#which is why im unsure on the white face paint?

[aggressionbread]

new look

[silasopossum]

just got the notification that my base is officially in transit to the USA, so im gonna discuss my plans for him rq :]

so basically, all my fursonas have historically been feline (once i got over my horse art phase. i was never really connected to my horse sona anyways). i WOULD have gotten a feline headbase, but the problem with that is very few makers specifically sell a BOBCAT base, it's usually a canadian lynx or domestic cat or lion or something. cool, but i love focusing on small details in species differences so it would bug me forever if i put my bobcat fursona on a canadian lynx base. the other issue is that if i DID make a fursuit for my bobcat sona, i would 100% want a realistic base, since her cartoony design changes so often. plenty of makers sell realistic 3d printed or resin bases, however i am NOT confident in my ability to transfer a realistic design onto a base myself (especially since most realism fursuits involve airbrushing. i dont think i could do that well in an ideal environment, much less my 115 square foot bedroom which is my only workspace). i just dont feel i would be able to do her justice... and i wouldnt really want a toony styled head for my actual fursona.

and making a base myself isn't an option because 1. i cant even sculpt clay symmetrically, it'd drive me crazy if i tried it and 2. aforementioned tiny apartment problems. im not dealing with foam going everywhere... OR learning how to 3d model and print or resin pour or whatever else people use to make fursuits.

so i was looking through makers just for funsies and then i found the opossum base by ligris cybernetics / ligrisprints. and idk why but every ounce of my impulsive body decided "YES. OPOSSUM FURSUIT. NOW." ive never even had an opossum fursona before so i have no idea why i was suddenly so sure about it. but i was! so i decided to just make a new character specifically for this project.

i decided on the name silas (at the URL implies) and i designed a quick character on the fly, based entirely off of photos of real opossums instead of already having an idea. this was interesting for me, since i didnt realize how common the white spots on opossum ears are? i always thought they were only black, but most photos i found showed a little bit of pink/white so i added it to the design

(quick sketch, drawn over the sale image on ligris cybernetics' website. i also loosely based this off of the stylization of my one other opossum character's design. the black bits under the eyes are going to be eyelashes, cut out of felt. the grey will PROBABLY be fur markings, but i might change that to black felt too)

opossums are also fairly easy to design, since they are typically recognizable with only two fur colors (white and grey), and their faces are usually mostly white. it'll be easier for me if i only have to buy two fur colors.

another thing i'm planning on is having handpaws- this will be easy since opossums always have naked fingers... so i'm planning on just buying a pair of fingerless gloves and adding fur to the glove part and leaving my fingers out. will be much easier to wear too

one thing im unsure of is how to fur a moving jaw... ill need to look up some tutorials for this. because i think if i dont add at least a little fur around the hinge, the mouth will look way too wide...

another small issue is that this maker tells tpu ears for basically any species EXCEPT opossums. so my plan is to buy some fosshape plastic and make ears out of that? ill also add minky fur OR felt to them to add the color patterns. i havent decided between the two yet, but i think painting the ears would look strange? even if it's technically more accurate for the real animal.

i also got some fur color swatches a few weeks ago. getting swatches from fursuitsupplies, i tried out baby pink monster, silver lux fox, super short white, silver beaver, and silver lux shag. i like the color of the silver lux fox best, but the texture of the lux shag seems better for an opossum character, so i'm unsure. the beaver feels nice but is too short for what i want the longer bits of fur to be. the super short is nice, but i will still probably get the fur all in one length and just shave it. the monster fur feels gross to touch so i'm definitely not using that. i already know what minky fabric is like so i didn't bother getting samples for that (but i probably will order samples when i decide concretely on what fur to get once the base comes in, just to be sure of the color before i spend money on it).

i'm thinking of covering the nose of the base with pink minky OR pink felt, but i'm not sure if that would work with the base, so i'll decide that once i actually get my hands on it. otherwise, i will be painting it. i also think i'm gonna make a tongue with minky fabric

tail will also be a thing. since opossum tails are prehensile, i want to make it posable... i thought about using plastic ball joints / doll spines, but i know from my longfurby adventures that those are kind of heavy, so i think i will use wire instead.

not gonna bother with a bodysuit, those sound hellish to walk around in. i'm just gonna wear long sleeves and long pants

another thing i an excited / nervous about is adding hair... i want silas to have hair. SPECIFICALLY revenge era gerard way hair

and i know a lot of fursuit makers create hair by putting together pulled-out yarn OR brushing out fur both ways... but i don't like how that looks. since if were meant to believe that a plush in the case of a fursuit tail is flesh, and fur is their actual skin/fur... then it's just like... amorphous globosus... or a gigantic skin tag / tumor... TO ME... many fursuits make this look amazing don't get me wrong but i just couldnt get it out of my head if it was on my own suit. so i decided that i'm going to try and weft the hair, like in this tutorial? https://www.tiktok.com/@chaoticreations/video/7334668616350092577 (sorry for tiktok link, i know this creator uploads to youtube but i couldn't find the short) and this one https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vo4FCmT1DP8 i'm thinking that depending on how i'm able to fur the head, i might be able to make a kind of wig thing that magnets on? i don't want to add the hair directly onto the head in case it looks like shit and i get tired of it, so i want it easily removable. might use velcro instead... also want it really long in the back.

i also got the eye mesh pre-installed on the head by the maker. which will be easy for me if i like it... however i DID request slit pupils and i'm second guessing that decision right now. i'm also unsure if i shouldve made them green instead of grey... but i guess i'll see it once it arrives :]

i also was JUST barely in the sizing for a "small" size head according to this maker, but just to be safe i ordered a "medium" size head instead. if it's to big (which it probably will be), i'm going to add foam inside, which will probably make it more comfortable anyways. iirc you can also use foam to hide the hinges in moving jaws? so i can just use the foam for that too. not sure yet.

and i already have sandpaper and stuff for sanding down the 3d print. just gotta wait for it to arrive... probably a month since it's gonna go from poland to the usa... if it gets lost in shipping i WILL cry (since mail people love to just not deliver to my apartment complex. because apartments are haaaaaaaard to deliver to (even though all the doors are easily accessible from the street with no key necessary)...)

[dunnswrld]

johnny with an innocent reader? he finds it so hot that she's so innocent and she just wants him to make her feel good

I LOVE MY DIRTY ANONS

nsfw/smut themes! virgin fem!reader, innocence is brought up (not in a child-like way!!!), neck kisses/hickies

“i’ve never done anything like this before knox.”

is what fell from your sweet lips as you looked up at johnny as he looked down at you. the only thing covering you was one of your band tees and your pretty white underwear.

“you’re a virgin?”

your face began to burn from embarrassment at the question, trying to move your eyes everywhere but johnnys. your statement beforehand confirming you were in fact a virgin so why did he have to even ask? you thought it would totally turn johnny off from the fact he was really about to sleep with a virgin.

johnnys cheeks glew a bright pink as the rest of his body tensed when he picked up the answer to his question through your body language.

“have you ever done like foreplay?”

“no, i havent. thanks for making me feel like a total loser knox, really.”

you shifted your eyes away from his, your cheeks burned red from embarrassment. you were under maybe one of the hottest guys you’ve seen and you ruined any chance you had with him by saying you were a virgin- johnny probably thought you were a prude and who wants to sleep with a prude?

maybe you shouldve just gotten it over with with an ex.

but to your surprise johnny thought you were everything but a loser, he thought you were maybe even hotter than you were before you told him. he was really your first time?

it made johnny feel cocky almost- he was able to take your v-card and no one else after him. he was able to take that one piece of innocence you had left. (which wasn’t much speaking you were dating a jackass member)

and the way you laid under him, big doe eyes and rosey pink cheeks didn’t help the whole innocent look. along with your cute white underwear and oversized band tee.

“you’re not a loser doll.”

“you’re just saying that.”

“no, im not. hell i think it’s hotter than wearing a minx coat in hot tennessee summer heat.”

you couldn’t help but laugh at johnny’s stupid comparison, causing a rather cocky grin to form on johnny’s pink lips.

johnny lowered himself down to your neck where he began to place gentle kisses randomly on your skin. his hands placed firmly on your waist as your hands would move to his shoulders and gently hold them in place, maybe even moving him closer to your body in hopes he would stop kissing your neck the way he was.

it made his the tent in his pants throb even harder when your hands began moved up and done his body, unsure where to stay. your touch was needy and almost innocent, none of the girls he has slept with were like this and he really liked it.

johnny pulled away fully from you and your neck with swollen pink lips that were releasing quick breaths from the lack of air he was receiving while kissing all over your neck. his hands laid on his sides as he seemed to straddle you in the position he was in. he looked done at you and saw an angel below him.

he thought of an angel because you truly looked so beautiful to him right now. your big doe eyes that looked at him through your lashes, your pink rosey cheeks, and your pink lips that panted quick in and out breathes. all you needed was a halo a top of your head to complete the look.

he also thought of an angel just because of how innocent you looked to him, your eyes really painting the picture of innocence in his mind. they looked needy but not sure what they needed.

you had been getting so worked up over johnny’s rather small action of kissing your neck that it really showed how you lacked in the department of doing things sexual, but god did he love it.

and when you spoke up softly and dragged johnny out of his thoughts it seemed to put the cherry on top of all his fantasies.

“johnny? could you please touch me again? felt so good.”

this was better than any of johnny’s shitty fantasies about you.

thats all johnny needed to hear before he slowly moved back down to your body and place his hands on your waist again, this time slipping his hands under your shirt to feel your soft skin on his rough palms.

he began to trail kisses from your collar bones up to your ear, making sure that some of those kisses would leave deep purple hickies on your skin and when he finally got close to your ear he gently bit your ear lobe causing a soft gasp to fall from your lips and a low chuckle to fall from johnnys. johnny would bring his lips up to your ear more before he gently whispered,

“gonna make you feel so good just like ya want doll. better than you ever have felt, i promise.”

[dancingazaleas]

𖨆. 05 / all for us

summary: after the recent incident, you don’t feel a real reason to live. so why try to live?

note: this was supposed to be longer, but i loved how it ended. i’m also a suffering from headaches again. please be patient with me. also, PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS IVE LISTED. this is a DARK chapter.

taglist: @the-sun-baby @voltairelesecond @baelo80 @uniquepickle @ascybous @saturnalya @messyhairday-me @stupid-stinky

word count: 1.4k

warnings/notes: cursing, suicidal thoughts, self harm, attempt of suicide, dark, panic attack

YOU lay on the floor of your closet once again, the scratchy carpet being the only thing that provided you with warmth. the only person you'd seen for the past few days was erwin. anytime he'd even mention levi, you'd beg for him not to see you.

you groan quietly, deciding to go lay in your bed for a while so your skin won't keep itching. your foot chills when it touches the hardwood floor of your room, and it distracts you from the task at hand.

you're dizzy now, only being able to focus on your foot. it didn't help much since you collapsed onto your side, breathing heavily through your nose as you stare blankly to the wall. you haven't stood up for hours, opting to leave the closet only to go to the restroom.

you blink while getting back onto your feet, hand pressed against your head as if you were soothing it. you decide to go to the bathroom, if you go now that means you won't have to go later.

you watch your hands afterwards, tired eyes watching your reflection in the crystal clear mirror.

your face was bruised, you have a black eye and a deep cut on your cheek from levi's wedding band.

you look back down to your hands, wanting to focus on something else in order to soothe yourself. you don't bother to dry your hands off with a towel, opting to shaking them around in the air.

your feet drag against the floor as you jump into your bed, body smoothly sliding across it so your head rests against a pillow. you curl up under the covers, genuine warmth crashing against your body for the first time in days. it's almost overwhelming, but you can't find it in yourself to care.

you watch a movie to help pass the first hour and a half of you being outside of the closet. you play another movie for background noise, getting off of your bed and walking to the bookshelf.

you grab a black book with white font, grabbing a smaller blanket and throwing it over your lap once you sit in a chair.

you’re going to read some of this book and then retreat back to your safe space whenever they come to feed you.

even though you’re reading the story, you can barely comprehend the words along with the plot line. everything seems to be a jumbled mess inside of your mind, so much that it makes your head hurt right behind your eyes. time stretches longer than you meant for it to as you keep rereading all the sentences, hoping to gain at least a tiny bit of understanding.

you’re attention is taken away by the sound of the door opening and closing. you’d been so focused you hadn’t even noticed that someone was coming to see you. and not only was it someone, it was levi.

the book falls out of your hands and onto the floor, eyes wide as you stare at levi with fear.

he’s holding your tray of food for lunch, which you don’t think you’ll be eating today since it’s not erwin who’s going to feed you.

levi tries not to get irritated at the way your body is trembling. he hasn’t even said a single word and you’re already cowering.

when levi steps closer, you jump out of the chair and into the corner furthest from him. you cry out for erwin, for help, anyone that will be able to take levi away from you.

it startles levi for a moment, but it’s soon replaced with frustration as he makes another step.

you scream while tears gush out of your eyes, nailing planting onto the wall you’re up against. levi angrily puts the tray of food down onto your windowsill, metal and glass clinking against one another in unsynchronized harmony.

for whatever reason, it has you screeching with you dropping to the floor and cover your head with your arms. levi’s worried and goes to make a move towards you, but you’re too frightened to think.

your screeching has his head pounding, so much that he’s silently praying that erwin would just come in already.

“i’m—i’m trying to fucking help!” he barks at you, stomping his foot onto the hardwood flooring.

you jump once more, protecting yourself more than before.

levi goes to scream again, but he’s interrupted by the door to your room slamming open.

erwin’s there, half dressed and messy hair while his eyes frantically scan the area. his eyes widen at the sight of your cowering, quickly rushing over to you to sit in front of you.

“what happened,” he asks levi while cautiously pressing a hand to your knee.

“i just walked in and she just went batshit,” levi says with exasperation, confusion and anger flashing on his face.

“get out. you scare her,” he orders with furrowed brows, stroking the skin of your kneecap with his thumb.

levi scoffs but listens anyways, shutting the door behind him.

“my love, everything’s okay. it’s just us now,” he murmurs sweetly, managing to coax you out of your panicked state just a bit.

“us? j... just us,” your voice is shaky as your hand absentmindedly reaches out for erwin.

“yes, just us,” he confirms with a smile, managing to gather you in his large arms.

you continue to cry, only this time you can breathe.

“can’t be with ‘im... i’m scared,” you admit while attaching yourself to erwin, “so scared.”

shushing you, he coos, “you can, i believe in you.”

wrong choice.

“no! no! NO,” you start to trash in his arms, once again entering the almost inconsolable mind state.

since he wasn’t expecting your panicked reactions, you manage to kick him in the chest and push him away. his body bangs against the stool of your vanity, knocking it onto his side with a loud crash.

levi runs back inside, watching how you jump to your feet and over to your vanity. erwin manages to scoot further away from you, slightly unsure of your next move.

you’re sobbing uncontrollably as you slam your fast into your vanity’s mirror. it’s so clean, not a smudge on it. not even a speck of lint. it’s perfect.

the shards cut your hand, but you don’t care, too high on adrenaline. levi and erwin go to disarm you just as you manage to grasp a particularly large and sharp shard of glass.

the moment it’s in your hand, you raise your opposite wrist to the glass while screaming at the two men.

“NOT ANOTHER STEP,” you cry as you push the glass against your skin, freezing both levi and erwin, “not another fucking step or i kill myself with this shard right fucking here.”

“(name), my love, it’s alright! it’s okay! no one’s going to hurt you,” erwin barely moves an inch while he pleads, but you don’t care.

“I SAID NOT ANOTHER STEP!!” you roar while slicing the glass against your skin, blood immediately pouring from the new wound.

dark red paints the glass as your finger swipes against the blood by accident.

“get out,” you whimper, “just leave me alone to die, please.”

“we can’t do that,” levi says calmly, accidentally taking a step out of instinct.

it feels comparable to flour whenever the blade slices through your pretty skin. it burns and you know that you might end up having to get stitches from just how deep it is if you want to live. and considering you can only really get stitches from hospitals, you say your goodbyes in your head.

“if you can’t do that,” your vision is starting to grow hazy as your breath comes out ragged, “then, i’ll just kill myself right here, knife at the vein.”

this is the only way you’ll be free again. the only way you’ll be away from them. the only way you’ll probably ever get to see your friends again.

your hope has dwindled into nothing. you know you cannot get away, not in a million years. now, there’s only one way to escape. death.

and by god if you let one of them slaughter you.

and so, you slash your arm once more right against the vein. blood oozes from the wound with ease while your eyes roll back and your knees hit the floor. the last thing you see is erwin and levi running towards you with panicked looks on their faces. it almost makes you laugh.

you hope to see them in hell.

[fullbusterfantasmic]

Love Potion ♋️ Chapter 4.7

Rated M

It’s all NSFW (As it should be)

1,933 words

A/N: The first position mentioned is called the butterfly or some shit (maybe?) idfk but I like it, & the second is the reverse cowgirl. Formatting is wonky, I know please look past it.

🌬Gray’s POV

The shine her eyes had held has begun to rapidly be overtaken as the (e/c) darkens, while she beckons me closer.

Her mouth is right beside my ear as she says;

“Ravish me...lay your claim on me...let every touch from you send me reeling, and begging for more...show me everything you’ve imagined doing to me and lastly...share every feeling you’ve kept hidden from me”.

The intense requests she made ignites a fire somewhere within me. Flames are rapidly consuming the protective layers of ice I’d long ago placed over my heart. Barriers erected after Deliora’s first attack, reinforced following the death of Ur...gone in an instant. Her tongue runs along the outer shell of my ear, lips placing a kiss to my temple. Pulling away, she then collapses back onto the pillows behind her, now surveying me through darkened, heavily lidded eyes.

My teeth clench as the familiar darkness begins to surface and my internal struggle begins. She asked for it....so why not give it to her? I shouldn’t...I....I’m ready to...no I NEED to let her in that now open space within my heart, within my very barren soul.

You don’t know what you do to me...

✨Your Pov

Im nervous...

I may have asked too much, it was too soon for me to come on so strongly! He still has yet to look at me, and his long bangs obscure his eyes from view.

“Gray I-“

I began to try and retract my previous statement but he interupts me. “From the very first moment I laid eyes on you I thought you were the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen....and the most dangerous...” he moves out from between my legs, motioning for me to lay on my side. “ I knew if I got close to you I’d end up falling for you and that would put you at risk...”. One of his legs now rest underneath mine and my other rests over the top of his.

“Try as I might, I couldn’t force myself to get or stay away from you; somehow we always end up spending time together” he pauses, pressing a kiss to my temple before continuing; “ -and now we’re here...”.

The room is growing colder once more, goosebumps cover my exposed flesh and I lightly begin to shiver. My entire body is shaking by the time his voice reaches my ear; “With all that being said...I’m done explaining myself, and I’m done talking”.

“Now I’m going to fuck you senseless, this entire town will know you’re mine by sunrise” The vow is whispered to me in such an intimate way, it has my internal walls fluttering, before clenching around nothing. That is soon remedied; A surprised turned pleasurable cry slips out from between my lips as Gray effortlessly slides into me.

This position is a first for me, and experiencing it with this god like man...Said position has quickly become a “10 out of 10, must do again”. He holds my body so closely against his, and somehow those skilled fingers are still roaming up and down my sides. Occasionally pausing their ministrations to ghost across my chest or rub tantalizing circles Into my clit. The angle in which he thrusts into me puts the head of his cock in the perfect position to hit my G-spot each and every time he bottoms out.

The whole “I’m finished talking now” line was absolute bullshit! As soon the smug Ice mage was balls deep inside me, did the sinful whispers begin. Dear God! That deep husky voice alternating between uttering the most endearing things, having my eyes growing wet with tears. Only to make a flawless transition into speaking the most obscene and sensual promises (or threats), have my face continuing to burn red.

I was an absolute wreck.

“You should see yourself right now...Completely fucked out of your mind, slobbering all over, and tear stains coating your cheeks...yet still so breathtaking”. My enthralled lover may no longer be whispering, but the chill of his breath on my neck is still ever present. I don’t speak, I knew my ability of coherent speech had vanished long ago.

Gray doesn’t need my words to go off of now, not when my breath hitches and my body jerks involuntarily. “This one will be....number four right?” He sounds so proud. That wasn’t really a question, and I wouldn’t of answered it even if I could have.

As much as I craved release, my pride urged me to deny it. A small voice inside my head is saying; “Ignore the relentless tingling of your clit, the tight wound knot in your stomach, the pressure from that magnificent cock sinking itself into your deepest depths...”.

Dammit ___________, get it together!

You are a proud Fairy Tail mage; A living embodiment of strength, determination, and destroyer of adversity! You’ve let this man turn you into putty within his hands, he thinks he owns you! Now it’s time for you to reclaim your pride and turn the tables on him!

Who am I kidding?

🌬Grays POV

“Holding back now are we?”

I can’t help but tease her when she’s trying so hard to hide the fact that I have her teetering on the edge of bliss. She lets out and annoyed huff and I poke one of her inflated cheeks, making sure my cock is buried inside of her as far as it can go.

“You take my cock so well baby, you’re already starting to shape to me on the inside...you’ll be my perfect little cock sleeve in no time” I murmured before giving her another nice dark love bite to match the one on the other side of her neck. “I know you want to drench my cock some more” my ice coated finger flicks against her clit before circling over it.

“Hah!” she shrieks at the frozen contact to her bundle of nerves, involuntarily jerking and in turn slamming her hips backwards, burying my dick inside her once more. The tip of my head just barely makes contact with her cervix, and then her walls suddenly contract, clamping down around me. I have to give every effort to not paint them white as not only her ecstatic wail reaches my ears, but I look down just in time to see her lightly spritz the hand id been using to play with her clit.

For a moment my brain begins to short circuit, and then it just shuts down completely.

✨ Your POV

That was....incredible.

Several minutes pass with my mind reeling from the intense orgasm I’d just experienced. It’s like I’m drunk, but not from the alcohol I’d consumed earlier. Drunk from the dopamine flooding my brain, and my heart swelling with overwhelming feelings of love. Love....love for the man currently sharing my bed.  Before I can turn to Gray and embarrass myself with a bunch of post orgasm love drunk rambling, I remember something....oh my god.

I sober up and am slammed back into reality almost instantly. My face begins to burn and I Stifle a cry of humiliation as I realize; I’d just squirted all over his hand! That’s never happened to me before! Gray hasn’t said one word...he’s been silent since it happened! He probably has a look of disgust on his face, I can’t bring myself to look and see.

I try to move,, intent on getting away to take refuge on the other side of the bed. His arms immediately constrict around me, “Oh no you don’t, you aren’t going anywhere!”.  Suddenly he’s flat on his back keeping a firm grip on my hips as I’m forced to straddle him. Glancing over my shoulder I see the proud smirk he’s wearing, then he speaks; “Never had a girl do that before...I like it” giving me a wink afterwards. “Sh-Shut u-up” I mumble as I return my gaze to the wall in front of me, breathing deeply in attempt to calm my palpitating heart.

“Y’know normally I’d give you a little break but... I can’t...not after seeing you do that” he pauses, and I can’t see his eyes roaming over my back side, but I feel his hands slide down from my hips. Then a sharp SMACK resounds around the room, followed by my startled gasp. “Ride me...now!” a fierce growl preludes another sharp smack to my other ass cheek.

I don’t even bother to stop the excited shake that over takes my body, the sudden change into this demanding demeanor is thrilling! Keeping my back to him, I’m quick to position myself over his length and begin to sink down on it. The soft mewl I emit is drowned out by a hiss as the tip of his dick slips between my lips. “That’s it...good girl” he praises as he begins to rub out the red marks on my ass.

Eager to please I get straight to work.

Albeit a bit awkward at first, but Im able to get a steady rhythm going in no time. “So much better than in my dreams...fuckin’ hell __________ your ass is perfect! Yeah that’s it babe, bounce it just like that” Gray mumbles appreciatively, completely enamored with the sight in front of him. “Dream about me often do you?” I tease, throwing him a smug glance over my shoulder. “More often than I’d ever care to admit, now turn around and face me would you?.

I do as he asked, rotating my body to face him. He gently pulls me down towards him and I stop short, my face now inches above his own. My stomach feels like it’s filled with butterflies at the sudden closeness. Unsure of what to do I quietly whisper an awkward sounding “Hi”. A wide grin appears on his face as he responds; “Hi” followed quickly by a chuckle at my sudden awkwardness.

Now we’re both smiling at each other like complete dorks, and I’m compelled to lean forward and kiss him. I resume my ride as his tongue curls around mine, quickly losing myself in the passion of this moment. Gray is quick to pick up the slack, thrusting his hips upward each time mine sink down. The atmosphere in the bedroom has changed, we both feel it. When I say his name again it comes out in a breathy whine.

His eyes reflect an emotion I’ve never seen in them before and his tone is gentle when he says “I know baby, hold on just a little longer for me”. Strong arms wind themselves tighter around me, drawing my body in as close as possible as he speeds up the pace of his thrusts. “I want to feel you gush all over my cock when I finally get to cum inside you” his lips are on mine again, kissing me passionately while bouncing me up and down on his cock.“That okay with you baby? Do you want me to fill up this tight little cunt?”

My confession comes out quick and shameless; “Yes! God there’s nothing I want more right now, I’ve wanted that for ages!”.

“Tell me, who do you belong to now snowflake?”

“YOU! I belong to you now Gray”

“Tell me you need me”

“I need you, I never want to be without you, so please just-“

“Tell me...” he pauses, placing a hand on my cheek and staring into my eyes.

“Tell me you love me”.

[bioodorange]

||How I See The Pastas||

© @frozensriracha, for some help with visuals!!

This was originally supposed to be how they looked but I decided to go for mental aspect and explain why as well PLEASE like, reblog and share your thoughts on this in the comments or inbox

Below the desciptions are images i’ve compiled and some art (if you know the creator please tell me so i can credit them) for a visual

dont forget to like reblog and share your thoughts with me, I spent a few days on this so i’d appreciate this

Jeff the Killer

So lets start with the obvious- jeffs pasty white toothpaste lookin skin

But realistically he wouldn’t be completely covered in scars

It would be blotchy, with pink fleshy patches among the burns

He most likely has contracture scars, third degree burns that turn the skin a pale white and tighten the skin

This explains his gaunt features and skin color

Now we have to take into account the vodka that was splashed on him, he’d probably have worse burns there with exposed flesh and damaged nerves

This would result in gnarly exposed skin, a damaged scalp and maybe damage to his teeth and eyes

Realistically, Jeff wouldnt have burned off his eyelids that alone would have resulted in blindness and death

Than his smile, his signatuure mark would probably be more of a gangly bloody scar mess

Pastas heal faster and aren’t really human, he’d have to recut his smile pretty frequently making it pretty jacket up because ltes be honest hes far from clean

ANd than his hait being chard black is very unlikely because as nasty as he is he s h o w e r s

not very frequnetly given his living situation and untreated burns but people can figure out how to wash hait and not much else

also i think its funny he’d shower with a plastic bag on his face to avoid getting soap in his nasty infected scars-

His hair would probably be dry and cut unevenly, more of a dark brown color with blonde undertones

Not to mention his burned scalp, hair probably wouldn’t grow there so he’d have a cool unintentional side shave

Jeff would also be a tall individual, he cant really eat, snacking on things from his victims homes giving him a more skeletal build

His personality and mindest is about as pretty as his face- but he most likely has a very screwed up headspace

Lacking in self care, maturity and sanity its fair to say he’d be a brash and violent person

Fun Fact: While researching this I learned that some versions of the joker had facial scars in the shape of a smile

Ticci Toby

So tobys age, unlike a lot of pastas, is pretty well agreed on, 19

So unlike when he was first a proxy toby most likely has stronger facial features and facial hair

Because shaving and hygiene isn’t first priority for pastas (gross-)

He stands around 5′7 and has grayish skin

Toby i feel is picky about foods, not only is it hard for him to eat its hard for him to keep food down

He’s malnourished explaining his thin figure and grayish skin

His hait is dark brown and a curlish mess, unkempt but short so it doesn’t get in his way

I’ve always seen him with a small gap in his teeth, because I can

And since toby can’t feel shit I wouldn’t be surprised if he tried to eat rocks simply because he fuckin could

So some chipped teeth that are a bit uneven

Along with his CIPA and not eating enough Toby would bruise easily and have lots of scars, from things like cutting his finger on accident or getting mauled by a racoon

I wouldn’t be surpised if some of his joints were a bit screwed up, because whenever theyd beak or fracture he wouldn’t notice, this would probably happen a lot causing them to not heal correctly

One of tobys habits is nailbiting but he cant te;; when too far is too far

His fingers may be abit odd looking, knobby and discolored nails because of how exetreme his habit is

Would most likely have bandages around his fingers frequently to prevent the habit

So theres a lot of debate about tobys cheek was it the CIPA or the car accident, I beileve the accident because his other cheek is completely fine, theres damage from the OUTSIDE to inside and considering his sister died in the accident its unlikely he survived unscathed

Fun Fact: only a small handful of people have ever been diagnosed with CIPA, less than 500 (documented) cases around the world

Bloody Painter

So Helen is often seen as quiet emo painter boy 

but uh no <3

Personaly i beileve he suffers from narcisistic personality disorder, exetreme importance and that he is always victorious and gets what he wants

This sporuts from the constant heavy invalidation from classmates, toxic friends and neglect from his parents

He doesn’t hang out with people because he doesn’’t lie them its because they never let him in the past and he beileves he’s better than them

But this also links to deep rooted insecurity and social anxiety/being inept completely

Him being nice is basically so you like him, he wants validation amd admiration not love

Unlike the other pastas he’d be a more clean well kept one a helthy figure and some tattoos bevause he can

I beileve he lives in socity, finding hus victims in girls and men alike who fall for his charm

he uses hhis skill and ordinary appearance to blend in on the streets

From his behavior helen most likely keeps his hair a bit shorter and clean

He always looks his best

Has chapped, and picked at lips because of his anxieties

Aswell as his breakdowns- his identity is completely in his head, he is very unsure of who he is and takes the delusions in his mind as reality

Unrelated but paino fingers-

And finally in order for his art to be as perfect and amazing as him, he has to be apart of it

Thus using his own blood in his pieces and the body parts of those he admires

Covers his scars with clean bandgaes

But his paintings turn brown and dry out, he’s always in need of a new medium

Is most likely anemic from all the blood he looses and has a paler skintone

Clockwork

ahh yes finally someone who knows what self care is-

helen, i love you buddy but you need to stop 

But anyway natalie has a stronger, athletic build

She often chases her victims and gets in altercations, relying on strength most  of the time

on that same note, this would defintelty cause many scars on natalie

Wether it was a bite mark or scars from a kitchen knife, shes got lots of scars

A few even on her face

Now, for the clock in her eye that thing is like holding her skull together at this point, realistically

She is probably delicate and cares for it becaise 1) it hurts 2) if it gets screwed up that could cause a lot of problems

natalie would be a smart person, I wouldn’t be surprused if she had a few other stray stitches or bandgaes wrapped around a fresh wound

For more visual-ish things uh m u l l e t (credit: @cum-looking-sock-mf in a chat like 4 months ago)

She has one, fight me on it

but also thick and curlish hair so I also riase you

Undershave

just y e s

I can also see her getting tattoos over certain scars on her arm, just to make them look not so ugly

I feel like clockwork wishes things worked out better

Wishes for another chance but knows she’ll never get one

Thus her taking goof care of herself

Natalie throws herseld into her “work”, keeping her body in shape and killing people

Its a way to avoid her life and that it is- a huge, sad mess

Shes an outgoing impulsive individual, confident but questions her actions

She’s also unstable- protective and loyal but explosive and strong 

Jane the Killer

Jane is the final one, im sorry I couldn’t do more theres a photo limit and I wanna bash my head into the wall

Now a main different between her and jeff is she had surgery and lie treatment

Janes skin is still greatly scarred but it is greatly healed

She takes care of it and had skin grafts

Her face is disfigured, a scarred smile and burns around

But unlike Jeff she doesn’t recarve the cut so its a cleaner line and a lot healthier

Janes hair took a rather long time to grow back, but it did! 

She has a slightly long pixie cut a bit choppy but she doesn’t mind

Her wife definetely cuts it for her and you can fight me over that

I can see Jane having a lot of facial trauma, scars around her nose and cheeks

She was young when she started killing and went for the over the person, pin them down kill which didn’t work out

She switched to a silenced pistol after awhile, you know like a smart person

Janes arms and legs are in alright condition where most of the burn trauma is on her back

She has a leaner but healthy figure but like boobs-

Like clockwork and Helen she takes care of herself

She doesn’t kill as frequently, going after a few of jeffs victims before him and is of course, actively hunting him down

Her eyes are a pale green and she wears makeip to fill in her eyebrows because those bitches take a long time to grow back

fun fact: jeff has no eyebrows, fight me

[cosmicallymundane]

REVENGE — fanfiction

word count — 670+

implied Daniel Grayson/Emily Thorne, pregnancy but only directly talked about in one sentence, lotsa flowery text im not sorry :,)

Emily, for all that she was, found herself gentle with this grief.

She folds it neatly into her arms, bundled against her bosom.

A strange, tired softness envelopes her bones, wetting her eyes with sticky sleep.

There it stays, a quiet thing really.

Sullen and droopy against her wiry and collapsed body.

Emily wonders if it had a name.

It pushes the porch swing, this grief, the groaning of wood and chain grates against her ears.

She did not know, and it sends a surge of nausea warbling in her stomach.

It's quiet. This feeling.

She's never known it silent.

Loud and volatile, double edged and searing — white hot and trembling at her finger tips.

Cutting winds of brine and sea, salt to split and bleeding skin.

Swollen fingers, purpled and pulsing, pulling and twisting little strings knotted and entangled in ways she cannot — will not untether.

Grief is wild and it hurts.

It's a withered section of her being, scarred over in the reds of injustice.

It hurt everywhere.

Mapped in this sorrow, dressed in this rage.

She finds hatred but familiarity in it at the very least.

Because Emily knows her grief.

It came to her years ago, when she thought its name was sadness, and it stayed without a bother to name its truth.

And this. Oh, this is not hers.

Too rounded, too soft. It is new, and old. Something grand, but terrible.

It liked to hide, to be small and unseen.

Craving something she had little to give.

It's not hers. No, not at all.

But she finds herself welcoming it all the same.

She met it by the bathroom door, when the walls sagged and the floors swirled. It led her by the hand, when she's pierced with vertigo and her knees felt like mush. Patience in its guidance as Emily paused and held no target in her wandering vision. Waves of sickness crashed against her and she remembers stumbling out the door.

She never stumbles — her steps always light and calculated.

Her trips precise and methodic.

But she did.

And it's okay, grief tells her.

For tonight, let her be undone.

She rests, a lonesome buoy stranded from its station in the dark sea.

She will not drown, she knows, but the act of nearly so, terrified her.

This grief, lets her rest.

It does not push, it does not scold.

A promise in its hold, that it'll carry her head above the choppy and unsure waters for however long she needs.

Her fists do not curl, she does not school her face. Not in the familiar and poised way of a delicate girl.

Her anger, a heavy rock always tucked into her pocket, feels a little lighter.

She shudders out a breath, her lips pinked and tacky.

June is always blue, nearly indigo — the sky always lighter than the sea.

The stretch of beach glittered in silver moonlight; echoes of glee and the childish shrieks of a long forgotten little girl, whose father and her stay out late to fish for stars, but a distant thought she tucks into the gaping chasm in her chest.

Tonight, the air is thick and humid.

Always carrying a little bit of sand in its invisible breeze.

It clings to the folds of her nightshirt, of which sticks to her sweat-slicked skin.

It chafes and she trembles in disgust.

Her mouth warbles, and bleary eyes flit from the sea and to her manor, the one he resides in. Because why not?

He never stayed long, here.

At one point in her life, perhaps minutes before she learned; these were her favorite types of nights.

The kind she perhaps envisions herself painting with her acrylics because oil took too long. And she can't wait. She never could.

This beauty is fleeting and never repeated.

And it's just for her.

Where it's her and her house, and her sea. And her paints.

Together. At peace.

June is peace and beauty.

Or it was.

She wishes it were August instead.

Wetness streaks her cheeks.

Because Emily Thorne is pregnant.

Amanda Clarke holds her a little tighter, in turn.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

[rouiyan]

𝘖𝘝𝘌𝘙𝘊𝘈𝘚𝘛 𝘚𝘒𝘐𝘌𝘚 𝘈𝘕𝘋 𝘛𝘏𝘖𝘚𝘌 𝘞𝘏𝘖 𝘋𝘐𝘌 [ 𝘭.𝘫𝘯 ]

⧏ the second volume of rouiyan’s debut series, till death do us part ⧐

synopsis: “i will keep you,” he says softly, as sweet as black tea, “and i will keep you warm.” (Catherynne M. Valente, Deathless)

✧ prince!lee jeno x crown princess!reader ✧ royalty au

✧ genres : fluff, angst ✧ word count : 5.0k ✧ disclaimers : brief descriptions of nudity (nothing sexual), allusions to sex (nothing explicit), malintent

read volume one here: of the heart.

when the moon, in all her glory, begins to set, Mother Nature begins each new day by inhaling the misfortunes of the day before and blowing out frigid breaths in their stead. this morning is no exception for nothing is so clear as the wisps of fog that lie just beyond the horizon, a velarium of sorts, over the forest canopy. the sun is a little early today, but it is for naught, since its rays are caught between the tendrils of fog right as they begin to show. perhaps Mother Nature woke up in a bit of a fit today, seeing as the skies are already oozing the grays before the blues have yet to surface. Her fingers gently stir the clouds to ensure that they collide right where the earth most needs it and She's joyful in the sense that Her work can be admired from far down below. after all, the paintings She conjures in the skies are nothing short of masterpieces.

like a ceiling folding in with the pressure of water leakage, the clouds from down below give off an air of distress. the air itself is heavily encumbered with a clarity found only after the rainiest of days. and if not for the sake of the story, the author could spend hours droning on about Mother Nature's tour de force, she really would, but instead she will insert a few lines from a symphony: 

The autumn mist drifts blue over the lake,

The blades of grass stand covered with frost,

The flowers' sweet scent is gone,

An icy wind bends down their stems,

My heart is weary.

Der Einsame im Herbst (The lonely one in autumn), from Mahler’s Das Lied von der Erde

in the exact opposite sense that Mother Nature loves her leaves, with tender fondness and a forgiving hand, prince jeno's father has never loved his second son more, with an impassioned sneer and a bagful of riches in mind. at least, that is exactly what prince jeno himself thinks as he skims through yet another letter, this time from his father. 

son,

never did i think i would enjoy the prospect of a winter ceremony as much as i would this, perhaps you would also like to see an early coronation. i've made the necessary arrangements, i assure that you will not be suspected in the least but keep caution and wariness by your side, our family name is already a great deal tainted. thought not for long, i'll be sending a carriage to retrieve you for your rounds back home, we've ought to get going on them. the damsel is a sight for sore eyes, i presume, i'd hate for her to foil our ambitions; she is much in your hands to attend to now. i'll see you by the throne soon, my lad. 

king of the southern mines, your father.

the prince's vision narrows upon the words 'coronation, arrangements, suspected, foil, throne,' and he is already a sight of frustration, fingers gripping the paper with such force that his short nails are digging into his palms through it. seething, he tears his eyes from the script before him but instead, they land on the previous letter sat atop the open escritoire. the one from his mother. the stamped edge of the paper lifts with the wind that filters through the window just above it and he has the sudden urge to let it be carried away wholly. jeno crosses the room in four steps. 

with both the pages collected in his hands, jeno crouches by the mantle, the roar of a fire licking up before him. his face is drawn in concentration, jaw stiff and clenched. the lines of his brows are met with a furrow in between, set above the meek lines of his eyelids. his pupils dilate, albeit out of habitual need, in the reflection of the inferno before him. he's ever-so-aware of the distinct scent of burning coals that siphon and sharpen his reminiscence of home. it's sentient, the feelings of familiarity that overcome his senses, halting his movements, his fingers clutching the papers in a way that almost tells of longing. longing of a seemingly different world entirely, one that he has only ever known until a few weeks prior. being washed anew in distant lands and over the course of a single lunation, jeno finds that he's never felt more mismatched from himself, disconnected from the people who raised him in contrast to the people who have brought out the better in him. but the embers are not the only thing he smells, not the only he sees, or heeds to.

the pearly carrara marble of the mantle tells stories in the grayed lines that trail across its posh surface. his eyes rove over the white, the faith and purity of your heraldry binded with the emblem of your family. the white of angels, of untainted relations, sterility in empowerment, the inviolable you. the white tells stories that the black never could.

so jeno finds a warm pleasure in the way the flames overwhelm the papers with eager enthusiasm, the damned words of his parents receding into mere ash. prince jeno thinks he could forever part with the world if it asked him to feast his eyes on this very sight until the end of time. 

despite arousing before the sun, you are disappointed when it starts to chase your wakefulness. there is something edging the growing unease in your mind, as if time is trickling down the drain of the past, too fast and too unforgiving. as if time is berating at your senses, telling you there is much more than what meets the eye but for the life of you, you cannot pinpoint what. for now though, you tend to the pressing matters at hand, jeno has been called home for his rounds, rather abruptly.

"perhaps i should go with you, rounds don't always have to be made by one per-”

jeno cuts you off effectively, "they are very much a one person duty," he assures pointedly. your nose scrunches, the light inconveniences starting to rub off on your exasperation. in a tired voice you mumble, "we could always change it up a bit, i'm sure." jeno chuckles heartily at that, his hand coming up from his side to rub out the lines of stress in your forehead.

"little miss princess, you're saying that as if you do not have rounds to complete of your own. i'm almost certain you host are a far greater amount of people that wish to be invited to the ceremony than i have-"

it's your turn to cut him off now, "why don't you stay with me then?" in attempts to enhance the force of your resolve, you uncover a hand of your own from under the sheets to comb through his locks. the way his eyes instantly close to relish in your touch paired with the little purr he gives is almost telltale of your victory. almost.

jeno pauses, his eyes flicker back open, and a soft knowing smile runs along the features of his face as he shakes his head, in knowledge of your artful tactics to wear him down. "and neglect my kingdom and their desires?"

you've left the feelings of frustration behind, instead deciding to fool around with the boy, to see what you can get out of him for good fun, "but we've yet to decide what flowers to use as centerpieces. and whether we're throwing a private or public ball. wedding preparations are surely more important than handing out personal invites…we can cut corners one some niceties." jeno knows better than to let his guard down. the jeno around y/n isn't to be trusted as easily. he settles for words of comfort instead, "i'll write."

"well, that's of course. silly of you to voice something as unequivocal as that."

a pause and his resolve is slipping, "maybe a few short visits back wouldn't hurt." you lick your lips in good-natured fun, another pause, "i'm sure my father wouldn't half mind if we cut it a week short." your eyes look hazy to him, though in reality they are simply amused, and drawing words from him he isn't even sure he's saying. "or- or maybe i could convince him, or try to at least…," he trails on and on.

your satisfied a certain amount and, suppressing a smile from giving away your plotted schemes, you mutter quietly, mostly for your own pondering, "i'm thinking alliums would make a statement, blue alliums." jeno gives a noise of confusion, unsure of how you've suddenly come to talk of flowers. "the centerpieces, i mean." jeno's silence only urges you on, "alliums, or blue alliums at that, are symbols of unity and good fortune. i think that'd make a nice combination with a base of milkweed, dignity and freedom, if my memory serves me right."

the prince has found his voice, "what of the rounds?" but he's met with a small chortle, "nothing, a month is a month, i'm sure we'll work around it."

"but, i- i'm not sure i understand. you were adamant enough a millisecond ago, and now-"

"and now i'm telling you i was toying with you, dear sir. such fun it is when you let on more than you'd like."

jeno's cheeks flush, the warm color dusting the bridge of his nose, apples of his cheeks, tips of his ears. your warm smile and benign banter bring him the simplest of joys. he's not sure he's ever felt this way before. familiarity. and, not the familiarity that comes from his assigned butler since birth, or the old lady at the apothecary he's been to all his life that's paid to tend to his wounds. not the familiarity that comes with blood and playing house, the type of sickened familiarity he feels with his brother, doyoung, that every second spent with him is forced. the familiarity he feels with you is by choice, by genuine and sincere desire. you want to wake up in the mornings with him by your side. you want to spend breakfast pushing each other's toes away underneath the table. you want to hold his hand when he walks you to your carriage. you want to make love with him in the most ungodly hours of the day. which is exactly what happens that morning.

a day is barely enough to do all the things you've penned in your journal. things to be done before you were to be married, with the one you were to be married to. the list had been written, curated, and refined by nine-year-old you, who you must say, had some very good ideas, though verily a romanticist. 

jeno is departing tomorrow morning, as early as the sun will permit, and suddenly you wish that it would never rise again. whatever the case, you set out first thing this morning, hand tugging along a very tired prince, for the bathing pool. nine-year-old you must have misinterpreted the meaning of 'skinny dipping' for swimming but you thank nine-year-old you because things seem to have worked out in your favor either way. jeno is jolted awake by the gelid water, the seasons now mark three-quarters into fall. 

"go in first," you state simply, hands on your hips and eyes drawn down into the water. the single toe you had dipped in to test the waters is frigid and frozen. jeno, who has yet to finish undressing himself, nodded at your words. if he were looking in your direction he would've noticed the smirk on your face. he stands straight, boxers on the ground behind him as he takes place by your side, "cold?"

"not at all, surprisingly," he's looking at you now and your countenance can't help but decompose in front of him, a small, unsuspecting smile adorning your lips. "oh really, can you attest for that?"

the smile is now blossoming unto your cheeks, "are you telling me to go in first?" the prince nods at that, fully aware of your schematics, "yes, i would like to see you enter the warm water."

"you agreed to go in first just a few seconds ago, don't tell me you've backed out on your word," a feeble matter against the boy but he defends himself by saying, "devious little princess, as if this wasn't your idea."

you're equally defensive when you point out, "not me, directly, but rather me as a child-" he pushes you in. lee jeno, second prince of the esteemed southern kingdom pushes you into the subzero degree bathing pool.

assuredly though, he dives in a few seconds after he's had time to relish in your shocked expression and piercing screams. he's coming up for air, his hands have found your bare hips to make sure that you resurface together. or drown together, you think, because it seems his foot is caught in the crevices between two rocks and since he's writhing like a madman, you're writhing with him too. it's a strange sight, two very beautiful individuals, absolutely in love but absolutely inane, for if jeno had thought to let go of his grip on you, you might've been able to unlodge his foot altogether if he had not been set on wrangling both your bodies about.

it's four minutes later that the two of you are on the leveled bronze rock, now, absolutely loosing it over jeno's lack of common sense. both of you are having trouble breathing, spurts of water still occasionally gushing past his lips. he thinks you're most beautiful in your bare skin, with nothing to define you but yourself. he's running his fingers up and down your torso, lips connecting with the surface of your neck. he appreciates that you kiss him with such avidity, you always do. jeno loves that you make it known to him, that what you say, you mean. and that even if you were never to utter a word again, he would still understand the sheer vehemence with which you love him.

you cross off paragliding, building a snowman, and studying together for a test. not because they've been completed but because there simply is no plausible way to get them done with the deadline closing in fast. the next activity you present to jeno has his eyebrows raised in intrigue. he's quick to reply when you ask him. 

"a moon, a quartered moon." the knowing smile that grows on your face tells him he's chosen correctly.

jeno gives a squeeze to your hand as the needle comes in contact with your clean skin. the first few minutes are highlighted by the sensation of a million bee stings, racking through your brain, but the rest is relatively smooth sailing. yours comes out just as good as jeno's, a small moon, a quartered moon, tattooed into the skin just behind the left ear. there specifically, so that it's known by each other and each other only. 

there will be months passed before the moon becomes a sort of unspoken but affirmative communication instrument. when jeno loves you a little too much, he rubs the inked skin softly. his sleepless nights are cured with the pad of your finger upon the spot. between the many general meetings you're required to oversee in a day, jeno waits outside the conference room for you to exit, his fingers stroking the moon for the duration of the few seconds allotted to him before you're whisked away again. the symbol of night is translated into accounts of bonding, the smallest of things giving way to happiness. 

you would say the uses of the 'lovemark' are amplified as the sun retreats and the mascot of your relationship shines brighter than ever. it's evident in the look on jeno's face, especially, a few feet below you, peering up your skirt with a dumbstruck look on his face. 

"jeno, dear, now is really not the time." the boy clears his throat and looks away, baffled at how you'd caught him anyways. your position is so frightfully awkward, one foot on the top end of your chamber's windowsill, another bent and hoisted onto the flat ledge of your roof. "come on up now, and get those dirty thoughts out of your mind. for heaven's sake, we're here to watch the sunset and stargaze, not to pound into each other."

the prince laughs at your offhanded remarks, arriving himself on the platform. the view is expansive in the way that you can see the forest from here, the ocean if you squint, the hills set in the far distance, and the sky has never felt closer to the earth while the things you've always known to be near appear smaller and more distant than ever. even the gregarious tree stalks of the forest rise to what could be measured as an only inch from this outlook. 

"nine-year-old y/n seems to have known nothing but fun days." jeno muses, leaning his weight back upon his hands. your eyes are glazed in an omniscient mist, "i'd expect so, she was born and raised with everything." the prince picks up on the tone of distaste with which you'd spoken your words. he turns to you and studies the hairs that fall in your eyes, "hardly fair."

you reply not a beat after, "not at all fair. if i were to accomplish one thing during my run as queen, i'd give the children opportunities of a lifetime." the thoughts tumble out of your mind, as if you'd known of this conviction of yours since you were but a child. your drive as a ruler, firm and headstrong to implement your values and beliefs on your subjects has been the sole idea that's grounded you in the castle for your entire time being.

"and what if you cannot?"

your first reply is dealt with in humble humor, "at the very least, i'd like it to be engraved on my tombstone that i tried." the second, is laden with a sorrowful undertone, "housing, schooling, meals and warmth in the winter. we have it the worst here up north. if they are without school, they are left with nothing." jeno's head turns to yours, he sees the slip of a tear and he wipes it away, only to be met with another. your voice cracks in despair, "there are no mining jobs to take up, no farms to harvest, aqueducts to run. i dread that one day i must rule a kingdom of arts."

jeno tries, he really does, to gather you in his arms but your sobs rack your body with such force that he is left to comfort your desolations with words and a hand on your back, "what is there to dread? are the arts so difficult to maintain?"

bitterness forms at the tip of your tongue, "no, jeno. i regress in the face that art is invaluable. but the world seeks to attach a price to every viable thing, to label the passion of others. and now, now the arts are for the rich, only for the rich. have you ever heard of a hungry man paint instead of seeking shelter from the rain? a woman who writes prose instead of feeding her dying children? there is no one who can live solely on art but the heavens have sent me to rule a horde of those very people."

the prince knows you need to voice the thoughts weighing down your mind, so he gives them a platform, a nudge, "a kingdom of arts would be blessed to house a queen with intentions such as yourself, surely there are others who hold the same principles as you." 

"no doubt," your eyes cast on the forming stars, "but as much as i would love to trail a path of meliorism and say that with a tide of willingness, there will be change, i must not forget the real nature of the world we live in."

"and what is this nature that you speak of?"

"the drive of greed and sadism, in exchange for the feeblest of pleasures."

the world comes to a still in this very moment. the moon begins her ascent. the stars unsheath their full luminance. the whites of their gleam reflecting on the rooftop on which the two of you are sat. time and space shrivel in the potency of untainted humanity.

"we will bring change, you and i."

you feel your heart calm as your rambling ceases. jeno looks over at you and smiles.

prince jeno is scheduled to return in twenty seven days time. there is something that feels wrong about him leaving. a feeling that if he leaves, all hell with turn loose and you will be unleashed unto the dogs for ravaging. there is a coated and unspoken thought that splutters in your mind whenever you even dare so much as to begin to think of it. the possibility that with jeno's leave, you'll be left with the realization that it was all a phase of infatuation. that when you see him again, all the feelings that you'd built up over the course of a month and a few days was just a glamourized dream. that he was never real; the real that you needed.

"i'll be forever thinking of those lips on mine, maybe even missing them," you let, comically. jeno eyes you conspicuously, "and i'll be forever thinking of you, as a whole, not just the lips unlike you. a little fixated you sounded there, mind you." his little sniggers are given in response to your hands pushing his chest in frisky response. the prince pulls you closer into a final embrace, the coachman of his black carriage is awaiting his departure. 

he parts from you and you can't help but trail behind him down the paved path. he's over his shoulder now as you let loose a sliver of your deepest worries, meekly, "i hope we never change, jeno."

the prince halts at the bottom steps that curl into the palace. he sees you, feels you, knows you, for he quotes, “i will keep you,” he says softly, as sweet as black tea, “and i will keep you warm.” (Catherynne M. Valente, Deathless)

jeno can hear the light pellets of raindrops hit the roof of his carriage. the gray skies are darkening by the second, it's telling him something that he's sure he doesn't want to hear. his fingers fiddle with the cuffs of his tailored suit jacket, something you'd requested be made for him when his stay was first prolonged. the prince is entirely clad in white and he knows enough to imagine the face his mother will make when she first sees him home. lee jeno doesn't remember a time when he's donned a color other than black, but somehow, the white doesn't feel too far from home. 

with the white, his mind flashes with the events of the past month or so spent in your noble abode. you, on the other hand, rarely ever wore a color other than white, the most differing shade being a cream or beige. but even with all the lights, you never seemed to mind when they were dirtied. almost always, a day in the fields or by the bathing pool would drench a good six inches of your skirts in mud and the unfurled hems of your frocks or crinkled fronts of those sweaters you so often adorned were always beyond your notice. you were free in that way, never stopping to fuss over the little things you deemed unimportant. jeno thinks if he could live that way too and though he isn't sure if he can, he knows he wants to.

jeno can hear the spindles of the carriage gyrating with added resistance against the now watered-down mud of the trodden roads. his eyes are caught in the sky that looks as if it's to detonate at any given second. he predicts the thunder before it rings loud in his ears and he hears the coachman slash a whip to a trepid horse, an echo of the natural phenomenon. he wonders what it would feel like to be the coachman, out in the clamorring downpour, or perhaps the horse, blindlessly running to the crack of a whip, or the trees even, awoken by the threat of a fire. he wonders if he has any desire to be the lightning itself, to jab at the delicate foliage as he'd like, to set fire to that of which he doesn't like, to wield destructive power. he wonders, but he knows he doesn't want to.

lee jeno is in his carriage when he realizes what it means to be free, but not in the hindrance of others. he realizes what it means, not to rule but rather to guide without the oppression of others. lee jeno is also in his carriage when the skies turn black and a deluge of rain is unleashed upon the castle of white. 

a man a few inches brief to the prince, but of higher rank in swordsmanship, is propped on the limestone trellis that holds the awning in place, his two feet hooked between the vertical balusters of stone and fingers clung onto the ridge of the balustrade. he finds it ludicrous that every individual of importance he has ever met, is so caught up in their own belief that they are untouchable, where in reality they are the most vulnerable of all. he thinks this, specifically, as he upturns himself over the railing and onto the landing, only to see that the king's door are left wide open, the only shield of protection being the pristine white curtains glinting a sheen of blue in the moonlight. 

renjun is humored when, upon drawing the curtains back, the king himself is simply laying there on the ground, unconscious as he was informed he'd be. the knight presses two fingers to the inner wrist of the withered man and finds that he still has a job to finish. brandishing a blade from the underside of his calf, he deems the inscription on the handle fit for the deed. he drives it into the gut but makes quick work of it, the sputters of blood that erupt from the now-awakened royal something he wishes the guards just outside not to hear. renjun makes further assurance that the blade is firmly put in place, the stout palladium shaft protruding from the king's abdomen like the ring of a windup toy. 

a black body bag is used to sheath the quickly-paling bag of bones. it is left under the light of the moon, through a skylight rounded in the dead center of the palace. around the malefaction, stairs wind in all directions from the ground up and if there were even one maid to have crossed the landing once in the night, she would have been met with what looked to be an unassuming trash bag. but fate had it so the sun would rise before your dead father was stumbled upon, an inscribed shank planted between his internal organs reading, this star-like solitude (Giuseppe Ungaretti, from Last Choruses for the Promised Land: XVI (tr. by Patrick Creagh)).

the blood that seeps from the measly opening in the bag is not silver, nor is it gold. it is blood red. the red of a brazen senex that perhaps preceded and proceeded his times, entangled in the intricacies of the new age, the new game of politics he simply had no means to play at. akin to the webs of an arachnid, the string of fate hung around his neck, thin and unnoticeable, cinching with each passing second until Mother Nature deemed his time up. the blood that seeps writhes in the rays of the sun, twines like the veins in the marble beneath it. it seeps until the figure in the sack is drained and the clumping skin of human remains is the same shade as the white tiling. red against white, white against black, the black of a crying sky.

read volume three: dearly departed.

copyright © 2020 rouiyan all rights reserved.

✧ end note — i had such a hard time trying to pull this outta my ass in a way that captures everything i wanted to say. so thank you for reading this piece. it’s one of my most favorite things i have ever written, undoubtedly.

[dalamjisung]

messing with my head ❀ im jaebeom

word count: 6515

genre: hospital!au, fluff

pairing: neurosurgeon!jaebeom x baker!reader

description: he always care for everyone, but no once cares for him. until you show up. 

It’s a condition in which there is an over-accumulation of fluid in the brain… surgery for a shunt… potential brain damage… some complications can occur… if not, he’ll live a normal, happy life… timely surgery… fatal. 

                                                                ————————

The day your little brother was born was the happiest day of your life. Eight years ago, little Taehyung gave you a sense of purpose. You were now a big sister– you had someone to love and protect. You had someone to teach, and someone to learn from. As a daughter, you might not have been the best; you rebelled and partied for a while; insisted on bad decision; hung out with the wrong people. But that all changed once you turned 16, and Taehyung turned one. You still remember the moment that the change happened. It was his birthday, and he looked as tiny as ever in his little overalls and fuzzy socks. Just as you were about to blow out the candles for him, he giggles and points his chubby finger at you.

“Y/N!” He screeches, laughter following. “Y/N! Y/N!”

Your mother looks at you, eyes wide and tearful. “That’s right, Taehyung-ie, that’s your noona, Y/N.”

“Y/N!” He screams again and wiggles out of your father’s grasp, crawling to you. 

You pick him up, hugging your little brother close. Tears fall on his head and you let out a gurgled laugh, allowing your parents to hug their children. After that day– the day that Taehyung’s first word was you,– you promised to be better. For your parents, for Taehyung, for yourself. It was time for improvement. You started looking for part-time jobs, stopped hanging out with those bad people, and only attended parties every once in a while. You were lucky your grades never slipped, so you kept up with your studies easily. 

One day, after school, you were walking back home with a friend when you passed by a small, white bakery. No name, no advertisement, nothing but a small we sell delicious baked goods! on the window.

“You go ahead,” You tell your friend as you walk to the bakery. “I’m gonna check this out.”

“I’ll go with you,” Hyejin says, smiling. “Moral support and all.”

Out of all your friends, Hyejin is the only one you knew to be real– she was unforgivingly herself, and you admired that a lot. She’s always been by your side, supporting you and calling you out on your shit. Her friendship is one you’ll never give up on. 

You two walk in, arm in arm, and initially you see no one, but then you hear a pained grunting from behind the counter and you lean over, looking at an elderly woman trying to carry a box that was visibly too have for her. 

“Let me help you, ma’am,” You smile, walking around the counter and easily picking the box up. “Where shall I put this?”

“Ah, thank you so much,” She says smiling, and once you notice how her eyes almost disappear under such bright and wide smile, you feel something inside of you telling that you belong in that place. “I’m getting too old for this…”

“Not at all,” You joke. “I just eat a lot, so I’m freakishly strong.”

She laughs at that and you already feel oddly fond of that woman. 

“You remind me a lot of my grandson, young lady,” She says and start moving around, grabbing things; first a plate, then a cup. “Sit over there, sweetie, I’ll get you and your friend something to eat.”

“Oh, you don’t have to,” Hyejin says, smiling kindly. 

“Please, let me do at least that,” She says, and you two sit down, keeping an eye in case she needed any more help. She brings you two pieces of cake and iced tea, and you are sure you saw stars when you took the first bite, humming in appreciation. “Ah, I’m going to miss this– the look on your faces just made my day…”

“Are you leaving, ma’am?” You ask frowning in disappointment. You had just found out about this place…

“Unfortunately, I might have to close the bakery,” She sighs, looking down at her feet. “I’ve been running this place for almost forty years, with some help here and there, but now I’m old, and I can’t do the things as fast and efficiently as I used to.”

“Have you been working here by yourself, ma’am?” Hyejin frowns.

“My grandson used to help me when he was in high school,” She smiles proudly. “I had to practically kick him out of here so that he’d go to college… but ever since, it’s been just me.” “Let me work here.”

The request comes out fast and strong and you think that’s what makes the owner consider, looking you up and down.

“And why would a young, beautiful girl like you want to work with an old woman like me?” She laughs, dusting her hands in her dress. “You should be enjoying your youth, little girl.”

“Done that already,” You smile, following after her with your used plates and cups. “I want to help my parents. I want to be a good daughter. And I want to be happy while doing so. Let me work here… please.”

“What makes you think you’ll be happy here? Look around you, sweetheart; this place is run down. Customers barely come, anymore, and all I have left are my recipes and good memories. I can’t pay you much, and it’s a very time consuming job, I don’t thi–”

“I don’t care about the pay,” You smile, leaning over the counter. “Ma’am, this place is incredible. My mother’s been backing ever since I was born, so I know a thing or two. I see how happy she is when she’s baking and I see how happy you look in here… I’m sorry if I sound crazy, but please. Let me work here. I can come everyday after school, and even before if you need help prepping ingredients and–”

She raises her hand, silencing you in the process. She has a stern face, observing you. Your smile falters.

“I’m sorry,” You mumble, suddenly embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to press you or disrespect you.”

“Crazy,” She says, squinting. “Might just be what I need… can you start tomorrow?”

And that’s how it all begun. 

                                                               ————————

Seven years after that, you now manage Sweet Dreams alongside Ms. Im. At first, your parents were a little unsure about you working at the bakery, afraid that you’d not handle the weight of school and work very well, but you proved them wrong with each day that passed, improving not only your grades, but also helping out at the house. They refuse to let you help with expanses and told you to put all your paychecks in a saving account, so that you could go to college comfortably. You are now 23 and although you have plans for college one day, you just can’t seem to leave Ms. Im and the bakery behind. The amount of work you put into the place made it your home; you named it, painted it, fixed some of it. Ms. Im has been your mentor ever since you were sixteen and leaving her behind would be like leaving family– and you’d never leave your family. 

Especially not right now.

“How’s the little guy?” Ms. Im asks as you arrive, the sky outside still dark. You had to start prepping the ingredients and baked goods early in the morning, waking up before the sun and observing as it rises along with your cakes. 

“Sleeping a lot still,” You mumble, sounding as worried as you feel. “He complains about headaches all the time and he’s always sick… I’m really worried about him.”

“Are your parents working today?” Ms. Im asks just as you are about to put your apron on. 

“Yeah,” You sigh, suddenly getting a headache yourself. “He’s with grandpa right now, and we think that Advil has been helping, but we can’t keep pushing it much further… it’s been four days already.”

“Take that apron off,” Ms. Im demands and you do it without questioning. “We’re not opening the shop today.”

“What?” You shriek. “But Friday is one of our busiest days!”

“And one of the mellow days at the hospital,” She winks. “Let’s go, I’m driving you.”

“Ms. Im,” You follow her outside, shivering as you haven’t had the time to even put your jacket on. “I can take Taehyung myself, you don’t have to bother, really!”

“You walked into my shop seven years ago begging for a job,” Ms. Im says as she starts driving to your house. “Not only I gained a reliable worker, but I gained a daughter. Now stop complaining; Taehyung can’t see his sister freaking out like that.”

“Thank you,” You smile, wiping a few stray tears away. “Thank you so much.”

“No problem, dear,” She chuckles. “I promise it will be quick– if I’m not wrong, he’s still at the hospital doing an early shift.”

“Who?” You ask.

“My grandson.”

In seven years of working for Ms. Im, you are pretty sure you’ve heard about her grandson at least twice a day. She is incredibly proud of him; he went from a trouble maker to a very successful doctor, it’s all you remember. You are not sure what he does exactly, but you always noticed the tinge of sadness in her voice when she talked about him. In seven year, you heard about him everyday; but in seven years, you’ve never seen him at the shop. 

“Go get the kid,” Ms. Im says pulling up to your house. “I’ll wait here.”

You manage to not wake up you grandfather in the process, but you make sure to leave a note in the fridge telling him that you’re taking your brother to the hospital. 

“Where are we going?” Taehyung asks, groaning as you pick him up from his bed.

“Where going to the hospital, baby,” You say soothingly. “Remember how I went to see a nice doctor when I was in pain and then I felt good? I’m going to take you to see a nice doctor, too.”

“Okay,” Taehyung says and lays his head on your shoulder, drifting back to sleep. 

You text your parents from the car and you promise to keep them updated in case they have to go to the hospital too. Ms. Im parks the car and guides you through the maze that is the hospital, walking as if she owned the place. Some doctors stopped to say hello but she’d keep walking, marching with a purpose, almost. 

“Ms. Im,” You plead, looking around nervously. “We have to get in line, or maybe talk to a nurse, I don’t think we–“

“Ya!” She shouts, waving her small arms above her head and getting everyone’s attention. “Yugyeom!”

If you could hide, you would; but at the same time, you’d never been more thankful towards her, who’s done so much for you as it is. A tall doctor looks around, looking for the source of the ruckus, and he smiles widely when he sees her, jogging his way over. 

“Halmoni!” He shouts and hugs her tightly.

So this is him?, you think to yourself, holding Taehyung tightly against yourself. Is this the famous grandson?

“Y/N,” Ms. Im calls. “This is Yugyeom. Or Dr. Kim, as he is known around here. He is one of the best pediatricians in the city, so I am sure he can help. He’s friends with my boy.”

“Hello, it’s nice to meet you,” He smiles gently. “Who’s that little guy?”

“Oh!” As if you have just awaken from a trance, you bow to him as best as you can while holding your brother. “It’s nice to meet you too; I’m sorry for the sudden visit, Doctor, but–“

“Will the nice doctor help me?” Taehyung asks, looking at the tall man. 

“Yes, I will,” Yugyeom smiles. “What’s your name?”

“Taehyung,” He yawns, and then raises both his hands, putting down both his thumbs. “And I’m eight.”

“Ah, you’re a big guy already,” Dr. Kim says. “Follow me, please. We can talk better in my office.”

While Taehyung played with an alien stuffed doll, you explained the situation to Dr. Kim Yugyeom; your brother has been sleeping a lot these days, and complaining of headaches and dizziness. He’s been sick and crying and you are desperate. 

“Ah,” Dr. Kim’s face changes and he looks almost in pain. His brows are furrowed and he looks at Taehyung with worry. “Would you mind if I called a colleague here? I want a second opinion on something and he might have a better understanding of it than me…”

“Oh, yes, of course,” You mumble, hands fidgeting. 

Ms. Im stands by your side, and she puts a hand on top of yours, silently promising support. She’s been there for your first heartbreak; she’s been by your side through arguments, and fights, and birthdays, and celebrations. The fact that she is with you in that moment made things less hard; it made you believe that everything would be okay. 

“Excuse me,” Someone calls from the door. “Hello, I’m Dr. I–“

“Ya, Im Jaebeom, you ungrateful child!” Ms. Im shouts and you jump from your seat a little, surprised with the outburst. “Do I have to come all the way over here and bother your friends to finally see you?”

Ah, you think, holding a chuckle back. This is him. 

The man blinks, lost and confused, before smiling wide. That was the confirmation you needed– the way his eyes disappear under his wide smile was exactly the same as Ms. Im.

“Grandma!” He hugs her tight. “I’m sorry, halmoni, things have been crazy here in the hospital…”

“You could’ve called,” She pouts and hugs him back. “But we’ll talk about that another time. Dr. Kim called you here for another reason.”

“Is everything okay?” He asks, looking at his grandmother. “Are you eating properly? Do you have any joint pain? Backache?”

“I’m strong as a bull, child,” She laughs. “It’s Y/N that needs your help.”

You respectfully bow to him. “Nice to meet you, Dr. Im. I’m Y/N, and this is Taehyung.”

He looks at you and bows back. Dr. Im Jaebeom looks a little taken aback and you move uncomfortably under his gaze, bringing your brother closer. 

“So you are the crazy girl that my grandmother talks so much about,” He says, and there is a certain something in his voice that you just can’t seem to grasp– an edge that made you shiver. “What can I help you with?”

“It’s the boy,” Dr. Kim says in a soft voice. “He’s only eight and he’s been experiencing strong headaches. He sleeps a lot and is always dizzy and sick… all symptoms seem to add to hydrocephalus, but I wanted to consult with you before diagnosing him. Can you take a look?”

“Of course,” Dr. Im moves quickly and efficiently, crouching in front of Taehyung. “Hi there, buddy– would you mind if I touched your head really quick?”

The consultation goes by quick and you don’t understand any of it; they talk in medical terms and when they finally take the time to talk to you, your brother is already being admitted to the hospital. You numbly sign all the necessary paperwork and when you come back to your senses, you are standing outside of Taehyung’s room, and Dr. Im is moving his lips, but you can’t hear a thing.

“I’m sorry,” You sigh, frustrated. “Can you repeat that? I don’t know what happened, I just– I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

He frowns and you feel like hiding again. His gaze is burning on your skin and can only wonder how dumb he must think you are.

“Sure,” He clears hi throat. “Taehyung-ie has a condition called hydrocephalus, in which the over-accumulation of cerebrospinal fluid inside the skull causes pressure on the brain. This is why he is having headaches and dizziness. When did this start?”

“Around four days ago,” You choke on your words. “Is it dangerous? Can you treat him?”

“All conditions have potential to be dangerous, but you did good in bringing him here as early as you could,” Dr. Im says, nodding to himself. “Unfortunately, this is not something that just goes away with time, nor something that can be medicated. The only solution is surgery.”

“Surgery?” You whimper, letting your shoulders fall in defeat. “What is the success rates of this surgery, Doctor?”

“The shunt surgery has a higher success rate for children,” He explain carefully. “But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t have risks. Because we will insert a shunt inside of him to help with the circulation of the fluid accumulated in his head, things like shunt failure or infection can happen, but that’s why we’ll keep him in the hospital for an observation period.”

You nod, processing everything he’s telling you. 

“Alright,” You whisper. “Okay. What are the next steps?”

“You’ll have to go to the Financial office to talk about the expenses,” As he talked, you could only fixate your eyes on the embroidery of his coat. Im Jaebeom. “We’ll schedule the surgery for tomorrow. The sooner we do this, the better. We only need his mother to sign the consent form.”

He extends some papers and a pen towards you and you look back at him, suddenly at a loss of words. 

“I… uh, I-I’m not his mother,” You smile tightly. “I’m him older sister.”

“Oh, I apologize, I assumed that–“

“Haven’t I raised you right, Im Jaebeom?” Ms. Im asks, coming with two cups of coffee in hand, and you frown alongside her grandson. “Never assume… tsk, for a doctor he is really stupid, isn’t he, Y/N?”

You chuckle. “You must think we’re all idiots here if you intend on drinking that coffee, Ms. Im. You know it’s not good for you!”

She laughs. “This is for you two,” She gives one to Jaebeom and the other to you. “To keep up the energy.”

“When my parents arrive I’ll ask my mother to sign the papers,” You turn to the doctor, still too intimidated to look him in the eyes. “They should be here soon, so you can schedule the surgery for tomorrow.”

You don’t even see him leaving, allowing your body to fall on a waiting chair. You are not sure if you fell asleep or simply gave up, but when you open your eyes again, you are on the couch inside your brother’s room.

                                                               ————————

Taehyung was prepped for surgery and you couldn’t even look. You held his tiny hand, but your eyes were fixated on Dr. Im Jaebeom’s. He looked at you as intensely as you looked at him, and although you had a weird feeling that this man hated you, his piercing eyes on yours were the only thing holding you together. You couldn’t cry in front of Taehyung, and you couldn’t cry in front of Dr. Im. Simple as that. 

“We’ll take him now,” One of the nurses tell you and you nod, walking behind them and behind Ms. Im and her grandson. You feel alone at that moment, with your parents supporting each other, with the Im’s chatting together, and with your little man going into surgery. He’s the one that walks with you, and you feel as if you failed him. 

Dr. Im turns around and looks at you. “The surgery will last from about an hour to two hours. If it takes a bit longer, don’t worry, it just means that we’re doing our best to make everything right. I prefer to take my time and have a successful surgery than to rush things. A nurse will keep you updated so that you are aware of everything that’s happening in there.”

“Take care of him,” You say, voice strong, surprising everyone. “Or I will kill you.”

And for the first time, you’ve seen Im Jaebeom smile at you. You mother slaps your shoulder, but you ignore the sting, maintaining eye contact.

“We’ll do our best,” He says chuckling. “That is all I can promise you.”

“That’s all I need,” You say and nod at him. “Thank you, Doctor.”

You are not sure what happens in between, but Dr. Im comes out through the doors and in your head only thirty minutes passed; instantly you are washed with dread. You try to stand up but your legs give out and you’d be on the floor if not for his reflexes.

“My brother,” You breath out, frantically looking into his eyes as he tries to talk to you. “Taehyung-ie– is he okay? That was too fast, it was too quick– what happened? Dr. Im–“

“The surgery took two hours and he’s perfectly fine,” Dr. Im says, frowning deeply. Is he always frowning?, you wonder as he drags you to the nearest chair. “Taehyung is doing fine; he’s still asleep because of the anesthesia, but he’s under observation and he’s safe.”

“Thank you,” You whisper, starting to cry. You slouch your shoulders forward and burry your face on your hands. “Thank you so much, oh my god, thank you Dr. Im.”

“Y/N,” He calls, pulling your face up. He looks at your eyes, puts a hand on your forehead, and frowns even more. “Are you feeling okay? You look like you’ve been in and out of reality for the past two days… you feel warm.”

“I’m good,” You smile. “Just haven’t eaten in a while. I’ll do it as soon as I see my brother.”

“No, stay here for a second,” He says and leaves with long strides.

He’s okay, you think to yourself, trying to stop the tears. Taehyung is okay. Pull yourself together, Y/N.

“Drink this,” Dr. Im puts a cup on your hand and gives you an energy bar. “And eat this.”

“What about you?” 

His eyes widened. “I-I’ll eat something later…”

Is he embarrassed?

“You have to eat, too, Doctor, you look worn out,” You smile. “You care about everyone, but yourself, huh?”

“Yah,” He laughs, and you chuckle with him, suddenly feeling your energy coming back although you didn’t eat yet. “You sound just like my grandmother.”

“Well, she did mentor me for seven years,” You shrug your shoulders, with a fond look on your face. “Your grandmother means a lot to me…”

“The fact that you took care of her all these years means a lot to me,” He admits, looking slightly guilty. “After I left to go to medical school, I couldn’t come back and check on her as often as I wanted. Then one day she called me, and she told me about this crazy, beautiful girl, who begged her for a job in her run down bakery and… well, I worried for a while, because she did say the girl was crazy, but then she tells me how good this girl is, how kind, and I know I can stop worrying all the time. I know she’s not alone… I might have been jealous, sometimes, I’ll admit, but thank you, Y/N. For everything you’ve done for my halmoni.”

You are at a loss of words. For someone who looks so cold and collected to sound so emotional and true was a shock. 

“I am the one that should be thanking you,” You chuckle incredulously. “You saved my brother’s live.”

“But that’s my job,” He smiles, looking to the floor and then looking back at you. It is almost as if all the air in your lungs disappeared, and you suddenly don’t know how to breath. “Taking care of my grandmother is not your job.”

Before you can say something his phone beeps and he gets up.

“Taehyung is awake,” He smiles and did he always have those moles under his eyebrow? “Let’s go.”

You let him guide you through the halls and you wonder if anyone cares for this doctor that cares for everyone else but him. 

                                                               ————————

“You should go home,” Dr. Im says. It’s been two days since the surgery and you were the only one that hasn’t left the hospital yet. One of the nurses was kind enough to let you shower in their bathroom, but had to admit, just showering wasn’t doing much. You’ve been wearing the same clothes and even your parents went home to sleep, but you refused to leave once they got back to the hospital. 

“I don’t want to leave without him,” You mumble, caressing Taehyung’s hand as he sleeps. “I promised I wouldn’t.”

He nods. “Follow me, then,” And leaves.

You have to jog a bit to catch up to him, but soon enough you are in his office, and from behind his desk, he produces a duffle bag. Grabbing a few things, he gives them to you and tells you to go take a long, relaxing shower. Doing as he says, you take your time, asking a few nurses if it’s okay to take a shower since they are only starting their shifts and won’t need the shower for a while. You’ve become acquainted with a few of them and they all give you the okay. The sweatpants and t-shirt he gave you are obviously too large for you, but you like the way it looks anyways. Smiling at yourself, and at how stupid you must look, you stop by the vending machine to get a snack. You get two energy bars, knowing that Dr. Im will be with Taehyung when you get back. Said and done; Jaebeom is laughing at something that your brother is doing and you wonder if one day you’ll get to call him Jaebeom out loud. 

“Hello there,” You say lightly, blushing a little at the way Jaebeom looks at you in his clothes. “Thank you for the clothes, doctor.”

“No problem, Y/N,” He smiles, and you don’t fail to notice the redness in his cheeks. 

“I got you this,” You say giving him one of the energy bars, and putting the other in his pocket. “You need to eat to take care of other people.”

He laughs and one of his hands fly to push his hair back and grab at the back of his neck, a habit you notice he does whenever he’s embarrassed. “Thank you.”

“Eat it,” You squint at him playfully. “Right now.”

“I have to check on a patient,” He says taking a huge bite, finishing it almost in one go. “I’ll be back to check on you, okay?”

“Alright,” You smile, and you don’t call attention to the fact that he said he’d be checking on you. You like it. “See you later."

You don’t– see him later, that is. You are not sure what happens but Dr. Im doesn’t come around anymore; another day goes by and even Taehyung notices the change, asking for his doctor to the nurses. She all just say he’s busy taking care of other people, but there’s something off about them, too. One of them, Nurse Lee, asks you to follow her to the counter where you can sign the discharge papers so that you can finally take your brother home, and you hear a couple of other doctors talking.

“…yeah, they died,” A shiver runs through your spine with those words and you take a deep breath and focus on reading the papers in your hand. “Jaebeom did his best, but not everyone can be saved.”

“You know how he is though,” The other doctor sighs. “Is he alright?”

“No,” They shake their heads. “Definitely not.”

Signing everything, you tell the nurses you’ll be right back, and you run to the office you’ve gotten to know so well. During your brother’s recovery, Dr. Im has been you friend, you dare to say. You’ve silently eaten with him in his office as he did some work and you read a book; you’ve talked to him about his grandmother; you’ve taken snacks to his office late at night. It was your way to repay him, after everything he’s done for you and your family. You went from thinking he hated you, to understanding how hard his job is on him. And right now, it was exactly one of those moments, in which the harshness of his reality is laid upon him, and you can’t do anything but knock on his door and pray that he’ll open. 

“Yes?” 

His voice sounds harsh and used out. His eyes find yours instantly and they turn back into those scrutinizing eyes you first met.

“Hi,” You say, suddenly uncomfortable. “You didn’t come by yesterday and today and I–“

“I am too busy to attend just to you and your brother,” He snaps. “I have a whole lot of people needing me, too, you know?”

The coldness from his voice reminds you of the first time you met him, when you stood under his scrutinizing gaze. 

“Or do you think I have nothing better to do than to have to waste all of my time–“

“With me?” You interrupt him. “Just so you know, you didn’t have to spend your time with me, but I guess I should thank you, since you did, right?”

“Wha-“

“You don’t have to worry anymore, doctor,” You sneer. “We leave tonight. Here, this is a small thank you gift for wasting time with me.”

You give him the plastic bag with all snacks from the vending machine– literally all of them. It wasn’t much, but it would last him a few shifts, at least. All you wanted was for him to get better too; you weren’t dumb, you could easily see the suffering in his eyes, even at that moment– specially at that moment,– but you couldn’t just let him walk all over you like that. You had to stand your ground, like you did ever since you met him. 

“Whatever happened,” You say through gritted teeth. “It’s not your fault. Nor mine. Remember that.”

You leave him and you go back to Taehyung. 

Fuck Dr. Im, you think, furiously wiping a tear. It seems as if all you do is cry, and you are tired of it. I have Taehyung, alive and well. That should be enough.

                                                               ————————

Your days are back to normal– you wake up, check on Taehyung, and go to work, where you’ll spend hours and hours until you don’t have to spend any more time in there but you do still, baking a fresh batch of a different good every night, before calling the delivery man to take it away. 

Today, you make chocolate scones, using Ms. Im’s recipe just how she taught you years ago.

“Still baking?” She asks. “Is something wrong?”

“Not at all,” You smile, and put a scone in a take away box. “Here, for the trip.”

“Thank you, dear,” She smiles. “These used to be Jaebeom’s favorite.”

You smile and wave her goodbye, promising to close the store and go home soon. You do whatever task you have to keep you busy– cleaning the tables, wiping the floor, washing the dishes, freezing the dough. Anything to keep you from thinking about him. But it’s impossible. You think about him even more now, having a face to the name. Im Jaebeom. Ms. Im still talks about him every day and there’s nothing you can say or do that would justify the reason you want her to stop. 

He saved my brother’s life, and in the process he saved mine, too. He is kind and selfless and honest, but he is also tired and confused and overwhelmed. I want to care for him like he cared for me. Is this love?

No, you couldn’t say that to her. Much less to him.

“Excuse me, are you still open? I heard you guys had chocolate scones and I just had to come get one.” 

You freeze, body already stiff from work now barely being able to move.

“We’re closed,” You mumble, not looking at him. “But I can get you some scones to go.”

“If I take them to go,” He asks and you can see his feet, clad in black sneakers and tapping nervously on the floor. “Will you come with me?”

“Is this a pick up line?” You scoff.

“No, I just want to have these with you,” He chuckles and you can’t help yourself, you look at him, craving to see his eyes disappear when he smiles. “A thank you for all the food you’ve been sending to the hospital every night…”

“I’m glad,” You smile tightly, taking the apron off and hanging it on the wall. You push the cardboard box towards him. “Here you go. Have a goodnight.”

His smile is gone in a second. “Y/N…”

“You were very clear, Jaebeom,” You say sternly. “I’ll call you Jaebeom now, since we’re not in the hospital– you were very clear, Jaebeom. You are wasting your time with me; patients are waiting for you, families, friends. I’m just the girl that works with your grandmother… You have nothing to worry about, I won’t tell her anything, but it’s best if we stop this here.”

“Stop?” He asks, eyes wide. “I don’t think it’s that easy, Y/N. I missed you– did you know that? Of course you didn’t, but I’m here telling you: I missed you, goddammit. I’m a doctor, and I’m always frustrated about something, and stressed, and tired, but for the week you spent there, I felt completely okay, because I knew that in the end of the day, I’d have a constant thing in my life; Taehyung-ie and you, waiting for me with snacks. Asking me about my day. Asking me if I’m okay. People don’t do that, in the hospital– they have their own problems, and every day is a different surprise, but it felt good to have a constant, even for a little while.”

You say nothing, taking your time to process everything he’s saying.

“I’m sorry for being an asshole,” He chuckle. “I had just lost a patient; there were complications with his condition before surgery but we couldn’t wait and I lost him… But you were right, it’s not my fault, and it’s not yours. You shouldn’t have to put up with my anger, but I really, really hope you chose to put up with me despite my anger. I won’t lie, this happens a lot– the angry part. It comes with the job, even though we try our hardest to hide, but I promise to try my best to never let it all out on you ever again… please forgive me.”

You sigh, walking to him. He was wearing casual clothes and he finally looked his age, the gray hoodie and blue jeans bringing out the youth in him.

“You haven’t been eating regularly, have you?” You frown, hands holding his face. Your thumb brushes his cheekbones and his eyes are shining with something unknown to you– want, maybe. “I send you freshly baked goods everyday and you still look like you’ve lost weight…”

“What are you doing to me?” He mumbles, nuzzling his face in your hand and pulling you closer by the waist, resting his forehead on yours. “You’re messing with my head, Y/N…”

“Nah,” You chuckle, kissing his nose. “That’s your job.”

“That is possibly the lamest joke someone ever made about my job,” He laughs, and ah! there it is– cute little slits. The reason you love that so much is that it makes you all warm inside to know you can make him smile so hard that his eyes disappear. “But I love it anyways.”

“Does that mean I can make more of those?” You ask animatedly, pulling away slightly. “Cause I have a bunch of neurosurgery jokes I can ma–“

He shuts you up with a kiss and you instantly know he ate your scones before coming over, tasting the sugar and the chocolate in his mouth. It lasts long, and you prefer it that way– you want to take your timing discovering everything about Jaebeom. From the way his mouth drags over yours, chapped lips kissing you softly, to the way his hands find their way to your hair, your jawline, your waist. He pulls you closer, hugging you to him, and just as he is pressing you against the counter, you feel a vibration coming from his pocket. 

“Please tell me that your phone,” You snort a little, trying to hold your laughter in.

“Hilarious,” He says, rolling his eyes but smiling nonetheless.

“Do you have to go back?”

He nods. “Yeah, one of the patients needs surgery sooner than we thought… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t ever apologize for saving lives,” You frown, pecking his lips. “Text me when you get home?”

“Absolutely,” He kisses you deeply. “I’ll see you soon.”

He sees you sooner than he thought he would. The next day, when he texts you his shift is over in thirty, you go over to the hospital, with croissants and tea. When he sees you waiting by the main entrance, he can’t help but laugh out loud.

“You said that having a constant was nice,” You shrug as he kisses your face allover. “I’ll be your constant from now on.”

“I’d love that,” He says. “Love you.”

“Love you, too,” You smile. “I think.”

“You think?” He shrieks, pulling you to his car by the hand. 

“Yeah… can you take a look inside and find out for me?” You say tapping your head. 

He just looks at you, no emotion.

“If I ever get a song stuck in my mind,” You say, buckling up when Jaebeom starts the car. “Can you get it out for me?”

“Oh my god,” He lets his head fall on the wheel. “Is this what I signed up for?”

“Absolutely,” You giggle, and he turns to look at you. “Regret it yet?”

“No, but I’m sure you’ll get me there by the end of the night.”

“Yah!”

“I told you,” He grabs your hand, laughing. “You mess with my head. Crazy girl… tsk, gonna me crazy too.”

“By the way,” You start. “How will we break it to your grandmother?”

“What do you mean,” Jaebeom laughs. “She knows. She’s known for about seven years, now.”

“What?” You shout, head turning to look at him. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know about you,” He shrugs. “But she’d talk about you a lot. Good things only– such a pretty girl, so kind, so nice. Ah, Jaebeom-ah, you remind me of Y/N… you two would get along so well. I’m pretty sure I fell in love with you before even knowing you.”

“Oh my god,” You gasp. “Ms. Im is a love genius.”

“I had to take after someone, you know?” Jaebeom brags.

For the rest of the night, you two bicker, laughing and kissing in between, and even though you promised to be his constant, barely did he know he’d be yours. 

---------------------

hello lovelies! I decided that I will now post a new part of the General Hospital series every weekend, so here it is Jaebeom’s story! He is my ult bias and I love him so much so i really hope you all enjoy it ❤️ please leave a comment and share it if you like the story! It really means the world for us writers when we get feedback :P Love you all and thank you for your endless support💕

[sonderthroughthestreets]

Splitting Universes

Here is the sobbe fic that I wanted to write for their anniversary last friday but obviously im late for it lol

Someone said that Sander said “In every universe” because it comforts Robbe with his multiverse theory and that Robbe said “At least in this universe” because it comforts Sander who believes that life is what you choose to make of it. Sooooo, here is Sander painting on Robbe’s back while talking about the universe and brown-haired Sander asking Robbe to marry him. Hope you enjoy!

“Hold still, will you?” Sander’s voice faltered into a chuckle.

He was sitting on the floor, back to the edge of the bed, legs crossed, holding Robbe as he tried to glide his paintbrush across the skin on his back. The two of them had summer break before the start of the next year and they’d somehow found themselves fooling around, dancing in Sander’s room and finally settled into a spark of an idea in Robbe’s mind to let him paint his back. His shirt was gone and he’d sunk into the floor, crossing his legs too, leaning forward instead of letting himself lean back in the comfort of Sander’s arms.

“The paint is cold. I’m cold ok,” Robbe scoffed, turning his head to try to meet his eyes with a smile. But Sander smirked with half-lidded eyes and pushed his head back into place. He let out a breath of the tiniest laugh.

It was killing Robbe not to look at him. Especially not after he grew out his hair. Sander had cut it a few years ago and let it go back to its natural brown, let the bleach blond wash out and wash away. It was terribly short then, but now it had grown out in longer locks that he just had to style every morning. Today, it was tousled in a messy-but-every-hair-was-perfectly-in-place kind of way. It looked similar to when his hair was bleached but darker roots had replaced the white wash. Some days Robbe could swear he’d seen Sander like this his whole life and others he felt like he was looking at a whole new world.

He also wished that he could see his face right now, the concentration he wore when a creative mood strikes.

“Are you almost done?” Robbe asked.

“Not even close,” Sander answered, his fingers moving swiftly, changing between brushes and colours.

“Can you at least give me a hint?”

“Mmhhh,” he mused. “It’s something we talk about a lot.”

“That could literally be anything,” Robbe pouted. He wanted to know what Sander envisioned across his back.

“Let’s talk about it now,” he dipped his brush in water. “You think that when someone makes a decision, the universe splits itself,” he said. Nothing more. Silence as Robbe contemplated.

“You’re painting me the universe?” Robbe shifted to try to look back at him.

“Hold. still.” Sander gripped his shoulders.

“What kind of universe?” Robbe pondered. He lazily ran a finger down his own palm as he awaited his answer, the fan humming in the summer heat.

“I don’t know” he smiled, though Robbe couldn’t see it. “Any universe you want.”

The way he said that made Robbe smile too. The way that when he said it, he meant all the universes, that he could have any universe because in all of them, one way or another, they were together.

“Hhmmm,” Robbe murmured in contentment. He stared around Sander’s room: the Bowie posters spread across the walls, his camera laying on his disorganized desk, papers and drawing utensils scattered, his easel in the corner, the dresser off to the side, his clothes neatly folded on the bed. The open window let the warm breeze through and the sky made everything in his room glow the softest, palest blues, greys and greens. Robbe’s eyes finally landed on his shirt discarded on the hardwood floor and he felt shivers all over again as cold paint slid on his skin.

It was moments like these where they talked some, then fell into silence, talked some more and finally fell into each other’s touch that eased both their minds. Sander was very quiet now.

“What are you thinking?” Robbe asked.

A sort of sad smile crossed his face, one that he couldn’t see.

“Sander.”

And Sander knew that tone all too well. He delicately placed a hand on Robbe’s neck, softly smiled into his hair and kissed his head. Once, twice, a third time for good measure.

“Do you remember our first night at the hotel?” he asked softly.

“How could I forget?” Robbe sighed happily. But his fingers weren’t on him anymore and Robbe actually felt heat dissipate from behind him as Sander leaned back a bit. He turned his head the slightest, hesitant to look at him for fear he might actually ruin the work on his back. Robbe waited patiently. He recognized his insecurities at play but he wasn’t quite sure of what.

“I know that..” Sander started. “I know that that night I wasn’t...but I meant every word...and I know that I asked once already...”

He was grasping for courage to say what he wanted. Robbe knew he could be ever so confident in his words, even more so in his touch, but sometimes it faltered and he saw him sheepish and insecure. Things started to click in Robbe’s mind. They hadn’t exactly talked about this since that night. At least not seriously. It was always fun banter, like an inside joke or like the continuation of an ongoing plan that may or may not ever be seen through. They were so busy living in the moment, the future had seemed so far away.

It had been

“When we get married I’m painting everything in the house. We’re not buying prints”

“When we get married?”

“We’re getting married right now”

It had been

“Mr. Driesen”

“Oh, we’re married now?”

“In my mind we are”

It had been

“Do you think I should get another ring?”

“Depends. Do you want to be called Mr. Ijzermans?”

It had been

“You’re making croques again? Marry me”

“Okay”

Laughter and kisses always followed. Comfort in agreeing a million different ways was always found. But a concrete, tangible answer was never there.

Robbe understood now why Sander had seemed hesitant and unsure with all this talk of the universe and decisions. They’d been together for more than two years now yet they hadn’t really made official plans for marriage. They were still studying in uni which meant of course, they’d wait until after, but it was never a conversation that lasted very long. While Robbe had talked about all his theories, Sander had made sure to tell him that he’d choose him in every universe. But sometimes it seemed he became overwhelmed with that many versions of them and he didn’t want to think of a world where they might not choose each other every day. Robbe shifted his legs carefully and placed a hand on Sander’s knee, feeling the fabric of his shorts cling in the heat. A signal, a sign, a plea to carry on. They could both feel a nervousness set in, their hearts fluttering in this fleeting moment.

Sander sighed.

“Robbe Ijzermans” he said. “Will you marry m-“

He didn’t even get to utter the question before Robbe turned around, took his face in his hands and connected their lips together in an open-mouthed kiss.

 When someone makes a decision, the universe splits itself.

 Sander had a lot of time the past couple of years to think of this. Robbe loved to talk about the multiverse theory, the parallel universes, and the alternate dimensions. He talked his ear off about how each can be so different and in one he’d find himself being a skater or a gamer, in another he’d find himself studying anthropology, and in another he may even have gone to an elite school. Or more so maybe he could’ve been the one studying art instead. Or how he could be in one where he didn’t meet his friends, in one where he didn’t have to miss his mama so much growing up, or one where his dad made different choices. Choices. Decisions. It always came back to that. If we all made different decisions, life could’ve been very different, Robbe had said. And once we make a decision, there are two worlds, one where you chose one thing, another where you chose different.

Whether Sander wanted to admit it or not, that scared him a lot. It scared him to think there could be a world where he continued on with Britt or worse, one where he hadn’t met Robbe. And with each decision solidifying closer and closer a world where Sander and Robbe stay together, he had wondered if living in this universe was enough. If not thinking of the other worlds and staying here together was enough. 

Robbe had soothed his worries, tapped the worry lines on his forehead, kissed his temple and had run fingers softly through his auburn hair. He had reminded him of his own theories of life becoming what you choose to make of it. He had reminded him that they were together in this universe.

But nothing was reminding him of that fact more than this kiss they were now sharing.

Sander’s fingers tangled in Robbe’s hair, now a bit longer and fluffier, his mouth softly tracing unspoken words into his lips. He felt Robbe’s hands slide from his face to his neck to grip his black t-shirt and pull them up as they both rose to their knees, a more comfortable position than before. They both let each other fill their lungs up in this hot, searing kiss, somehow both passionate and gentle. Sander breathed out as he broke apart first.

“Will you?” he teased.

“Yes,” Robbe pulled him in for another kiss. “Yes.”

And just like that a decision was made, a world was created.

Sander broke the kiss again.

“I don’t have a ring for you,” he smirked.

“I don’t care,” Robbe’s mouth etched up as he drew closer, searching his lips. Both of their eyes twinkled in an enticing, tantalizing manner. Instead Sander leaned back and smiled, standing up to get his ring from the dresser.

“Here,” he slipped it onto Robbe’s slender finger.

“Thank you. It doesn’t fit,” he snorted because sure enough, it was a little loose and sliding off his hand. This proposal was far from the real thing Sander had planned, especially since they were still students, struggling to keep afloat in the midst of studies and spending time together, but this moment was finally real.

As Sander took back the ring and slid it on his own hand, Robbe asked,

“Did you really paint the universe on my back?”

Right. He’d almost forgotten what prompted him to think about their future together in the first place.

“Come,” he tilted his head in the direction of the bathroom in the hall. He took Robbe’s hands and lead him to the mirror where he turned him around and showed him.

It was a galaxy of stars and sparkles, colours of blacks, dark purples, greens, pinks and blues all mixed into a combination of an ethereal light. It was everything Sander had been thinking about with Robbe. His fears, his doubts, his joy, his love.

“In every universe, right?” Sander entwined his fingers with Robbe as they both stared at his back in the reflection. Robbe took the time to stare at it a while longer.

“Yeah,” he said. Then he looked at Sander with dark, dilated eyes, squeezing his hand. “But especially in this universe, too.”

[crash-cinematic-universe]

Abed Nadir and his need to count the seconds

pairing: abed nadir/troy barnes (it’s Light but I wrote it with the intent for trobed)

summary: Abed Nadir hates being alone in general, so when his friends disappear and leave him alone in a sea of job-seeking students he struggles to keep his head above water. 

request:  okay wait ur abed headcanons got me thinking. abed angst. kings gotta have abandonment issues cuz of his parents YES I'm projecting a little bit. u don't have to do this if it makes u too sad tho - @ghost-butch

warnings: abandonment issues, anxiety attacks, s/h (kinda; in the form of clenching ur fists too hard)

notes: writing abed angst makes me sad ): why did i do this to him he deserves better. also im about to punch evil abed in the face ):< just over 2k words with this one so thats Cool also its midnight and i have school tomorrow arent i epic and cool. 

taglist: @simonsbluee

  _____________

            Fifteen minutes and twenty-two seconds. Abed had been lost for fifteen minutes and twenty-two second. Abed’s eyes were trained on the clock hanging on the wall, each tick of the second hand amplified in his head to a piercing shout. Everything was bigger; the lights were blindingly bright and his clothes felt as if they were clawing at his skin. With each passing second Abed became increasingly worried, his breath getting shallower and shallower with each rise of his chest. His eyes returned to the clock on the wall, his stomach jumping at the reading-- sixteen minutes and fourteen seconds.

            The study group had promised Abed they’d accompany him to the job fair. They promised they’d be by his side the entire time; Abed didn’t do well alone in large crowds, especially in new environments. He’d gotten distracted by an engineering booth in the corner with a large lego replica of the millennium falcon hanging in the corner. He looked away from his friends for no more than thirteen seconds, but in those thirteen seconds, they disappeared in the sea of students and booths and interns. Thus, leaving Abed completely alone in a mass of strangers in a building that he’d never seen before. 

            His anxiety had built up with every minute he was lost. It was gradual; he started with the initial panic, followed by frantic searching for familiar faces in the crowd. It wasn’t long after that when his heart rate began to pick up, and within minutes his skin felt as if it was on fire. Abed couldn’t really pinpoint exactly when he’d begun to shuffle backwards out of the large venue the job fair was held in. Before he knew it, he was at the end of a dimly lit hallway, completely alone. He slunk to the floor and pulled his knees to his chest.

            They’ll look for me, he thought. They’re probably looking for me now. Abed reached into his pocket for his cellphone before he realized he’d left it with Troy. The emptiness of his pocket felt endless, his hand tingling where the fabric of his shorts met his skin. The familiar whine that Abed let out when he became overwhelmed filled the empty hallway, the tone only making his anxiety worse. He cursed himself for not thinking ahead-- he’d left all of his fidget toys and putty in his messenger bag which he also left with Troy. 

            It was then that a tiny voice in the back of his head spoke up-- maybe they left, it called. Abed shook his head, but the voice persisted. They left you. They’re gone, and no one is coming for you. A familiar figure materialized in the vast shadows at the other end of the hallway; Evil Abed smirked at him from where he stood.

            “They’re gone,” He repeated. “They were waiting for something to draw you away for them so they could slip away,”

            “That’s not true.” Abed’s fingers absentmindedly dug into his palm. “They wouldn’t do that-- Troy wouldn’t do that. Jeff and Britta, maybe, but not Troy. Not Annie.” Truthfully, Abed didn’t believe that Jeff or Britta would leave, but he wasn’t thinking clearly in the moment.

            “Riddle me this, Abed, who does Troy respect more: you or Jeff? Who does he think is cooler? Who does he idolize more?” Evil Abed’s voice was smug and cruel. It felt as if his words were burrowing through his brain and fogging up his thoughts. “Sure, Troy might tolerate you, but he worships Jeff. If Jeff wanted to leave, then surely Britta and Annie would tag along. It’s inevitable that Troy would join them, isn’t it?” Abed shut his eyes tightly, but that didn’t do much to ward off his evil counterpart.

            A film played behind Abed’s eyelids, the poetic irony of his worst fears being portrayed through his favorite thing making his heart ache. There they were: Jeff, Britta, Troy, Annie, all standing in a tight group as Abed wandered off. Their expressions and movements were exaggerated, but Abed didn’t care. He just sat and watched as the scene unfolded.

            “God, I can’t believe he roped us into this,” Jeff groaned, his hands gripping his cellphone as if someone were going to take it from him. “What kind of loser can’t go to a damn fair by himself? I could have a hot redhead hanging on my arm at a sports bar and instead I’m babysitting a twenty-five-year-old.”

            “C’mon Jeff, we’re here for Abed. God knows if he came here alone he’d probably drive everyone here crazy with his “Inspector Spacetime” BS.” Britta chimed in, a tired tone in her voice. Annie looked antsy as always, while Troy looked unsure. Abed wasn’t sure of what, exactly. 

            Slowly, Abed  wandered a few feet away from the group. Jeff’s face lit up the same way it does when he sees an attractive student in the hallways. A borderline cartoon-ish grin grew on his face as he pulled the group tighter.

            “Hey, Abed’s gone. Let’s take this window and get the hell out of here while the cat is distracted by the lazer,” He chuckled. Britta smiled and nodded, quickly grabbing Annie’s hand in an attempt to pull her out. The three of them made their way to the exit, leaving Troy alone. He turned around to glance at Abed before rolling his eyes and running after Jeff. Abed was alone.

            The image faded away, and to Abed’s surprise, Evil Abed faded away with it. For a split second, Abed was disappointed. He really, really, really didn’t want to be alone-- even if his only companion was an evil version of himself. A minute passes before Abed realizes he was crying, that revelation followed by the realization that his fingernails dug into his palm so hard he broke the skin. His tears blurred his vision and made his surrounding seem much smaller, much darker, much lonelier. His eyes no longer portrayed a dim hallway. Instead, Abed saw the same tiny locker he was locked in so often as a teenager.  He could smell the rusted metal of the locker hinges. He could feel the chipped paint rubbing against his skin. He couldn’t breathe. Abed couldn’t breathe-- the entire world was closing in on him. He was cold and alone and no one was coming for him. His friends left him and they weren’t coming back. Everyone who he cares about leaves him, why would they be any different? He watched the world pass by through the tiny slits in the door before his eyes screwed shut again as he choked on air.

            He was in agony. His entire body shook and his heart pounded so hard he felt as if it were going to burst. Abed wanted to go home, he wanted to be back at Greendale with Troy and the rest of his friends but he was trapped. His arms began to cramp up from how hard he had tensed, his knuckles a pale white from how tightly he was clenching his fists. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t speak or sob or scream; he was stuck. Locked away. The outside world faded away as Abed retreated into his mind. He tried to hide away in his head forever until a janitor stumbled upon his frozen shell of a body tomorrow morning. There was an echoing sound, however, that kept drawing him from the abyss of his brain.

            Footsteps. He could hear footsteps. Abed couldn’t tell whether or not they were real, but he could guess who’s footsteps they were. They were frantic and uneven-- they had the potential to be rhythmic, but the walker was urgent. Worried. The biggest identifying factor, though, was the quiet sound of plastic aglets on the tile floor; their shoes were untied. Abed smiled weakly as he recalled the fact that Troy almost never had his shoes tied. A glimmer of hope shone through the small slits in the locker door as the footsteps grew closer.

            “Abed?” Troy’s voice cut through the silence in the hallway. He turned the corner and froze as his eyes landed on his friend. “Abed? God, there you are! You scared me half to death, and Jeff was already boring me to death with his lame lawyer stories, so now I’m only, like, a fourth away from death!”

            Abed didn’t reply. He couldn’t-- he still didn’t know if Troy was real or just another image. He was still locked away, after all. Troy could tell something was wrong; Abed’s eyes had glazed over and he looked like he’d seen a ghost. Troy hurried over, his eyes frantically assessing the situation at hand. He saw the blood on Abed’s palms and his stomach lurched. 

            “Hey, Abed, are you alright?” Troy asked softly. “Did something happen?” Abed did not reply, instead releasing a small, high-pitched whine. Everything was foggy-- it was all too foggy for Abed to know whether or not he was simply envisioning this angel of a human.

            “Alright, uh, I’m going to touch your wrist. Is that alright?” Abed hesitated before nodding ever-so-slightly.

            Gently, Troy wrapped his hand around Abed’s wrist. The contact was startling, but not unwelcome. Abed was becoming more and more sure that this Troy was real. The tight locker melted away to reveal the same dark hallway; his anxiety was eased a bit,but he still couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that settled over him. He glanced at the clock once again-- he was alone for thirty-two minutes and forty-seven seconds in total. 

            “I’m sorry I lost you,” Troy spoke quietly. His voice was comforting and genuine, his face soft and kind. He didn’t match the Troy that Evil Abed created at all. “I know this place is overwhelming, I’m so sorry. We should’ve been more attentive and more careful, this place is like a maze.” Abed soon realized he was too tired to respond verbally, instead opting to hold Troy’s hand. A silent reassurance was exchanged through their intertwined fingers. Abed’s palms stung a bit, but he couldn’t bring himself to do anything about it. He was just so tired. His muscles were sore and his chest ached and his head pounded. He wanted to go home. 

            “Britta was practically running across the building looking for you, ya know,” Troy said. His hand was still holding Abed’s. “Annie started crying after 10 minutes, and for a second Jeff looked like he was going to cry, too. They were all so worried. I was worried, too. The thought of something bad happening to you was too much to handle.”

            “I know you hate being alone, too. I guess you probably thought we ditched you or something. Jeff thought you ditched us, but I knew that wasn’t true. It doesn’t really matter, though, because I’m here now,” That final phrase echoed in Abed’s mind as he sat beside his friend. “I want you to know that I really care about you. I want-- I need you to know that I would never ever ditch you like that. Not in a million billion years, not even for a million dollars,”

            They sat there for a few more minutes before Annie turned the corner and shouted, sprinting full speed towards the two men at the end of the hallway. Britta and Jeff followed closely after, a wave of relief washing over their faces. They all gushed about their worries and concerns. Annie was quick to tend to the small indents in Abed’s palm, and Jeff and Britta talked about how freaked they were when they realized Abed disappeared. Jeff mentioned stopping by every directing booth in the entire building to see if Abed had landed there-- he even grabbed a few pamphlets for him to flick through later. Finally, Abed gained the energy to stand up, and he walked down the hallway with his friends beside him and Troy’s fingers still laced with him.

            On his way out, Abed glanced at the clock on the wall-- twenty-two minutes and twelve seconds. Abed had been surrounded by his wonderfully chaotic family for the past twenty-two minutes, and he’d never felt more secure.

[normal-thoughts-official]

Do you have any hcs for Magnus taking ppl to pride for the first time? I kinda feel like he’d act as a guide for others, making sure everyone feels safe and happy during their first time. Like, I can picture him bringing daylighter Raphael out for the first time, showing Meliorn around (bc even though they’ve been around for a while, the Seelies don’t really do human stuff) and holding Alec’s hand while he looks around in amazement.

well surprise surprise this got very long. bet y’all never saw that coming

ok so i particularly love this ask because like, the idea of meliorn going to pride for the first time is a riot and i adore it

like seelie society has developed completely independently from mundane society in every way, hell, it existed before humans did. so there's absolutely no reason whatsoever to believe that their culture even has the concepts of gender of sexuality, and believing that it would be the same as modern western ones is just straight up anachronistic tbh

so like personally i hc that seelie society has no gender (and therefore no concept of sexuality in the way that we see it), so the idea of pride- doesn't even make sense to them, cuz there's no concept of these identities, much less a history of oppression that would bring forward the need to celebrate their resistance like there currently is

so meliorn would want to go just to like, see what that's like and what's it all about. and the whole time they're just following Magnus around and like, taking notes. hm, interesting, what is this trans thing again? ah yes, people who dont think their personality matches the one mundanes believe would be brought by their genitals. hm. fascinating. and Magnus is just like, laughing loudly and it's the best pride he's ever been to, because he knows how ridiculous queerphobia and cishetnormativity are, but meliorn can make that so clear in their words in a way thats just, like, fantastic to hear, you know? and they dont even mean to, but it's great all the same

plus meliorn actually does feel good because a lot of people look at them and smile broadly or even wave, especially younger people who are just like, in awe of them and Magnus, who are so unapologetically gnc and indisputably beautiful, and looking at them is just like, inspiring, you know? and Meliorn has never felt this admired and appreciated and they dont even fully understand why, they're just walking around in their usual clothing and leaf makeup and everyone is just like, in love with them. and it's nice. they can tell there's an edge of sadness to the whole thing, like how their normal everyday existence seems to be so shocking and refreshing for these people, but mostly they feel good about it

later they bring their findings to the other seelies - you know, the ones who dont usually leave the realm and are way less familiar with mundane culture(s) than they are - and the others are like. shut up. there's no way this is real. the shape of their genital defines what wavelength they are supposed to find appealing? this makes no sense. and meliorn's like "idk what to tell u buddy i literally physically can't lie" and they're like surely this is an elaborate prank

but anyway it's fun and nice and they enjoy it greatly and ask Magnus a lot of questions, and Magnus loves going with them more than anyone else because its just so fun and the way this is completely unnatural to them feels refreshing - Magnus doesnt have to explain why he feels the way he feels, for once, but rather he has to explain why people dont get that, and thats a good change tbh

okay onto other ppl im sorry for this tangent djdndjdndk RAPHAEL YES. god i just. okay i love the mental image of Magnus taking Raphael to pride aaaaaaaa

like okay first of all so many layeRS to make this emotional, okay. the fact that he's now a daylighter and can enjoy being out in the sun, the fact that this is a bright costumed parade and it kinda reminds him of the día de los muertos parade and makes him feel at home, the fact that he gets to celebrate and meet other ace ppl - just, so many good things going on here dundidmdi

and Raphael was kinda unsure about going because 1- pride can get pretty sexual at times, and while he gets it and doesn't mind other people's business, he doesn't want to be hit on or participate in that; 2- big crowd makes senses go craycray and it can get very overwhelming and he's scared of overload, plus it's just not his scene in general with huge parties and such. but a part of him does want to go and he's torn, so of course Magnus is immediately like "oh dear, don't worry, i can take you, i'll make sure it's good" and Raphael is like okay

so Magnus takes him and it's :') nice, because as always he’s just so attentive. disclosure i’ve only ever been to the São Paulo pride so i’m gonna go with how it works in here but im assuming it’s not that different in like, other places. also São Paulo currently has the biggest pride parade in the world along with NYC so you know, i think it’s influential at the very least

anyway so he finds a section that’s led by ace pride groups, one that’s considerably small (in number of ppl) and spacious, and it’s. nice. very nice. magnus makes it a point to paint the ace pride colors on raphael’s face (we deserve raphael in makeup tbh) and raphael is all like “it’s fine, it’s not like i’ll want to draw a lot of attention” (like he isn’t wearing the ace flag colors already) and magnus is like hush, let me have this, i want my boy to have a good pride experience. so raphael lets him and hides his smile and lets him, and it’s. cute okay

also idk why but i have the mental image of raphael seeing some other latino guy with some sign like. “i’m not your fetish” or something of the sort, and kind of tearing up because his whole life he’s been seen as this kind of sexual fantasy that couldn’t not be about sex, much less not be interested in it, and he feels seen. and it’s nice, okay

and as promised it’s not too overwhelming in matters of like people, tactile issues and such (there’s little magnus can do about the noise other than spell raphael to decrease his sensitivity so he doesn’t get overwhelmed, which is not ideal because it makes communication a bit harder between them, but he does it anyway if raphael asks him to), and if raphael gets tired, they can always turn into a corner and take a portal back home and cuddle the post-crowd jitteriness away. so it’s a success. and raphael hugs magnus later and thanks him and says that it was so great, that he’s missed this, the energy and the colors and the sun, and he never thought he’d get to have it again, and he did thanks to magnus. and magnus hugs him back and tells him “anything for you, my boy,” and it’s the sweetest thing okay im emo

also okay this still falls under Raphael and Meliorn but the POLYCULE okay, or at least saiaphaeliorn. like sign me the fuck up for the 4 of them together at pride, meliorn and magnus helping make some cute pride-themed makeup on the other 3, just aaaaaaaaa. maia looking absolutely gorgeous with her face framed in the bright bi colors, maybe a sunny dress with the trans flag colors? just because i think she’d look so cute in like, a mostly white dress with baby pink and blue details, okay. simon just paints the pan flag on his cheek but it’s still vibrant and cute and it suits him. and ghhghghghg meliorn delicately painting raphael’s face with colorful glitter..... effervescent, okay. just beautiful

and they get to hold hands in public and laugh and crack jokes and simon loves the music and the festival and raphael smiles fondly at him and maia singing along (him and meliorn definitely don’t know what the fuck they’re singing, but it’s okay because they’re clearly happy and that makes the two of them happy too) and just duahsdiahdaiuha soft okay. also they all get to experience meliorn’s takes on the whole thing and it’s fantastic and as usual meliorn gets raphael to laugh until he almost cries, and simon smiles brightly at the sight and gives meliorn a peck for their efforts, and just aaaaaaaa

in short they’re SOFT and i’m SOFT. and look yes i know that usually parades esp big ones are super crowded (lord knows the SP pride parade is an experience) but if in SP with 5 million ppl parading i could find sections with less people where you had enough space to walk holding hands and hear each other and not be overwhelmed, then i’m sure they can too, especially with magic and powers at their disposal. so i’m going to have this

also like. as much fun as this is for magnus (and it definitely is, it’s very nice to get to enjoy to be himself openly, and to bring kids there for their first time, and you know), it’s also bittersweet because like. he was there at stonewall, he was there for the first pride, you know? and apart from the obvious part where he lost so many friends who were there, there’s just. the very bad memories of the riots, because as important as they are and as much as he obviously doesn’t regret them, riots are hard, they are the language of the oppressed. he’s had to magically protect people from being shot by the police, he’s had to withstand trial by the Clave for using magic to shield the people from the tear gas and risking being seen, he’s had to save a lot of lives and he’s failed at it sometimes, too (i’ll always hc that he’s the reason neither Marsha nor Sylvia died during the riots and you can pry that away from my cold, dead hands). and he’s also seen it be whitewashed and lose some of its resistance and meaning, he’s seen Sylvia be booed at a later march when she spoke against imprisonment, and he’s seen so much be lost

and in that sense going to pride with alec later on might be his favorite, because it’s not like, a first time where he’s trying to get everyone to have the most fun they can and shit, you know? plus alec loves watching more than he does participating, he feels way too exposed in the crowded streets with so many openings and whatnot. but watching from a rooftop, where he has the best view, can still hear the sounds and enjoy the colors and the beauty of it from a distance? that’s perfect for him, and it’s a different experience

and magnus sits by his side as they watch, hand in hand, and reminisces about everything that he’s experienced after so many years, all the changes he’s seen, how he feels pride but he also feels loss and he feels old, and he fears what happens if pride’s history is forgotten, you know? and alec listens to him, listens to his version of this story, playing with magnus’ fingers and just enjoying the sound of his voice and the sight. and it’s nice. alec is always super attentive and enjoys hearing him talk and magnus can get lost in his memories unapologetically, you know? and it’s good

but that’s later on, of course, when they’ve already attended plenty together. for alec’s first pride he probably wants it to be like, perfect, so much so that alec has to tell him to slow down again, because of course magnus wants alec to have The Full Pride Experience, but alec would rather soak it up slowly than participate in a lot of stuff, anyway. magnus paints the rainbow flag on his cheek (one of the only occasions alec lets magnus put glitter on him, then promptly complains for the next three months because i swear that stuff is still on my skin, magnus, the other day i found some on my shoes! and magnus laughs at his antics as always and alec is forced to laugh too and can’t even be mad) and they kind of stay more by the end, and alec is kind of smiling in disbelief to himself the whole time as he watches all the colors and the unapologetic way people express their pride, and magnus can’t stop looking at him and grinning, too. and they walk hand in hand and it’s cute

(later, magnus says, see, mundane culture isn’t so bad, is it? and alec looks at him with a way more serious look, full of joy and happiness, and says, no, it isn’t. and kisses him and thanks him for everything, and it’s sweet)

also I'm soft thinking about Magnus reminiscing about planning the first pride along with "his dear friend Brenda" to Alec and/or Raphael, them putting their arms around his shoulder as he tells them the softer stories, too, the good things they did

small bonus: Magnus plays 2 truths and a lie with Simon regarding his memories of past prides, and Simon gets it wrong every time and is all wide eyed by the end, which makes both Magnus and Raphael laugh :)

[polar-stars]

Shokugeki no Kimiko à la carte Series - A Surprise Guest

Author’s Note: I promised a friend, I’d write some SuzuAki once Chapter 16 of the main story is off the table (which it is...for a few weeks now actually ahdhd), so yeah, here you go. A little bit of interaction between Suzume Hojo and Akio Hayama.

Also, I’m not sure why but I implemented a bit of a rivalry between Hayama and Kuga in my verse. I mean, they have been shown to have had a Shokugeki in canon after all 🤷🏻‍♀️ But yeah, they have a bit of a rivalry in adulthood, which Kuga takes a bit more serious than Hayama does. Welp. Enjoy, I suppose ;v;

---

Akio sure knew how to keep himself on his feet.

He spent a large amount of the first holiday-week with all the organisational tasks he had as both 6th seat and Hiraku’s assistance. The gaps that weren’t occupied with paperwork, scheduling or peacemaking in the Elite’s group chat were filled instead with work in his father’s highly estimated restaurant.

“Akio?” Said father one day called his name when entering the large kitchen. The addressed teen put a stop to his movements immediately and lifted his head. “Yes?”

Akira Hayama came a little closer, a little pleased glance quickly wandering over the Kashmiri Curry his son had been working on, before he said what he wanted to say. “A classmate of yours is here.”

“A classmate?” Akio repeated in hope his father could be a little bit more precise.

Luckily Akira picked up on his son’s silent request, and not only that, but he even smirked slightly when he gave the answer. “It’s Kuga’s daughter.”

Like Akira expected it to happen, a faint hint of red began to gleam on Akio’s dark skin and his voice went up an octave when he exclaimed. “Ho...Hojo-san?”

It was no secret to anyone that the lively, golden-haired heiress to Hojo-Ro had stolen Akio’s heart. Akira often found himself surprised over how easy to read his son was in that regard. He must have picked it up from Jun, he thought.

“Why don’t go out and greet her?” Akira went on. “From what I’ve seen of her, Im sure she’d appreciate it.”

“Greet...her?” Akio stammered and in a reflex his hand began running through his hair. “...Now? But what should I say? What if-“

“Akio.” Akira stopped his son firmly, but right after a slight smile formed, adoring the innocent sight of young love. “You just go and say ‘hello’, that’s all. No one is asking you to propose to her.”

Of course his son only flushed more at that comment, but eventually he gave an unsure nod.

When Akio stepped out of the kitchen, he spotted his classmate instantly between all the monochrome suits of businessmen that had their lunch.

Dressed in a bright red blouse, white shorts, open-toed heels and oversized sunglasses Suzume Hojo studied the menu that she held in-between her painted nails.

Akio took in the sight for a couple heartbeats, wondering if Suzume was aware that she looked like a film star. Then he finally approached her.

“Hojo-san...Good Day!” He smiled while shyly raising his hand. When Suzume looked up however she only held her index-finger over her red lips. “Shush!”

Akio halted while confusion spread on his face. “Huh?” Before he could make any further inquiry however, Suzume had already erupted into jolly laughter.

“Sorry, I could not resist.” She then grinned while pulling her sunglasses upwards, exposing a pair of delighted, amethyst-coloured eyes. “Hiya, Hayama!”

“What...”, Akio took a step closer again while he fumbled with his fingers, “...What brings you here?”

At that, Suzume grin widened a little. “Good, ol’ dad, of course!” She giggled. “I’m supposed to do some spying for him.”

“Spy...Spying?” Akio repeated and tilted his head. Suzume’s amusement did not seem to fade one bit though when she gave an energetic nod back. “Dad sent me to check out how his rival’s restaurant is doing.” She threw her head back as laughter spilled out of her once again. “He can be so silly at times!”

At that, Akio’s smile fully found it’s way back on his face while a certain warmth filled his body. “Oh I see...” He laughed as well, albeit a lot more reserved. “It’s about that little clash of theirs.”

“Yep!” Suzume grinned and met Akio’s eyes again. “But hey, I’m getting some good lunch out of this.” She winked. “And I met you as well.”

Akio’s heart jumped at that statement.

Akio felt the heat in his cheeks and the panic in his head over the possibility of Suzume seeing him blush. Luckily for him she had her eyes back on the menu again.

“It’s certainly hard to make a choice though!” For a brief minute, Suzume was frowning as her eyes scanned the many different, delicious sounding offers of Akira Hayama’s crown-jewel restaurant. But then her famed grin reappeared on her face and she turned her head back to Akio, startling the youth a little.

“How about you surprise me?” Suzume beamed. “It’s been too long since I had some of your cooking, besides”, she put the menu down while a mischievous glimmer sparked in her eyes, “we have to prepare ourselves for when we’re in charge, no?”

Akio could only stare back at her, his face burning and his tongue robbed off all words.

At last he finally replied, or rather questioned. “Me?”

Suzume gave three very quick nods, her grin only getting wider. “If it isn’t any trouble for you of course.”

“It’s not!” Akio exclaimed on autopilot, while also hectically raising his hands. Worrying over having appeared in any way desperatere, he then shyly added. “If...If that’s what you want, Hojo-san...You’re a customer in the end and the customer’s wish comes first.”

“Awesome!” Suzume replied, her face radiating like the sun. And just like the sun, it warmed Akio’s heart through and through as it always did.

Finally after all his fumbling and stumbling he gave her a small smile again and said. “I’ll be getting to work then.”

[planetjisungie]

starry night-w.kh

characters: vandal! hendery, henderys gf! reader ft. shitty ass police boo we hate police on this tumblr

summary; your boyfriend said he wanted to take you out to show you the starry night but it wasnt what you expected

"what are you doing bub?" you asked, sitting on the sofa with your legs tucked under your arms, cup of hot chocolate in hands. like a child, you had a small moustache of froth and cream sitting on your top lip, matching the childish grin you had plastered on your face.

"im taking you out" hendery looked back at you and chuckled, swiping his thumb over your lip to remove the cream before going back to packing whatever he was holding into a large gym bag. perking your head up, you raised a brow and put your hot chocolate down. "where are we going?" you asked, already standing up to get ready to leave whenever your boyfriend wanted to. hendery’s eyes scanned over your figure, noting your grey trackies and white cami, slightly exposing your midriff. shaking his head, he walked into your room, pulling out a hoodie of his and shoving it over your smaller figure.

"you’ll see" he winked, slinging the bag over his shoulder. he took your hand in his, interlocking your fingers and opening the front door of your apartment, heading out from the apartment block and into the carpark. opening the foor for you, he winked as you slid into the passenger seat before throwing the bag into the boot and climbing into the driver seat. "so where are we going?" you asked again, plugging in your seatbelt and turning to him. again, hendery shrugged. "come onnn, give me a hint" you pouted, folding your arms slightly. chuckling, hendery poked his tongue through his cheek. when you were acting as cute as you were- how could he not tell you?

"we’re going to see the starry night" he had finally said, and you were already imagining the different places he could be taking you. maybe the beach, or a field, or a rooftop or even a hill in a park. however, all of these options slowly left your imaginary check list when hendery turned left, driving into the more abandoned and empty part of town. shifting in your seat, you pulled the sleeves of your boyfriends hoodie past your hands in an attempt to keep you warm, though you weren’t exactly sure that was the reason you had shivers.

parking in an almost empty car park, hendery unbuckled his seatbelt and headed to the back of the car, opening the boot. you followed after, pulling the hood over your head and yanking the drawstrings tighter to keep in the heat. "hendery, i love you very much, but why are we here?" you inquired, shuffling from foot to foot whilst the taller male slung the bag back over his shoulder and shut the boot, grabbing your hand again. "i told you, youre going to see the starry night" he repeated, causing you to be sent back into your flurry of where the fuck he was bringing you.

hendery led you into a space between two stone grey buildings, also providing as half of an alleyway. it was then he let go of your hand, dropping the back and unzipping it, revealing two face masks and a whole load of spray paint. turning towards you, he handed you a facemask and flashed a smile, pulling on his own.

"wait what" you stuttered, slowly putting the elastic around you ears while you looked at your boyfriend in confusion. you werent stupid, obviously you knew you were about to tag the wall, but you were still confused as to why he had told you you were going to see stars.

"just wait and see. go do some art on the other wall, i’ll tap you when im done" hendery sent you a sweet smile and you nodded unsurely, grabbing a can of red spraypaint in one hand and green in the other. you had already heard the rapid sounds of aeresol behind you, so you just inhaled before letting yourself get creative.

you started by drawing random lines which formed into a larger picture the more you sprayed. a giant smile made its way onto your face, the liberating freedom of being able to put your art onto a wall, where no one would know it was you but you and hendery, and the exhilarating possibility of being caught enhancing your adrenaline, fuelling you to keep going. you had barely noticed you were finished until hendery tapped your shoulder, and you took a step back.

you had drawn a widely colourful and detailed sparrow- symbolising hope.

"close your eyes" hendery uttered before rushing to hold his palms over your eyes. awkwardly spinning you to face his wall, he stood behind you, your eyes screw shut.

"and open" he removed his palms and you gasped. in front of you was a slightly more artistic version of ‘The Starry Night’ by Van Gogh, due to the shorter time period is created in. it was utterly gorgeous, and you couldnt draw your eyes away from it. so this is what hendery had meant by telling you where you were going.

before you could make a comment, you heard the blaring of sirens and turned to your boyfriend in a panic, the boy already having the paint back on his back. grabbing your hand, he sprinted off down the opposite end of the alleyway, your adrenaline still pumping through your veins and pushing you to run faster. you heard the shouts of policemen from behind you, but that didnt stop the of you, only running faster and faster, your heart drumming in its place in your chest.

you couldnt help a smile making its way onto your face, even as you both rushed into the car and sped off before the policemen could see either of your faces, driving into the night, down a random motorway. you let out a sigh and a giggle, turning to hendery out of breath. letting out his own chuckle, he turned to you and nudged you slightly with his elbow.

"i told you we’d go see the starry night"

[sheriffofmagic]

Im always a big slut for hurt/comfort, so if you made it Vang0Chainz I would perish. Also Burger Chainz trying to enculture Vang0Bang0 by having a movie marathon that turns into a sleepover. Also what if Burger knew Vang0 before he lost his memory but promised Vango that he'd never tell him who he was before. im also tipsy lol im jus throwing spaghetti places. i love your blog btwww

I was going to go to sleep but i saw this ask and had to start writing immediately (must have some weird dumb pavlovian response to vang0chainz) anyway this is super dumb hopefully, maybe you’ll enjoy it. it’s almost 5am and i didnt proofread this so its definitely a huge mess but uhhhhh here’s the trash you ordered

---

“Will you stop fussing?” Vang0 says, snappier than he intended.

Burger Chainz pulls back from where he’d been inspecting Vang0’s hurt shoulder, a mix of hurt and embarrassment on his face.

“It’s not like this is the first time I’ve been shot,” Vang0 continues, “at least… I don’t think it is. Muscle memory or somethin’. Anyways, I mean it. I’m fine. And you hovering over me like I’m about to drop dead isn’t helping.”

Vang0’s not fine, obviously. He’s been shot which, muscle memory or not, stings like a bitch and more than anything makes him mourn for his jacket which there is no salvaging from the burn marks. A shame really, the chrome color had nearly matched that of his hair. He’d been thinking of turning it into his signature look, perfect for merchandising. Oh well. He wasn’t dead so that was a plus of sorts....

They were at Vang0 and Burger’s place (technically Vang0’s but Burger was there so often the distinction hardly felt necessary anymore) and, aside from the bullet wound, this was a pretty typical Saturday night. The TV providing a low din of noise to fill the empty spaces of whatever inane conversation was taking place between the two of them. Tonight was more tense than usual. Vang0 Bang0 was not a strong man. High charisma, low constitution. All that. Hiding pain wasn’t exactly in his repertoire but ignoring it? That he might be able to manage, especially if it stopped his massive cyborg friend from pulling the kicked puppy look for the next couple of hours.

Night City wasn’t exactly known for it’s premium broadcasting, most nights after midnight channels tended to switch to the same things. Classics. Vang0 didn’t care much for it, looking back at the past, even the fictional past, wasn’t really his thing. Burger Chainz, though, Burger Chainz loved them. Tried to hide it, Vang0 knew, but he’d referenced them often enough that Vang0 picked up. Vang0 was observant like that, even though he pretended not to be.

All this to say, it was after midnight, Vang0 was the one in pain, and yet Burger looked like he was the one on the verge of a breakdown. Vang0 took pity on him, the kind he only indulged in when the streams were turned off and the hour was late and he could pretend he and Burger were just normal friends, “What’s this one about again?” 

Burger looks startled for a moment then glances briefly between the TV and Vang0, “Uhh, it’s a rom-com. He’s emailing another kid from his school but he doesn’t know who it is.”

Vang0 bites back a sardonic comment about how if this kid really wanted to know who his secret admirer was he could cross reference the dialogue patterns and… yeah maybe he can see why he’s not the most fun person to watch movies with and- oh. Burger is still talking.

“-things were different back then, ya know? People weren’t so… nice.”

Vang0 laughs, “You think people are nicer now?”

He gestures to the wound in his shoulder and Vang0 rolls his eyes (Eye? Can monochrome robotic eyes roll?) “Well, not bad folks maybe. Criminals still aren’t great. Prone to violence and all that. But normal people? Yeah I think they’re better.”

“Well aren’t you optimistic.”

Without missing a beat Burger replies with a wry smile, “Well, I have to be don’t I? With you around. Gotta cancel out that negative energy.”

Burger goes back to watching the TV, a slight uptick in the corners of his mouth. Vang0 can only look at him half dumbstruck, half distracted by the pain (getting shot really does hurt).

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Burger Chainz glances toward him, unsure, “Mean no offense. Just- you kind of assume the worst. About situations. ‘Bout people. Sometimes, even ‘bout yourself, if it’s not outta line to say.”

“It is.”

“Okay.” An awkward silence. Punctuated by the sounds of the film, too loud to be filling this space. This isn’t the conversation Vang0 wanted to be having. Not now. Not ever, if he could help it.

“How is it wrong for me to assume the worst? Huh? People do the worst all the time. We see it every day. You see the world we live in? You want me to be optimistic here? After everything I’ve gone through?”

Burger finally looks away from the screen, for once there’s no tension in his brow, only sureness. “I don’t want you to be anything other than yourself but goin’ through life thinking every shadow is out to get ya isn’t much of a way of livin’.”

“I didn’t think I’d have to remind you of all people that I have good reason to be distrustful.”

“You don’t. I-” he sighs, “I just wish you’d be willing to things as more than just black and white.”

“Oh forgive me if I’ve had some encounters,” he gestures to his shoulder, “that paint Night City in a bad light.”

Burger hesitates, “Does it hurt?”

“Obviously.”

“Right…”

They lapse into silence again, both of them staring at the screen but Vang0 can tell from the rigid set of Burger’s shoulders that he’s not really paying attention. He’s too on edge. 

It’s not until after the emotional turning point of the film that Burger Chainz breaks the silence. The kid’s friends have all abandoned him, over something stupid Vang0 presumes despite not having paid much attention to what was going on. The kid was angry. Alone. And then the resolution starts and he’s so not alone anymore.

“It can’t all be bad though, right?” Burger asks tentatively.

Vang0 raises an eyebrow at him though which he means to convey Uh well, it is. In case you forgot I was shot by a person in your dumb city just a few hours ago. But which Burger Chainz apparently interprets as… honestly Vang0 has no clue how that man’s mind works.

“I- I mean. It’s not all bad all the time. Aside from the getting shot thing. Not great.”

“Can’t forget the memory wipe.”

Burger’s eye darts around the room, “R-right that too but- But. It’s not all bad. I mean, it’s pretty bad but think about it. You have an apartment and your fans and a sorta job and Dasha and- and me.”

He pauses.

“And that can’t all be bad. I’m only sayin’- the whole world ain’t out to get you, only part of it.”

This shouldn’t be comforting. At all. It should be unsettling. It should make Vang0 want to laugh bitterly and spout some brilliant sardonic response about the world being a cruel place that doesn’t care about people like him. But the music in the movie has shifted to something more hopeful. But it’s the late hours of the night where things like hope are less dangerous to feel. But Burger is looking at him with a soft look in his eyes. Like he really believes what he’s saying, the sap, and like he wants Vang0 to believe it too. He doesn’t but for just a second, Vang0 wants to. He wants to believe in a world with gentleness, the one Burger seems to be able to see where no one else can.

He sighs. Not a defeat. Not an agreement because Vang0 never yields. But an acceptance.

Vang0 tries to release the tension from his shoulders as much as he can, schooling his face into something less jaded. If anyone deserves to believe the world isn’t all sharp edges it’s Burger.

He looks between Burger and the screen, “So do these kid’s friends suck or is that just me?”

There’s a flash of disappointment across Burger’s face, but he’s never been one to push especially not with Vang0. If he drops the subject, Burger will follow. The flash is gone in an instant and a small smile grows across Burger’s face, any residual tension drifting away with it.

“Definitely not just you, they suck. You might’ve missed it but earlier they-” 

And he semi-listens to Burger re-explain the plot of the movie he hadn’t bothered to pay attention to but he finds it capturing him more now. His attention is locked somewhere between the play-by-play and the actions occurring on screen. It’s the resolution now and everything seems to be coming together just a little to easily. The friends are back and the school is welcoming and the crush is confessed and everything is wrapped up too neatly for Vang0 to feel satisfied. There’s still a panging ache in his shoulder. His head is still chattering away as it has been since he woke up. Still there is that faint voice urging him to pull away. To focus on what he’s good at and make content and be alone and convince himself that that is enough. But the volume is so low that the old pop tune playing over the credits doesn’t feel abrasive. Burger is leaning in towards him slightly, conspiratorially, as if talking about this dumb classic is as important as mission details. There’s a smile on Burger’s lips that reaches his eyes. And Vang0 is content, for this moment, to pretend that happy endings are enough.

[the-ventriloquizt]

i was looking up adam's big backstory post, and i couldn't find it, so im going to try and gather all the info i've come up with for adam into one big old post!

adam ascott /aka/ easter info dump!

adam has a sorta complex motivation for his crimes, something that goes beyond 'getting money for trans surgeries' but somehow is exactly that... though it's hard for him to explain

it started during his childhood. childhood in metropolis while superman was there meant seeing the guy everywhere, and the expectation that you would look up to him too. adam was born anna, and his life was spent in fear of superman. it started with paranoia. you see, in metropolis, a big way that kids were made to feel safe was that superman would always be there, would always hear you. adam's bad childhood, what with bullying and a lot of victim blaming from his parents, warped this feeling into 'superman knows you're bad'.

once he started noticing he was a guy, suddenly the masculinity exuded by superman and praised by all the men around seemed threatening. this extra threatened feeling led to adam hating superman, and having awful, mean thoughts, and these mean thoughts  led to 'superman knows you hate him'.

adam tried to hide his transness for a while, kept going by anna, even though it made him ill. he began thinking of 'anna' as a different version of him, something still dying off so he could eventually pop out of her corpse, and he waited. he waited.

when he was trying to find a place for himself in metropolis after finishing high school, he was caught up in a bank robbery with some no-name creep that wanted superman's attention. since he was presenting rather femininely and seemed really vulnerable, the guy grabbed him up and dragged him all the way to the top of the bank, holding him to the edge with the threat that he'd be dropped if superman didn't come save him.

superman did show up, and the guy panicked, throwing adam off the edge to distract the superhero. someone in a building across the street took a photo, a photo of a long haired blonde person in a white dress falling to their death, doing nothing, not even screaming. superman caught him, but when he was set on the ground, superman asked...

'Are you okay, miss?'

adam screamed. it was all too much. he screamed, and he pushed away superman, and he ran past the cops, and he ran past the reporters, and he ran all the way to his shitty apartment his family got him while he was in his 'weird phase', as they called it.

'anna' had finally died. the fall killed her, and adam was still raw.

a popular tabloid would have that photo, the photo of 'anna' falling, on the front page. the article would talk about 'the mad woman of metropolis' and how adam screamed, how someone literally screamed after being saved by superman, in this day and age? what, did 'she' want to die?

adam couldn't get work after that. everywhere he went, people asked, 'aren't you that lady that freaked out after getting saved by superman??' and eventually, he couldn't stand it.

the last thing he did before he cut off his family and move away was take what money he could from his account and change his name. 'anna' had died so 'adam' took over.

not that this adam was complete. he still felt wrong when he looked at himself, new name or not. he was still a shell he needed to escape from.

in gotham, nobody asked if he was the 'lady scared of superman'. in fact, in gotham, nobody referred to him at all. he could finally wear his binder and refer to himself properly, and he could start his work. he began working in a bike delivery company during the day...

and when he saw a coded offer for a henchman for egghead leaving retirement for one last heist in the wanted pages, he decided to go for it. he was bad anyways, and he needed the money, and gotham was better. batman couldn't hear him. batman didn't know him. and it didn't matter what happened to this adam, because it was the incomplete adam.

he put on a rabbit mask, and wore some bright clothes, pastels, things he knew egghead wore. the rabbit mask was just what he had on hand, something he got while still in middle school.

the heist went horribly. batman showed up, and while he was distracted with egghead's upset rant about the bat ruining everything, adam ran. he ran, and he ran, and he ran, and batman apparently didn't bother going after him, because he ended up going home without a hint of the bat or his robin chasing him.

he didn't want the egg. the egg was an extremely valuable, priceless, last of it's kind egg, a piece of art. he had no use for it. he thought about selling it, but he didn't know how, or where to bring it. egghead was in jail. there wasn't anything he could do...

(he stashed the egg in a drawer, wrapped in the same white dress 'anna' wore on the day she fell. it was safe, and began standing as a motivation. finish yourself. finish yourself.)

the media ate up the idea of a rabbit running off with an egg while wearing bright colors. began calling him the 'easter bunny', and then eventually just Easter, since it was catchier. adam watched the media die down, and he fully accepted his title. he liked the idea, and realizing that he needed the gimmick if he was ever gonna get the money he wanted for his surgeries to 'complete' himself, began thinking more about what he needed to fully realize his new identity.

he began thinking about this new midpoint between 'anna' and 'adam' as 'easter'. easter was the point between what he had to be and what he wanted to be. easter would still be called adam during the day, but adam couldn't bring himself to actually count as that version of him.

he began playing with some ideas. he carried baskets with him when he stole things, and the best thing he did for himself was formulate his spring-heeled shoes, though the design was stolen off the internet. his boss let him borrow some tools from the shop, under the excuse that he needed to fix his bike up, and he made something that would help him with his escapes and break ins.

he isn't popular yet, but a few higher ranking rogues have borrowed him for a some tasks, including two jobs with the joker (one job to break into a judge's house and steal some family photos, and the other job to break back into the judge's house and replace the family photos, only now they had mustaches painted onto all of his family members. adam was payed in hollowed out carrots full of bills.) he's working on it. the rise in fame is a slow one.

and once he's complete, he's going to return the egg. thats a promise.

-

adam serves as a lackey for hire, specializing in in-and-out thievery and quick escapes, though he doesn't seem to care too much about the 'thrill' of it all. he has a hard time thinking of plans for hisself, and has an even harder time communicating, though if someone sets him on a task, he'll do whatever he can to continue it, even if he gets hurt.

he doesn't have much weaponry, throwing punches or using explosive eggs made specifically for opening safes if pushed, but he prefers to run from confrontation.

he lives in the wayne garden apartments, and does bike delivery for a delivery company during the day... though he's recently figured out that said company was owned by one warren white, who uses it as a way to transport the smaller goods he promises to his clients.

-

eventually adam is caught, not in some big blaze of glory, but confronted in his own apartment by the bat. even faced out of costume, adam still attempts to crawl out of his fourth-story apartment window, unable to figure out why the batman was able to figure out who he was... even though he hadn't really been hiding it so well.

he has a fairly long stint in arkham for endangerment of the self, where he ends up able to get the surgeries he needs for his dysphoria, though it's not as cut-and-dry as he thought it'd be. he'd bet on the surgeries giving him the epiphany of who 'adam' really was, but it wasn't as easy as that, so he still struggles with who he is...

the identity of 'easter' hasn't died yet, and adam often falls back on it when he feels unsure of himself, though after a good deal of therapy he's much less likely to recklessly throw himself off of rooftops... which is a great improvement, if you ask dr arkham.

post-surgery, adam still does heists for egg-themed objects for himself and some lackey work for others, trying to find some sort of balance between the life he'd lived up to that point and a future life.

-

the robin he most often goes up against is tim, though they fight less than they race, with maybe a little bit of teasing from easter’s side. it’s probably the only time he thinks its really fun to run