‘Jerky of course’ you thought to yourself. Dina told you about how Ellie would steal jerky all the time, when she just came to Jackson, fearing that they'd run out of food.

It was kinda cute, imagining her teenage self stuffing her pockets with bags of jerky. Shaking your head. Ellie was not cute.

“eat something.” she said. 

“I'm not hungry.” you mumbled, crossing your arms over your chest, you leaned back in your chair and watched her as she looked at you with a stern expression on her face.

Seeing Ethan cheat on you made you feel sick. 

Deep down you knew it didn't hurt you the way it was supposed to hurt you, you just felt disgusted by him.

You knew you didn't give him what he wanted from you, you were dating for a while and you avoided his touch all the time, you didn't know why but you always felt gross whenever he would touch you.

Not sleeping with him didn't give him an excuse to cheat on you though, he could've just left you, if he wasn't happy. 

You didn't even know why you didn't leave him sooner, you didn't even love him, you never did. 

You didn't know why you started dating him in the first place.

“you okay?” Ellie asked, noticing the frown on your face.

“yeah.” you mumbled, getting up from the chair you looked at Ellie who was watching you already “there’s a bedroom, you can sleep there, I'll take the couch.” you told her, not giving her a chance to say anything before you walked over to the couch and sat down, taking your shoes off before you laid back against the soft cushion, you looked at the ceiling and tried to think of something that would distract you from your disgusting ex boyfriend.

Ellie looked back at you, she sighed in annoyance before getting up to go into the bedroom. 

She turned on the flash light and looked around the room. The bed was big enough for two but there was no way that she would share the bed with you.

She put her backpack on the floor by the door and looked at the two blankets on the bed, she knew there were none on the couch and you would probably freeze at night. 

She thought about it for a second before shaking her head, ‘you were in the bedroom before, you knew there were blankets, you would've taken one if you needed it.’ she thought to herself.

She took her shoes off and laid down on the bed, covering herself with one of the blankets. Thinking about today, she realized it wasn't bad for a first day, you weren't bitchy or annoying but she was sure it was yet to come. 

Unable to fall asleep she looked at the ceiling before looking down at the other blanket. ‘y/n must be freezing right now.’ she thought to herself.

She didn't like you but she still felt bad to know that you were sleeping on the couch without a blanket or a pillow while she got to have the whole bed for herself.

She rolled her eyes before throwing the blanket off her, sitting up she grabbed the other blanket and went back to you.

“hey I hav-” she started before realizing that you were sleeping already. 

She walked over to you and checked if you were actually sleeping before covering you with the blanket. 

She looked down at you, you looked so peaceful right now, it was rare to see you this way. You were always stressed and Ellie was sure she has never seen you without a frown on your face. 

She hated to admit it but you looked beautiful this way, you looked beautiful either way, even with that frown on your face. 

Shaking her head, she frowned at her thoughts before turning around to walk back into the bedroom.

She knew this trip would change your relationship, she just hoped you wouldn't hate each other even more after that.

[blzzrdstryr]

Reveries of turmoil

Yandere!Childe x fatui!reader

[Previous chapter]

Just as you predicted that short and stifled conversation was a portent of future changes. Childe stopped trying to talk to you outside the business, he even avoided your eyes in those rare moments when you looked at him first. Normally obnoxious and persistent Harbinger seemed to deflate in your presence, as his swaggering and blustering attitude disappeared within mere moments.

You would be overjoyed for this turn of events, if you didn’t have any experience of dealing with and tolerating Tartaglia. Childe, as you already established, is a chaos personified, an erratic whirlwind that twists and ruins everything in its way wrapped in human skin and caged by human bones. It wouldn’t be a surprise if some nasty complications arose out of this faux armistice and sneaked upon your unsuspecting self.

Ajax wont do anything drastic, you reassure yourself - the Rite of Descension gets closer and closer with each passing day, he just can't afford to fail this, meaning that he will have to keep you on-field. It would be logical to do so, let you work, but logical sometimes means predictable and nothing about Ajax is predictable.

Fortunately he continued to keep this strange distance as days passed. Was your little episode and words you said to him enough to stop him in his pursuit? Maybe it truly hurt him, maybe it made him see how miserable he was making you, maybe his obsession with you ceased to exist, it’s flames fizzling and going out just as fast as they ignited. You doubt all of it, yet continue to hope for the better, despite the evidence of the opposite shoved in your face.

Ajax will never let go of you, not in the way you want. He killed and tortured people right before your eyes, sometimes had you assist him in doing so. Most of the time this was done in Tsaritsa’s name, for the future of Snezhnaya and her people, just another working assignment regardless of the blood curdling screams and alien agony.

However, in some rare cases the torment of others isn’t something that is totally impersonal to you, sometimes you’re the main cause. Childe is possessive, terribly so. He watches over you like a dragon guarding his gold, scaring away other possible admirers. And if his title and reputation wasn’t enough to keep away whatever poor sod who decided to tempt the dragon, well, other way more grim methods were used.

You never personally witnessed these kinds of torture, but you heard rumours and sometimes saw the bodies after, images that keep reappearing in your nightmares. Maybe this lull is nothing but a quiet before the storm, a short breather after he commits some unforgettable atrocity again.

He personally summons you the day before the Descension. You brace yourself for incoming nonsense, except nothing comes. ���Agent [Last]”, he says, his voice tense and restrained.”I need you to attend the Rite of Descension with me. You will be disguised as a civilian", and then he dismisses you, no hint of mind games he likes to play in sight.

You want to hope that he changed, you succeed and fail at the same time - this new Ajax is pleasant, he’s cold and disinterested, just like any boss should be, yet you just can’t relax and focus wholly on doing the job - it’s a privilege only those who haven’t met Tartaglia can afford.

He’s a sea, treacherous and ever changing, calm and serene in one moment, yet violent and crushing in the other.

You spend the day torn between the anxious thoughts of Tartaglia and what he might do and the preparation for upcoming ceremony - it's a once in a lifetime event, it's Tsaritsa’s will and hope, it's Ajax’s eyes focused on you. You can’t afford to fail, you have no right to do so.

Wearing a simple Snezhnayan overcoat with nothing hiding your face is surely strange after years of donning a fatui uniform. Tourists and Liyuens alike pass by, not paying you any attention. Both vision and delusion glow under the thick fabric, asking you to use them.

You walk faster.

The top of the Yujing Terrace is lit with sunlight and full of human sounds, as merchants and other workers haste to finish their tasks and join the people at the top. You look around, quickly noticing the familiar ginger - he stays half-turned to you, his eyes focused on the figure of Tianquan. You quickly avert your gaze, as if not recognizing him, and shift it towards other people - you spot two vision holders among the crowd too - an electro and geo one, and a strange person cladded in the exotic clothes with some sort of flying fairy(?) floating around.

You walk to the altar placing Liyuen flowers nearby the multiple offerings of food, wine and gold, their simple white petals contrasting against the gaudy luxury of the rest.

"Qingxin flowers?", someone suddenly says, a speck of genuine surprise evident in the phrase. Their voice is too close for your comfort - you quickly turn on the heels, alarmed by a person somehow sneaking up on you only to be met with a pair of the golden eyes.

It’s a nicely dressed Liyuen gentleman, with the air of wisdom and elegance surrounding him, an inner dignity shining from beneath, and most importantly the one you saw wearing a vision at the back of the coat. You try to look as calm as possible, despite the senses telling you otherwise - after years of service any vision holder unadorned by the Fatui colors is perceived as a threat.

“Yes, it is”, you quip back, not wanting to look suspicious: “Is this improper? Qingxin as an offering?”, you mimic a light concern - something that would be appropriate for the foreign merchant who might have offended the god of commerce.

“No, not at all”, Liyuen laughs: “just in all of my years, I have never seen anyone offer these flowers”.

“Huh”, you smile, looking at the man before you. Is he a simple liyuen you thought of him at first? He has Geo vision - the symbol of Archaic Lord’s recognition - and the way he said “all of my years” carry more weight than usual, a mark of something hidden beneath the mundane phrase.

“Something tells me, you must have attended every rite of Descension”, you continue, the starter vague and innocent enough - a perfect way to fish out more information. For some reason, his golden eyes widen a bit, it’s subtle and quick enough to go unnoticed by most people, but you’re not the most people - all Fatui agents are trained to catch even the smallest changes and educated in multiple fields, physiognomy included.

What could have caused such a reaction and why did he react the way he did? The Rite of Descension is a prominent event in the life of every Liyuen, even if it’s annual, as thousands of thousands of people traverse great distances to see their god fly down from the heavens and grace his subjects with the wisdom of countless years. You remember seeing Liyuens living in Snezhnaya consistently take a leave every year for a week, when the prominent date showed on the horizon, missing working days and no doubt a lot of nerves, only to see the archon of their homeland.

So why did that man looks so surprised?

“You’re quite perceptive, aren’t you?”, he responds, voice calm and pleasant, despite the masterfully hidden surprise: “And yes, I have always tried my best to be at every Rite to this day. Rex Lapis shares his experience with his people, so it’s an incredibly important day. And what about you? What brings a foreigner here?”, he makes a gesture at your obviously snezhnayan clothes.

“Well, I am a travelling merchant as you can see”, you raise your hands, showing him more of the coat: “Having blessing from the God of Commerce won't hurt, right?". He, again, reacts in the way you haven't anticipated, a handsome face adopting a contemplating expression for a short second.

"Rex Lapis rewards diligent people, work hard and he shall bless you too", he says with an air of wisdom around him, like an old enlightened monk passing his knowledge to the disciples surrounding him: "And you shouldn't keep your vision beneath the layers of cloth. I feel its chill just standing here, who knows what it will do to your body?".

Then he simply turns away and goes to the exit of Yujing terrace, and it’s your turn to suppress the rising agitation - how did he know, where’s he heading now?

“Wait”, you say: “why are you leaving?”

“I dedicated my whole life to my job, which consists of a collection of small and incredibly repetitive tasks, they took up most of my attention and I slowly, but surely became a creature of habit, deaf and blind outside its limited field of experience and comfort zone. Time never stops, so I decided to leave the work I’ve been entrusted with, and I want to start it by breaking my strongest habit - religiously attending every Rite of Descension”.

“Ah”, you reply, equally impressed by his speech, and feeling that you are talking about two completely different and unrelated topics: “well, good luck on that”.

More and more people flood the terrace as one of the main threats to your plans finally arrives - stern and ambitious, Ningguang looks as elegant and intimidating as ever, geo vision and the tassel attached to it, shaking with every graceful step. She throws a short glance at Tartaglia - he stands surrounded by the rest of the agents - yet her face doesn’t change even a bit, whatever hostility she may hold for your faction masterfully suppressed.

You quickly look around - tourists and citizens arrive at the last minutes and milleliths come with them. Soon, all of the exits are heavily guarded by at least four soldiers, all carrying spears and clad in armour - surely a necessary precaution, given the presence of Fatui and their Harbinger.

There are no milleliths among the crowd though, not in the on-duty uniform at least. You study the group again, this time looking for anyone with weapons, as someone lightly pushes you away - it’s that foreigner again. “I am sorry, we need to go closer”, the pixie-like creature apologizes, as it flies after the stranger, and you conclude that there are no armed people, except you, Tartaglia, milleliths, Ningguang and that strange person.

“The hour is upon us”, Tianquan starts, after looking at the bright sun above, two women around her slightly bowing down, as she invokes the power of geo. The gold glow surrounds and illuminates her whole figure, before condensing into hard rocks of the same shade. They shine and fly around her for a bit, leaving the yellow trails behind before starting to spin around the shrine in the middle of the rock table.

Soon the golden inscriptions on the shrine start to glow too, before it sends a bright orange beam into the blue sky. The crowd "Oh!"s and "Ah!"s as the clouds deform around the pillar of light.

Tension, so thick it can be tasted, descends in the waves upon the Terrace as some - carefree and ignorant - hold their breaths in excitement and anticipation, whilst the rest focus in caution - Fatui and Qingxin alike. You shift, taking out both vision and delusion out of your coat, as your eyes frantically shift between Tianquan, Tartaglia and the spiraling clouds above, your whole being ready to aid Childe in his mission.

And then something unexpected happens: a majestic dragon does descend to his people. By falling straight to the ground. Serpentine body slumps around the crushed offerings, elongated tongue escaping the confines of the maw.

A long second of absolute silence passes before Ningguang collects herself, checks the body and orders milleliths to close off all the exits, as the crowd erupts into turmoil and chaos realizing what exactly has happened. You disguise amongst the panicking masses, hiding two glowing orbs in the deep pockets of your coat,before looking at Tartaglia again - he in turn intently stares at the blonde foreigner, who quite clumsily tries to sneak past the soldiers.

Milleliths catch onto that running after the stranger and you use this opportunity, turning invisible in the same second. People around you are too panicked to question your sudden disappearance or the unnaturally cold breeze swaying past them, as you make your way - Childe has already departed, chasing after the group of soldiers, and Ningguang is seen leaving too, giving the last orders, before turning to the Yuehai pavillion.

You contemplate for a second, unsure what to do - Tartaglia has ordered you to aid him in case of Qixing intervention, there was nothing about the death of your target and the glimpse into Tianquan’s actions might be a key to solving the mystery of said departure. The thing that you plan to do is opportunistic, reckless even - who would have known that Ajax will rub off onto you? You chase after Ningguang, careful to keep yourself invisible.

Who is Rex Lapis’ murderer?

She goes up to the aged man standing at the stairs of the pavilion, they exchange a couple of words before Ningguang steps up on the little floating island and it starts to levitate! You run after her, still unsure what to do - the platform is too small, Tianquan will no doubt feel the chill coming from you, but the opportunity to learn what Qixing are planning is too good to miss.

In the end, you come to compromise, jumping after the rising platform, as your hands clutch into its rough protrusions and you grit your teeth, enduring the pain and cold from the vision overuse. The little island rises higher and higher, as people and buildings underneath turn into small dots. Your fingers start to slide off a couple of times, yet you grab onto the island with a renewed strength everytime that happens, asking Tsaritsa to let fortune favour you.

The platform finally stops moving, and you pull up, once you hear her heels clicking away.

Jade chamber, as it turns out, exceeds all rumours, luxurious and opulent, shining above the prosperous city, it glows under the sunlight with a golden radiance. You would have stopped to admire it if it wasn’t for your goal. You sneak after Ningguang, following her to the office as she takes out papers and folders from the shelves. She focuses on them, as you carefully step near her, glancing at what she’s reading - it’s reports of fatui activity throughout the months, leading to this day, thankfully vague and very far from reality.

Does it mean that she also has no idea of what or who caused Rex Lapis’ death and tries to find his killer? Or does it mean that she looks for a way to deduct Fatui's next actions?

You don’t have time to contemplate, as the frost worsens and you feel cryo energy exhausting from the overuse - one more minute and you’ll become visible. You quickly walk away - you don’t have enough time to reach that platform, so you do the most logical thing - fling yourself out of the window, opening the wings of the glider halfway the jump.

You push the most of your invisibility, letting go of the cryo powers once you're only a couple of meters above the ground. In the end you find yourself tired and frozen to the very bones, slowly coming back to the Northland bank.

***

You approach the building as the Sun begins to set - its pink-orange rays dying everything in the warm glow. The bank looks glorious like that, sinking in the reddish tones, it looks like an illustration out of children’s books - a place of something miraculous, a place of something hopeful.

“Hi”, you throw to the tired Vlad and he nods, after suppressing an escaping yawn: “Is boss here?”

“Yeah”, he croaks, drowsiness evident in his speech: “came back like an hour or two ago. Can’t really remember”.

“Huh.. Well, thanks”, and with these words you enter the bank, pushing the doors and preparing yourself for the confrontation to come.

After chatting with Ekaterina and confirming that yes, he is in his office, you head for the staircase, all of the information you learned today buzzing inside your head.

Childe sits, hunched over the papers, as you enter, not paying you even the sliver of attention. For some reason he’s in a different clothes.

“Eleventh Harbinger”, you start the standard greeting, all formal and stiff: “this subordinate has finished the task”.

This finally prompts him to raise his head, cold blue eyes look at you, no hint of the usual obsessiveness in sight: "you may speak, agent" he succinctly says, putting the writing feather aside. You quickly report to him all you have seen today, without your own thoughts involved - they’re just baseless theories, after all.

“So you say, Tianquan was reading the reports about Fatui activity. Haven’t you destroyed those reports earlier?”

“Those papers contained nothing about the current situation, they were actually far from reality, I doubt that any of those reports survived the fire”.

“Seems, I’ll have to take your word for it”, a sigh, he leans closer in his seat, propping left cheek on the palm: “Why did Tianquan look at them? What was she trying to do? Pin her crime on us?”, he glances at you again, gesturing that you can speak your mind and you do.

“Highly unlikely, sir. From the short time I spent watching her and her reputation, I have an impression that Qixing Tianquan is a person who prefers to plan her every action. If she or any other Qixing higher up, were the one who murdered our target, then every needed preparation would be done months, if not even years in advance. She would somehow cast us as the killers right at the ceremony, in front of thousands of Liyuens, making us a scapegoat for public outrage and creating alibi for herself”.

“So, that’s how you think”, he hums, blue eyes deep in thought: “Your entire conclusion is based on the mere impression. With Tianquan’s ambition I wouldn’t be surprised if she was the one behind this...”, a vague hand gesture: “catastrophic situation”.

“When I sneaked inside the Jade chamber, she looked very frantic, it didn’t show on her face, but her movements were harsh and quick, lacking any of her elegance. She looked like she tried to keep herself together”.

“Anyone would try to do that, especially after killing a god”, he looks somewhere to the left, no doubt imagining battling the dead archon: “Well, my conclusion isn’t based on anything solid either. We don’t know who killed Rex Lapis, but we still need to somehow obtain his gnosis”, the last part isn’t addressed directly to you, it seems that Ajax just decided to voice out his worries.

“You can go”, he says, standing up from the table. You are touching the door handle, when you hear him asking:”what’s with your hand?”. The tone is nothing like that time, yet shivers still go up your spine when you remember what happened that day.

"Frostbite, from my vision", he comes closer to you, hand outstretched to yours: “Can I?”, he asks and waits for your faint nod, before gently pulling it closer to his face.

“It’s a second degree”, he mumbles, inspecting the white-blue discolorations and small angry blisters - the skin throbs and aches at his touch, yet most of it remains numb, muffled, like sounds underwater: “You should get it treated”.

“I should”, you agree, eager to leave this room and situation: “I will ask medics for some..”

“I already discharged them”, his hand suddenly shifts, now resting atop of the door handle, his frame suddenly looming over you: “I have a medkit here, with the ointments and balms. Maybe you should stay here and let me patch you up?”

Why did you even think that Childe could change?

***

Ajax has you sitting on his chair, with sleeves rolled up to the very elbows, as he frets around you - checking the temperature, pulling the warm water closer to you and taking out needed medicine out of the kit. It’s mostly silent, except the tune he quietly hums - Childe looks peaceful and content like this, maybe he likes caring for you.

“Does it hurt?”, he takes a discolored finger, probing around the blister, as the warm hydro energy engulfs your damaged hand. The burst of sensation explodes at this action - pain, tingling, throbbing, even relief.

“Bearable”.

“Understood”, Childe gets back to his task, continuing to rewarm your hands, still humming that tune as he does so. He takes out the healing ointment, when the healthy color and warmth returns to your limbs and spreads it on the skin, bitter herbal scent filling the room in an instant.

“[First]”, he says, as he rubs the place between the index and middle fingers: “I think we need to talk. About that day and your reaction”.

“And what about it?”, you respond, too quickly and snappy for the calm-facade - the memories of that day, of what you thought he will do to you, of how he witnessed you falling apart - all of these are too much, a maelstrom of conflicted feelings rising every time your thoughts stray to this topic. He finishes applying the balm and now switches to the bandanges, wrapping treated hands in them.

“Don’t you think you treat me too harshly, [First]? I understand I may have been… unpleasant in the Past, but I thought we moved past that. What have I done to warrant such ire?”, he says it with his usual smile, but there's a tense, heavy tinge in his words. It’s subtle enough to miss, but you knew Ajax since you both were fourteen, so the strain doesn’t go unnoticed.

Everything, you want to coldly respond, but you stop yourself again - Ajax is still a Harbinger, even if he trailed your steps at the training camp like an overeager and highly murderous puppy not even a decade ago, no matter your own feelings or sentiments or even experiences he still holds that power over you, whether he realizes it or not.

“There were.. things”, broken bones, coppery scent of blood, someone else screams: “training with you wasn’t pleasant for sure”. Childe laughs at the last part, yet the tension clouding in the air doesn’t dissipate, turning more tangible instead.

“I see”, a long pause: “I want to prove you're wrong, I want to prove you that I will never do something against your will”.

You already did. You stay silent at that, anger and fury and frustration boiling underneath, burning and scorching your insides like a magma moments before the eruption. His hands finally wrap the last layer of bandage, tying the ends into a neat little bow, yet he doesn’t let your palm out of your hold, as his lips hover over it, breath burning the skin even through the fabric. And then he releases it, not doing anything.

“Good luck with that”, you finally suppress the inner storm, and stand up from the chair, quickly heading to the door. The place where he almost kissed your tingles and throbs with a renewed strength. Your cheeks burn for some reason.