#while the dead remain and the dying disappear and are vanishing; vanishing

[smaller-comfort]

-alphabet by Inger Christensen, translated by Susanna Nied

Translator's Note: The length of each section of Inger Christensen's alphabet is based on Fibonacci's sequence, a mathematical sequence beginning 0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21..., in which each number is the sum of the two previous numbers.

1 [a] apricot trees - 2 [b] bracken - 3 [c] cicadas - 4 [d] doves - 5 [e] early fall - 6 [f] fisherbird herons - 7 [g] given limits - 8 [h] whisperings exist - 9 [9] ice ages

[crimxonwrites]

Blood-painted kisses | Aemond Targaryen x female!OC | Chapter 7 ❝The Edge of the Storm❞

☽➛ Summary: Nothing satietes Maehrys Velaryon's hunger as well as revenge. Growing up at the Red Keep as the bastard of Rhaenyra Targaryen did not come trouble-free. Her childhood consisted of bitter words and repulsive looks from nearly everybody in the castle. As she grew older, Maehrys grew meaner. Once the Velaryons return to King's Landing to defend Luke's claim as Lord of Driftmark, Maehrys decides that it is time for the people who hurt her in the past to pay.

☽➛ Warnings: swearing, bullying, mentions of blood, overall 18+!!!!

☽➛ Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x female!OC ( enemies to lovers to enemies to lovers again?? romance is a subplot)

Masterlist

Chapter 8

As Cannibal approaches Dragonstone, two figures and their dragons stand waiting before the castle gates: my mother, Rhaenyra, and Daemon. Their dragons, Syrax, and Caraxes, cast long shadows in the early dawn light. An anxious knot tightens in my stomach as Cannibal lands, a bit too close for comfort. The unpredictable nature of my dragon, combined with the uncertain reactions of the other dragons and my family, fills me with worry. Cannibal remains a mystery to me—a wild and terrifying creature.

Sliding off his wing is easier than my first attempt, though the ground beneath my feet reminds me of my recent trials; the pain of nearly dying three times in one night still lingers in my bones. As the first rays of dawn break, I keep my eyes on Cannibal, not daring to turn my back on him. His wings fold against his sides, their dark colour seemingly absorbing the morning light. I notice the shreds on his wings, similar to Vhagar’s, and I wonder how he got them. Does Cannibal fight other dragons when he gets hungry? I thought he fed on dead dragon’s carcasses and unhatched eggs. His head moves from left to right, studying the other dragons in silence. His horns, like two sharp towers of obsidian, stick out from his head.

"Maehrys," my mother's voice calls, making me finally face my family.

"The Cannibal, the wild beast," Daemon says, as Cannibal growls, shaking the ground beneath us. "Well done, Princess."

"How?" my mother asks, her tone a mix of curiosity and concern.

"It's a rather disturbing story," I admit, exhaustion weighing me down. "Don't congratulate me, your Grace. Cannibal claimed me." I meet Daemon's eyes as I speak.

Rhaenyra and Daemon share a worried look, while Syrax, my mother’s dragon, stares at the fierce dragon now under my control. From afar, Caraxes screeches, and Cannibal growls again. I wonder if they like each other.

"Alisha told me you left in the middle of the night with the iron chest that held your dragon eggs," my mother steps closer, her voice tinged with worry. "Did they hatch?" she asks.

"Yes," I reply, the truth stark and painful. "But Cannibal was starving."

"You fed your hatchlings to him?" Daemon, pointing towards the beast behind me and I cannot decipher the look on his face; shocked, disturbed, impressed?

"Look at him! Does Your Grace think I had a choice?" I snap, my patience wearing thin. Striding towards the castle entrance, I add, "I brought you a war dragon, Mother." With a final pat on her shoulder, I continue on my way, the weight of my night's ordeal pressing heavily upon me.

A gust of wind sweeps across my skin as Cannibal's massive wings beat powerfully, propelling him into the sky. I turn, my eyes following his dark silhouette as he ascends, disappearing behind the thick clouds. My mother and Daemon stand below, their gazes fixed on the heavens, watching the wild dragon vanish.

As I make my way up to my chamber, a heavy fog of guilt settles over my mind, seeping into every corner of my thoughts. A few nights ago, my mother made fateful decisions: she sent Jace to Winterfell to secure an alliance with Lord Cregan Stark and dispatched Luke to Storm’s End as a messenger. She chose them because they had dragons—trusted, bonded dragons. My stomach churns, and my body feels weighed down by regret. If only I had acted faster, if only Cannibal had found me sooner... I could have been the one to go. I should have been the one at Storm’s End, not Luke. The thought gnaws at me, a relentless torment.

Each step feels heavier than the last as I climb towards my chamber. The guilt is a tangible presence, pressing down on my shoulders, making every movement a struggle. My mind replays the events endlessly—my hesitation, the lost moments, the chance I failed to seize. I see Luke’s eager face, his determination, his trust in me as his elder sibling. The image of him flying off into the stormy sky haunts me, a constant reminder of my failure.

I should have fucking killed Aemond when I had the chance.

Suddenly, another memory crashes into my consciousness, striking like a dagger to the heart—Aemond's kisses, searing and forbidden. The taste of his lips, the warmth of his breath, the intensity of his gaze—all flash before my eyes with startling clarity. My heart skips a beat, and a shiver runs down my spine. The forbidden nature of our secret moments, the betrayal they represent, weighs heavily on my soul. The guilt is almost too much to bear, a relentless, crushing force.

I reach my chamber and close the door behind me, leaning against it as if to keep the world at bay. Helplessness creeps into my heart, a dark, insidious presence that saps my strength. The room is cold and dim, the first light of dawn casting long shadows that dance across the walls. I move to the window, staring out at the vast expanse of sky where Cannibal vanished. The horizon is tinged with the pinks and golds of sunrise, a stark contrast to the turmoil within me.

I clasp my hands together, fingers trembling. The weight of my choices, the burden of my inaction, presses down on me. I am at the mercy of my guilt, a prisoner of my own making. The dawn breaks, but for me, the darkness remains.

Later, I am awakened by Alisha’s gentle voice. I only got to sleep just a little bit, as I look out the window and notice the sun has barely begun to set.

“Your mother has asked to join her at the council table.” She announces. Dazed and confused, I leave my comfortable bed.

I get ready quite swiftly with her help, and when I am seated at my vanity mirror, Alisha is braiding my hair.

“I saw your dragon fly by this afternoon.” Alisha speaks. “He is quite the beast.”

“He is.” I affirm, looking at myself in the mirror, heavy bags rest under my eyes.

“I heard whispers that he ate your hatchlings.” She adds.

“He did.” I affirm again and I look at Alisha through the mirror’s reflection. She looks happy, and I try to smile, but my heart aches too much.

I can sense that she wants me to share the good news, but I cannot. My mind is troubled by the events that happened yesterday with Aemond, and my heart still aches for my brother. I feel isolated.

The council chamber is dimly lit, the flickering flames from the hearth casting long, shifting shadows across the stone walls. The air is thick with the scent of burning wood and tension. At the head of the table, my mother sits, regal and composed, the weight of her crown apparent in the solemnity of her gaze. Beside her, Rhaenys, Corlys, and Daemon, their expressions guarded, watch me with varying degrees of interest and suspicion. The other lords and council members are seated around them, faces I have seen countless times but whose names I’ve never bothered to remember. Their eyes are all on me, their scrutiny palpable.

I am seated at the far end of the table, feeling the distance between us both physically and metaphorically. The table, heavy and imposing, feels like a chasm separating me from their trust. The fire beneath the table offers little warmth, and I am acutely aware of every breath, every heartbeat, as I await their judgment.

“You have tamed the Cannibal,” Ser Robert Quince speaks, breaking the silence. His voice is calm, measured, but there is a hint of disbelief in his tone. I recognize him—he is the castellan of Dragonstone, the man who knows more about dragons than anyone else in this room.

“I did not,” I correct him, my voice steady despite the turmoil within. The words taste bitter on my tongue, a reminder of the blood I have spilled.

“The princess fed her three hatchlings to the Cannibal,” Daemon interjects, his tone laced with a mix of approval and something darker, something that makes my skin crawl.

A murmur ripples through the room, a mixture of shock and disgust. I feel their judgment in every whispered word, every sideways glance.

“Your Grace, if you don’t mind, I would like to hear the princess’ story,” Ser Quince says, his voice cutting through the murmurs as he shifts his gaze from Daemon to me. His eyes are piercing, demanding honesty, and for a moment, I feel a flicker of respect for the man.

All eyes turn to me, and the weight of their expectations settles on my shoulders like a physical burden. The pressure is suffocating, the need to explain myself, to justify the horrors I have committed, gnaws at my insides. The silence stretches, each second an eternity. Panic flares in my chest, and I instinctively look to my mother, seeking reassurance in her calm demeanour. Her gaze meets mine, and though she gives nothing away, I can see the faintest flicker of concern in her eyes. It’s enough to keep me anchored, to prevent the rising tide of anxiety from sweeping me away.

But as I prepare to speak, the weight of last night’s actions presses down on me, a suffocating reminder of what I have done. The kiss I shared with my uncle, the life-threatening fight we had, the regret in Aemond’s eyes—it all comes rushing back, threatening to overwhelm me.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself, to find the words that might make them understand. But as I look around the room, at the faces waiting for my confession, I realize that no explanation will ever be enough. They want to hear about my dragon, but they will never truly grasp the choices I had to make, the sacrifices I had to endure.

Still, I must try.

"My decision to feed the hatchlings to Cannibal was not one made lightly," I begin, my voice trembling slightly but growing stronger with each word. The truth is, I did not mean to kiss the kin slayer. It’s what I wanted to say, what I needed to confess. "It was a choice born out of necessity, of survival. Cannibal is not a dragon that can be tamed by ordinary means." My words are measured, careful, each one a shield against the turmoil inside me. I did not understand why I reciprocated the kiss. "He is a beast of wrath and hunger, and to control him, I had to show him my strength, my willingness to do whatever it takes. The hatchlings... they were a sacrifice, a necessary evil to secure Cannibal's loyalty." I do not know why I liked his lips on mine so much, and why the taste of Aemond lingers in my mind.

As I speak, the memory of that kiss, fiery and desperate, rises unbidden. It was a moment of weakness, of raw emotion, and yet it consumes me. Just as I had to face the darkness within to master Cannibal, I had to confront the storm that raged between Aemond and me. The kiss was not planned, not wanted—at least not consciously—but in the heat of the moment, it felt inevitable, like two forces colliding with devastating intensity.

But just as with the dragon, I was drawn into that fire, helpless to resist its pull. I remember the way his hands gripped me, not in violence, but in a twisted kind of need. The way our lips met with an urgency that felt like drowning and breathing at once. It was wrong, it was madness, and yet...

My voice wavers as I finish my explanation, the words catching in my throat as the memory of Aemond’s kiss lingers like a wound. “The hatchlings were a necessary evil,” I repeat, more to myself than anyone else, as if saying it aloud could absolve me of both sins—the sacrifice and the kiss.

But deep down, I know that no amount of justification can cleanse me of the fire that still burns in my veins, ignited by his touch. And as the council murmurs in response to my words, I realize that I cannot dwell on this now. There are greater battles ahead, and the luxury of guilt is not one I can afford.

“So,” Rhaenys begins with a wry smile, “What are we going to feed him? Dragons?” Her jest cuts through the tension in the room, drawing a few quiet laughs. Even my mother, her heart heavy with grief, manages a faint smile, though it’s a fragile mask over her pain.

I watch her, trying to understand how she copes with loss, how she carries the weight of grief and still stands tall. I don’t even know how to cope with the loss of my brother, and the thought of losing a child as young as Luke is unimaginable.

“The better question is…” One of the lords begins, his voice hesitant but determined. “When are we going to send the Cannibal to slay Vhagar?” His words hang in the air like a challenge, and I see my mother’s composure crack as she violently shakes her head.

“We shall not. I shall not,” she declares, her voice rising, betraying the storm of emotions she battles to keep in check.

“The Cannibal is the strongest weapon we have,” the lord presses, his audacity surprising me. Where does he find the nerve to speak to his Queen with such boldness?

“I shall not send my daughter to such a cruel fate. The Cannibal is a wild dragon, not a war dragon,” Rhaenyra replies, her voice laced with a mother’s fierce protectiveness.

“If I may, your Grace,” Robert Quince intervenes, his tone more measured. “We can train Cannibal, and the Princess. He is wild, yes, but he is also ancient. I do not doubt that he has experience in combat, and we could make use of him. As a last resort.”

My mother’s gaze shifts to me, her eyes mirroring the same panic and anxiety I felt earlier. She wants me to say no, to refuse this path of danger and vengeance. She is terrified of losing another child to the Greens’ cruelty. But as I recall the petrified look on Aemond’s face last night, the memory of Cannibal’s arrival fills me with a dark satisfaction. The fear in Aemond’s eyes, the shock—it was intoxicating, a rush of power I’ve never felt before.

“I will need a very large saddle,” I finally say, breaking the silence. My mother’s head shakes again, disbelief and dread mingling in her expression.

“Meeting adjourned,” she sighs, her voice heavy with defeat.

As the council members begin to disperse, I remain seated, lost in thought. The decision I’ve made feels like a step toward something irreversible, a path that will either lead to my revenge or my downfall. The room clears out, leaving only the crackling fire and the echoes of our discussion. Daemon and Rhaenyra remain seated as well, starting a fiery exchange of whispers, about me and my dragon, no doubt.

Just as I rise to leave, the chamber doors swing open, and Alisha rushes in, her face pale and drawn. She kneels before my mother, clutching a sealed letter in her trembling hands.

“Your Grace,” she says, breathless, “it’s for you, from King’s Landing.” She turns to me and hands me the letter.

My mind starts to wonder in many different directions. Has Alicent decided to request a betrothal between Aemond and I? Does she have that kind of courage, especially now when he has slain my brother? Has she written to apologize?

With shaking hands, I open the letter and hold my breath.

“To My Niece, Maehrys,

Do you remember when we first met? How quickly we became enemies?

Writing to you feels like a betrayal of everything I stand for, yet I cannot silence the thoughts that have plagued me since last night. It sickens me to admit that you’ve found a place in my mind—a place you have no right to occupy, and yet, you do. I hate that I’m writing to you. I hate even more that I feel compelled to.

You are the villain in my story, Maehrys. Your bastard bloodline is the reason for this war, the reason for all this death and suffering. I should despise you entirely, and I do. But it’s not that simple, is it? Because despite the hatred that courses through my veins whenever I think of your family, there’s something else—something I can’t quite shake, no matter how hard I try.

And yet, despite every ounce of hatred I hold for you, I cannot banish the memory of those moments from my mind. It enrages me, this pull I feel toward you, this vile attraction that defies all reason. How dare you invade my thoughts, twist my desires, and make me question everything I have sworn to uphold? You are nothing but a traitor’s spawn, a tool of our enemies, and yet… yet you haunt me like a curse.

I hate that I feel this way, Maehrys. I hate that I’m torn between my duty to my family, and this twisted connection between us. I’ve been taught my entire life to see you and yours as the enemy, to destroy anything that threatens the Greens. And yet, when I think of you, I’m filled with a conflict I never anticipated.

You are everything I should loathe—a symbol of the war, of the bloodshed, of everything that has been torn apart. But you are also something else, something I can’t quite define. And that infuriates me. I want to hate you entirely. I want to see you as nothing more than the daughter of the woman who seeks to take what is rightfully ours. But there’s a part of me, buried deep, that can’t let go of what we shared, however brief, however wrong it was.

I don’t know what to make of this, Maehrys. I don’t know how to reconcile these feelings with the man I’ve always believed myself to be. But I do know this: I will not let these emotions cloud my judgment. My loyalty is to my family, to my cause, and I will not waver in that. But as much as I want to forget, I can’t. You’ve left your mark on me, and I despise you for it as much as I despise myself.

This war will end, one way or another. When that time comes, I don’t know where we’ll stand, or what will be left of these feelings. But for now, I’m caught between hatred and something I can’t name—a pull toward you that defies everything I’ve been taught, everything I’ve believed.

If we meet again, I won’t know whether to strike you down or to… I don’t even know. But until then, I’ll keep fighting this war, and the war within myself, knowing that both may tear me apart.

Yours in ways I cannot fully understand,

Aemond”

My heartbeat quickens as I finish reading the letter, a surge of emotions crashing over me like a tidal wave. My chest feels tight, my breath shallow, and I suddenly feel lightheaded. How dare I invade his thoughts? How dare he kiss me? How dare he send me this letter, setting my heart and brain at war with one another? How dare he make my soul twitch and convulse in this unbearable way?

"Your Grace," Alisha's voice cuts through my turmoil, making me jump. I look up from the letter, startled, and find her eyes locked onto mine, filled with worry. The world around me seems to blur as I try to steady my racing thoughts.

"Did you read this?" I whisper, my voice trembling with the hope that my words haven’t reached my mother’s ears. Panic tightens its grip on me, squeezing my chest until I feel I might break under the pressure.

"You kissed Aemond?" Alisha’s whisper is sharp, laced with accusation. The weight of her words sends a chill down my spine.

My eyes widen in horror as I meet her gaze. Panic floods my body, a cold sweat breaking out on my skin. Her expression hardens, shifting from concern to judgment, and I can’t bear the intensity of her stare. Shame crashes into me like a wave, pulling me under, and I quickly avert my gaze, my heart pounding painfully in my chest.

"You are dismissed for today," I say swiftly, my voice barely above a whisper. "Take tomorrow off too." Alisha huffs in response, leaving with a scoff that echoes in my ears like a slap. The sound of the council chamber doors slamming shut behind her reverberates through the room, amplifying the silence that follows. I can’t bring myself to look at my mother and Daemon, the weight of their unspoken questions pressing down on me like a boulder.

"Jace is flying back on the morrow," my mother’s voice finally breaks the silence, mercifully not mentioning the letter. "He will aid you in your dragon training, I think."

Grateful for the reprieve, I quickly shove the letter into my leg grater, next to my dagger. The cold steel against my thigh is a reminder of the choices I’ve made, the path I’m on. "Will he arrive with good news?" I ask, desperate to focus on anything other than the storm raging inside me.

"I hope so," she replies, and I finally gather the courage to meet her gaze. Her eyes are soft, filled with a pain that mirrors my own. "We will hold Lucerys’ funeral tomorrow."

"Very well," I say, standing abruptly, eager to escape the suffocating tension in the room.

"I love you, Maehrys," my mother’s voice trembles, the words heavy with emotion.

"I love you too," I reply, my voice thick with unshed tears. I sniff, fighting to keep my composure, and then turn on my heel, fleeing the council chamber before my resolve crumbles.

As I walk away from the council chamber, the echo of the heavy doors closing behind me feels like a sentence sealing my fate. The letter tucked against my thigh feels like a secret flame, burning with intensity I can barely contain. My steps quicken as I make my way through the winding corridors of Dragonstone, my mind a whirlwind of confusion, anger, and something far darker.

The distant roar of Cannibal pulls me from my thoughts, a sound that sends a shiver down my spine. He is out there, somewhere in the skies, a beast of legend—untameable, unpredictable, and now bound to me through blood and fire. I should feel victorious, perhaps even proud, but instead, all I feel is the weight of everything I have lost and everything I stand to lose. Lucerys, my sweet, innocent brother, gone to the whims of fate and the cruelty of war. And now this—whatever this is between Aemond and me, a poisonous thread weaving through the fabric of our destinies.

I take the stone steps two at a time, desperate to reach the solitude of my chambers. The halls blur around me as the ache in my chest grows sharper with each passing moment. When I finally reach my room, I slam the door shut behind me, leaning against it as I try to steady my breathing. The walls feel too close, the air too thin. Every breath is a struggle.

I pace the length of the room, my hands clenched into fists at my sides. His words churn in my mind, a poison I can't seem to rid myself of. Every breath I take feels like I'm drawing in the remnants of his presence, that arrogant smirk, the way he looms in my thoughts as though he's burrowed his way into the very fabric of my soul. I should be planning my next move, strategizing how to bring him down—but instead, I'm fixated on him.

In between these thoughts, I close my eyes, willing the chaotic storm inside me to calm, but the memory of his letter lingers, as does the ghost of his kiss. I hate him. I should hate him. And yet, I can’t deny the twisted thrill that courses through me when I think of him—the way his eye darkened with something more than hatred, the way our lips met like a clash of swords.

But that’s the problem, isn’t it? I don’t just want to strike him down—I want to understand him. And I loathe myself for it.

I pull the crumpled letter from my pocket for what must be the hundredth time. The edges are worn now, the ink slightly smudged from where my fingers have repeatedly traced the words. As I unfold it, my eyes scan the lines, searching for something I’ve missed, some hidden meaning or lie, some trick meant to twist the knife deeper into my back. But it remains maddeningly the same—an enigma wrapped in promises and contradictions.

Do you remember when we first met? How quickly we became enemies? the letter begins.

Of course, I remember. How could I not? It was a dark time, our shared childhood at the Red Keep. It was a dance of hatred from the start, a venomous game of wills. But now, he dares to speak of it as if it were something else—as if it were the beginning of some dark, twisted connection. His words speak of regret, of a bond that transcends our enmity, but I can’t help but doubt every line, every sentiment. Does he mean any of it? Or is this just another one of his manipulations, another way to get under my skin?

I want to throw the letter into the fire, to watch it burn and erase his words from my mind. But I cannot. I hold on to it, my fingers tightening around the paper as I try to make sense of the torrent of emotions swirling within me. The letter speaks of things unsaid; things left between the lines. It’s not just an apology, not just an admission of our shared darkness—it’s an invitation. An invitation to what, though, I don’t know.

Am I supposed to believe him? Am I supposed to care?

I shake my head, forcing myself to remain detached, to keep a clear head. But it’s impossible. Every time I look at his words, I feel the confusion creeping in, the uncertainty of whether I’m reading them with a clear mind or through the lens of the feelings I refuse to acknowledge. It’s as though there’s a part of me that wants to believe him, wants to understand him, even though I know I shouldn’t.

And that scares me more than anything else.

I toss the letter onto the table, unable to stomach reading it any longer. Yet even as it lies there, taunting me with its presence, I can’t deny the pull it has on me. I can’t stop thinking about him. About the kiss that still lingers on my lips like a curse, about the look in his eyes when he spoke those final words.

There’s a part of me that wants to hate him completely, that wants to purge him from my thoughts entirely. But then there’s another part, the part that thrills at the game we play, the part that doesn’t just want to destroy him—it wants to unravel him.

And I despise myself for it.

I let out a frustrated breath, running a hand through my hair. This should be simple. He’s my enemy. He’s always been my enemy. But nothing feels simple anymore.

And the worst part is, I’m not sure if I want it to be.

With a frustrated groan, I push away from the door and stalk toward the window. The sun has almost set, casting long shadows across the room. The sky is tinged with deep purples and reds, and somewhere out there, Cannibal is prowling the skies, a living reminder of the line I have crossed.

I turn towards the table and reach for the letter once again. The parchment feels heavy in my hands, and I scan Aemond’s words again, each line a dagger to my heart. How dare you invade my thoughts? he had written. I shake my head bitterly, wondering the same. How could he think I wouldn’t?

Tearing my gaze away from the letter, I fold it carefully and place it back into its hiding place, where it feels safer, buried next to the cold steel. No one can know. Not my mother. Not Daemon. Not even Jace.

A loud knock at the door startles me. I turn, gripping the back of a chair as though I can anchor myself to something solid. The door creaks open, and a familiar figure steps inside.

Daemon. His silver hair gleams in the dim light of the room, and his expression is unreadable—calm, but there’s always something lurking beneath the surface with him. He closes the door behind him softly and regards me with narrowed eyes.

“What troubles you, Maehrys?” His voice is low, probing.

I shake my head, forcing a smile that doesn’t reach my eyes. “Nothing I can’t handle, Your Grace.”

He doesn’t seem convinced, stepping closer. His gaze sharpens, scanning my face, searching for the cracks in my facade. I stiffen under his scrutiny.

“Don’t lie to me,” he says, his voice taking on a dangerous edge. “I see the storm in your eyes. You’re battling something, and I want to know what.”

For a long moment, I say nothing, my mind racing with all the things I cannot say. I glance toward the window, the dying light of day casting a long shadow between us. “This war,” I say, finally breaking the silence. “It demands more of us than we were ever prepared to give.”

His eyes darken at my words, and he crosses the room to stand beside me, gazing out at the horizon. “War is a cruel master,” he says. “It twists us into shapes we no longer recognize. It demands sacrifices.”

I close my eyes, swallowing the lump in my throat. “And if those sacrifices leave us hollow inside? What then?”

Daemon’s hand falls on my shoulder, a rare gesture of comfort from a man who so rarely gives it. His voice softens, though there is an edge of steel beneath. “Then we fight on, Maehrys. We use that hollow place as fuel. We make it burn.”

I nod, though his words do little to soothe the turmoil inside me. As Daemon turns to leave, I catch sight of his reflection in the mirror—he is still a warrior, still a man who thrives in the fire of battle. I wonder if I am the same. Or if I am something else entirely.

When the door closes behind him, I let out a long breath, the tension in my body easing just slightly. The letter still presses against my skin, a silent reminder of the choices I have made and the ones I am yet to face.

Tomorrow, Luke will be laid to rest. And after that? Cannibal and I will face the skies again. The weight of vengeance presses heavily on my chest, a promise yet to be fulfilled.

And somewhere, in the distance, Aemond waits—whether for battle or for something else entirely, I cannot say.

But soon, I will find out.

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[krethes]

(Continuing my efforts to break out of my writer's block...sad Remus & Lily content)

It's hard, seeing someone you love—the first person you ever loved—in pain. He wasn't used to it, not like Lily was. She saw him in misery every month, visited him in the Hospital Wing with a sack of sweets and a thermos of heavily honeyed tea for his scream-raw throat. But Lily never let her hurt show, not when Snape betrayed her confidence, not when people called her names, not when Death Eaters fired off lethal curses around her. 

But she's in his arms now, broken, sobbing. It's not quiet. It's loud and gasping and a deep, unending pain, and Remus knows it. Knows it so keenly, he can barely stand to be here with her. But he must. He will. No one can bear this alone. Remus had Sirius. Lily normally has James. But they're on a Mission, and even the news of his wife's mother dying was not reason enough for Dumbledore to bring James home early. 

What a load of shit. 

Remus has long since started to see the heartlessness behind their general. Perhaps it's necessary. Perhaps it's what they need to do to win against a ruthless, genocidal maniac. Or perhaps he's just too focused on the mechanics and not the cogs making it run. 

His shirt is soaked with salty tears, and Remus would do anything to lessen her pain. He gathers Lily closer, kisses the top of her head, her forehead, her cheeks, and briefly, chastely, her lips. She tastes like salty tears, too. It's not sexual. It's just…comfort. She sighs against his mouth and buries her face into his neck after a few seconds, crying silently now save for a hiccup or two. 

Remus rubs her back in soothing circles, though it seems pointless. He can't do anything to help. A cheering charm would only force laughter and a smile, but her heart would still be breaking behind it, a hollow, jagged mockery of the true emotion. 

"What am I supposed to do?" she whispers when the sun has gone down and the moon rises, fat and heavy in the sky. It's not full, but close, and Remus hopes Sirius will make it back before then. Make it back at all. Lily's voice is frail and torn, hoarse from her crying. Her scent is sour, misery and anguish and fear, but Remus doesn't shy away from it, overwhelming as it is. 

"I don't really have an answer for you, love," Remus admits. His mother died a few months ago and he still wakes up with wet, tear-streaked cheeks. He still thinks about visiting her in Dover, but remembers she's buried in the neighboring town as he's pulling on his coat. And his dad, well…he's fucked off to Merlin knows where. Left behind an absolute mess in the house, vanished into thin air. Maybe he's dead, like Lily's dad. Maybe he's just trying to disappear. Remus wants to, sometimes. Just get up and run and run, outrun the horrors that plague him.

They've lost so much this year. Friends, family, sleep, innocence. Remus has committed sins he can't even tell Sirius about, and the knowledge of that haunts him like a ghost. 

Lily is quiet for a long time, but Remus senses she has something she wants to say. "Your dad…" She clears her throat and looks up at Remus, her fair eyelashes clumped together, cheeks wet. "His library, he-"

"Lily." Remus cuts her off with a sharp shake of his head. "No, it's not-"

"It's not fair! I don't- I won't…I wouldn't do anything, I just… I just want to know if it's possible."

Remus sighs and rests his chin on her head. "It's possible." He'd read through everything. The loose leaves of parchment scattered around his dad's library that spoke of reanimation, resurrection. Necromancy. The theory was sound. Remus immediately checked that his mother's remains were still undisturbed after, and was relieved that his dad hadn't gone through with it. Or hadn't yet. 

"Can I just-" Lily bites her lower lip and pulls back to look up at him again. "Please? I just… to pretend. Just for a little while. That I could…that she could be here."

Remus closes his eyes, fighting the drowning pull of her grief. He's never been good at saying no to her, and has been even more rubbish at denying the allure of the darker magics. They both share that, the appreciation for the mysterious, the forbidden. Maybe it's how they were raised. Maybe it's the dark creature in Remus. Who's to say. 

"... Alright. Get your coat. I'll show you everything."

[upsidedowngrass]

ok, since i havent had the energy to really post latwly, ill share one of my most specific hcs/interpretations that ive had for one for a long while:

the kill command... doesnt really kill the characters? it just teleports them to the waiting room (which, admittedly, i dont think has a LOCATION despite it BEING a location, if that makes any sense?

this stems from the fact that we KNOW corpses remain when a character dies. with liams cast at the bottom of the pool, whippy creamy finding charlotte, etc, thid is clear. so in a sense, when a character is in the waiting room, theyre there, but their body is left behind. even when theyre teleported back, it seems their actual body is teleported with them. sorta like their consciousness and body are teleported seperately but still at the same time

when a character is teleported to the plane, though, everything about them comes with them, as very easily shown. characters just disappear

this is important, because when texty uses the kill command to take the three of them out of stones world, we see that their bodies disappear, too. they arent dying, theyre being teleported TO the waiting room

i think its less clear if a characters body is teleported with them when they use the radio. if it were common, in the normal world, bodies would just sometimes Disappear, but then again, it isnt made clear just how common it is for people TO use the radio (its implied to be at LEAST very very uncommon, with only 2-3 characters ever being shown to use it, and if the crowd liam sees is an indication of the average amount of dead people each day, then it may be exceedingly rare. this, though, isnt super concrete so ill leave it on the back burner. maybe ill look at it another time) so maybe its not a large enough amount of corpses vanishing for people to notice. hence why im less clear about this. (airys lid? thing? IS still left behind when liam finds him. this could mean he didnt use the radio if we assume the radio teleports a While character, but once again, this is way more ambiguous)

this also leads to a related hc/interpretation, that the the computer ONLY teleports people, NOT other objects, even if they are held. we see this with taylor and her phone, but that could be brushed of if the kill command was viewed as separate from teleportation. bryce drops the flashlight when he teleports though. the only outliers for this, i think, is that liam keeps the sticky notes(+flashlight, apparently) AND is able to keep a hold on texty when using the command AND dying. the way ive looked at it for a long time, though, is that items Inside an object come with them, and the laptop something of functions as textys house AND body, kinda like a turtle

when theyre teleported to the plane, its noticeable that textys computer doesnt come with them. honestly idrk how to explain this one. the way i see it though, i guess, is that airy SPECIFICALLY teleported textys Text, so their laptop stayed behind. when they used the kill command, their text was teleported, but since liam wasnt holding onto just an object but like. a Person who was Also being teleported, the laptop came too. That, or the waiting room is just weird about textys laptop and functions differently with it than what either existing on earth with it or being teleported to the plane entails

abyway, the point of this being: the kill command is just a fancy teleporting function (which i feel like DOES explain why airy just had it lyint around, since he never actively chooses to kill a contestant, and he wouldve had to learn about them separately if they WERE different. he calls regenerating respawning deliberately, so it could be smth similar) and it does NOT teleport random items unless they are contained inside the object being teleported

[roxenworks]

Worse Than Dying

TW// Whumpee is a hater, public humiliation, stabbing, military whump (barely even there), nonhuman whumpee, nonhuman whumper, lady whumper, kidnapping, erm ask if I should add more

Dante was currently having an awful day. He was currently in the depths of hell, on a mission. He had worked so hard so that this wouldn't happen. Dante had “convinced” a Warlord to place him as a prison guard for reapers. Reapers that practically laid around doing nothing.

War was indeed such a horrible thing. Especially when your side wasn't doing well. Reapers themselves were generally harmless. They collected the souls of the dead and sent them to the Overworld or Underworld. That wasn't as vital as their ability to travel between The 6 Planes. They could be anywhere anytime, and they were secretive too. As such, the Crowns and the Warlords decided they were too dangerous to keep around without supervision.

Demons having kept around Reapers as workers opposed this, and vehemently fought them. The war since then had been a mess for the Overworld, the Red Crown's disappearance, the losing fights between the Heirs and Warlords, and even several angels vanishing as well…Dante just hoped he wouldn't be the next missing person.

The Underworld was a perilous place, the ground red and dry, and the heat overbearing. Dante was here on the rescue mission, a Warlord had found out where several angels were being kept. If successful, they could have an extra edge in this war. It was an honor to receive this task, and Dante was sure he would come back with his fellow angels in tow.

Now this task was stationed in Wrath's territory, a terrifying demon princess that was one of the main fighters in the war. Which meant she wouldn't be around most of the time. With Dante able to deal with any guards stationed nearby, it was as simple as not setting off any alarms.

The thing is, Dante did not take up this task by choice. He would rather not even be anywhere near here. Unfortunately, this was a direct order from a Warlord, his Warlord. Meaning there was no way to refuse. He just had to find where the angels were being held.

Dante walked along, he was dressed in traditional white gold, and blue robes with a spear in hand. He had no thought present as to dressing any similar to the demonic scum that lived down here. The spear in his hand was sure to cut down just about anyone who tried to cross him.

It remained unused, the walk was long and there was nothing in sight. There was, however, someone who was following him. Dante had felt a pair of eyes staring at him from a while ago. It was unnerving and creepy. This mystery person seemed to always stay away, though…maybe they're scared? Not wanting to get killed, but probably going to report to their superiors after…not good.

“Demon! Face me.” Dante unfurled his wings, his wings were an even more emphasized color than his hair. A bright gold, shining even brighter in the grim environment of this place.

“Oh?” In a swirl of black fog, a lady appeared. Brown skin and braided hair that led all the way down to the ground. Wearing some black and red robes that trailed behind her. “What lovely wings.” A fan covered her mouth, showing only aloof eyes.

Dante frowned, they didn't recognize this demon, perhaps she was previously an affluent human? “…Speak your name, demon.” He pointed the tip of the spear at her.

“Speak my name to you, little angel? Naive.” The demon's eyes flashed a bright orange, and a red mist emerged from the fan. “I think you'll make a great gift for my brother.” The fog curled around Dante. His body started feeling heavy like his bones were made from lead. He used the spear to keep himself standing.

Orange. Orange. Fuck. Dante felt his eyes widen, only the Heirs had those orange eyes. Who? There's no way this was Wrath. Wrath used a sword to cut angels down, not a fan and mist. They were brutish and cruel. “You're an Heir, aren't you? Which one of the bastards are you?” He straightened his back in a poor attempt to appear in fighting condition.

“You'll figure it out soon enough.” The woman got closer, and the swirling mist became thicker and thicker. Dante dropped to his knees, gasping as Wrath grabbed his chin and forced his face up. “Such a pretty little thing…you should be glad, an angel like you would sell well. Who knows what would happen to you? Turned into chopped up and fried angel bits.” Wrath licked her lips.

Dante's face paled. They eat angels? He had to get out of here. He blinked, why couldn't he move?

“Are you finally scared now, angel? Don't worry, I'm sure my brother would love a bird to keep around the house.” A grin full of sharp teeth. The hand slowly moved to his hair, grabbing it roughly. “It's quite the trip, I hope you don't mind.” His head wasn't working fast enough to figure out what that meant.

Wrath was dragging him along with her with leisure. Dante couldn't move his body to even attempt to fight back. His wings were simply twitching uselessly. The surrounding terrain eventually changed, becoming a plain road with scattered houses on either side.

The mist's effects waned, but Dante did not have enough trust in his strength to fight against Wrath. He did have the strength to glare at every demon that looked his way. Was this woman actually planning to drag him all the way through their cities?

She was. Dante felt his face burn in shame as they entered one of the metropolis areas, the streets were crowded, and naturally, him being dragged caught a lot of eyes. He hated every whisper, smirk, and leer in his direction. He'd line them up at the Gate of the Overlord and chop their heads off if he could. Dante could vividly imagine how those wretched things would act when their horns were broken and torn off. Tails chopped into bits. Make them beg and plead…

Dante felt his hand twitch, slowly, but surely he was getting his motor control back. He just gritted his teeth and waited. The Warlords would surely tear this place apart, especially if there was no word from him. He would just have to endure.

Enduring was hard when Dante could tell they were heading to a skyscraper, so much human tech here, tasteless. As they got closer and closer, the looks became less bemused and mocking and more intense and cold. These were definitely demons that fought angels. If he landed in their hands…it would not be pretty.

Dante had to wonder about Wrath's brother, how would he react to his presence? Hopefully, he would just be kept in a cell until rescued.

“We're almost there, angel.” Dante winced, the demon was running now. The brick scrapped his knees badly, regeneration be damned. He tested out opening his mouth, good, it worked. Now it was a test of patience, not cursing the vile brute that's been dragging him for god knows how long.

Now Dante was being dragged up the stairs of the skyscraper, finally being let go once they reached the front door. Dante nearly fell down, but his body reacted for him. His wings flapped, and he shot up, Dante headed straight back in the opposite direction of the skyscraper. He'd take the moment of surprise to try to create some distance, then-

Dante gasped, feeling a sudden pain piercing in his stomach. He slowly looked down and saw a grappling hook sticking out of his stomach. He was filled with a sudden sense of foreboding before he was pulled back down to the earth.

If Dante said the impact didn't hurt at all, he would be lying. He just tried to breathe, looking up at the blurry figures above him. Oh, he must have hit his head pretty hard.

“See! I have good taste, don't I Griff?” Wrath giggled, and he tried to focus on the other one, this Griff.

“…Not bad.” The voice was deep and smooth, and if Dante was any more delirious, he'd mistake it as attractive. It sounded like his Warlord. “Let's take him back.”

Wrath giggled and bent down towards his face. He tried to move to get away, but his stomach burned something terrible, so most of his energy was spent trying not to scream. He could only stare as Wrath hovered the open fan over his face.

She smiled widely, showing off rows of razor-sharp teeth, and closed the fan with a snap. Dante felt a force hit his face, and he was out like a light.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Hi Clan!

How are you? It's been a while! :D

I would like to request a Five Nights at Candy's oneshot!

It would be Blind! Old Candy x Gender Neutral! Security Guard! Reader.

Reader has been hired as nightguard in Candy's restaurant, and after a few nights being afraid of dying at the hands of Candy and friends, they meet Old Candy, and while a bit afraid, their fear disappear as they feel bad for the old thing, and helps him with his blindness, becoming friends, which allows to be also friends with Candy and the rest of the animatronics.

Does that sound good? Will you accept my request? If yes, any ideas we could add to the plot?

"Jeez, you look like you’ve seen better days.” You mused at the dark blue cat that showed up on the screen, lingering in the parts and services room.

This was the first time you’re seeing him, and the junior manager warned you that he might start walking around. Plus he said some rather..concerning things about this “Old Candy” hurting an adult in the past.

But he wasn’t an immediate threat, so you ignored him for the time being to check up on the others.

Things were starting to get real tonight, with almost every animatronic being more active than usual. Even the sweet waiter Penguin seemed keen on sabotaging your doors and lights at every chance. The moment you took your eyes off of his location for even a second....he’d sneak in.

Tapping your fingers against the monitor, you looked at the power meter for a moment, sighing as you shut off the night mode and tracked the animatronics via their tiny white lights.

Unfortunately, Old Candy’s eyes didn’t glow like theirs, so you needed to drain the battery to track him better. You noticed he was stumbling about the restaurant, nearly tripping over chairs that weren’t fully pushed-in and the occasional cardboard cutout. Usually the animatronics had good pathfinding AI to help them get around, but for someone as ancient as him...it was probably bugged or outdated.

‘Poor thing..he can barely see..’ You pitied him a little, but moved on to make sure nobody else got inside.

Honestly, you didn’t know what would happen if any of them succeeded. You were only told not to let them in at all costs. At first you thought of a logical reason: so they didn’t damage any equipment.

But given their behaviors, creepy stares, and specific paths...they seemed hellbent on attacking you, too. Maybe because to them, you were an intruder?

It wouldn’t make sense for them not to recognize a nightguard.

Regardless, you had to be careful.

When you checked on Old Candy’s position again, you nearly jumped when he reached CAM 06, staring straight into the office.

You heard a distinct mechanical humming noise, wondering if it’s the power generator working overtime. Though you shut the door so he didn’t barge in, remembering you had to react quicker.

And that’s when things went from bad to worse.

“Can I take your order?”

“Wha--oh jesus christ not you again.” You groaned as Penguin slipped in through the other door, ducking under the table.

Then he opened the same door that Old Candy still lingered by....before the little bastard vanished and left you to your demise. The door controls were jammed, meaning you were completely helpless.

So you remained completely still, holding your breath as he stumbled in, convinced you were 100% dead for sure.

Yet...he seemed confused, not even noticing you sitting there. Instead he was seemingly pawing at the air, that mechanical humming from before growing louder as he looked around.

'Can't he see me at all?' You pondered, watching as he got his hand tangled in the star-shaped decorations.

Instinct told you to get up and run like hell out of here. But you couldn't help but feel bad for the poor old robot.

Maybe you could help him somehow?

‘No. You’ll die if he notices you.’ Your brain tried arguing, though you chose to ignore it as you got up and sighed quietly, tensing when he suddenly stopped struggling. 

He heard you, yet you didn’t care what happened next. ‘Welp..goodbye to the life you once had, [y/n].’

Then you bravely called out his name. “C-Candy?”

He jerked his head towards you, tearing the decoration off the wall and knocking a mug off the table, causing it to shatter. You winced, reminding yourself to clean it up later. “It’s okay. I’m not gonna hurt you. You got..strings tangled in your joints. I can help you get it off.”

Hoping he’d understand your good intent and not kill you, you carefully approached him. He felt your smaller hand gently grasp his paw and he stopped struggling.

You could sense his bleak dark eyes staring at you. The whirring of overheated mechanisms inside his chest cavity were loud against your ear, but you remained focused.

“Good kitty...I’m almost done.” You cooed, pretending this hulking blue piece of machinery was any ordinary house pet. It was all you could do to stop yourself from freaking out.

Once you freed him, you put the decoration on the table with baited breath, anxious that he’ll attack you with your back turned.

Fortunately, he didn’t do anything. And you turned back around and smiled at him. “There. Now..uh-”

Suddenly you heard the 6AM bell, realizing you survived your shift.

'Thank god..’ You breathed a sigh of relief as he left the office without question, but part of you became worried about him tripping over something.

So you followed him. “Candy, wait! Lemme move those chairs.”

Coming to a halt, Old Candy heard the squeaking of chairs as you pushed them back in, clearing the path for him. Once you told him it was okay to keep going, his feet started moving again. And you helped him all the way back to the parts & services room.

Just before he went in, he stopped again and turned around to face you. You tensed up again, unsure of what he was doing as he raised his paw.

But then he just....gently set it on your head?

He patted you roughly, like a dog, before stepping back and entering the room. It seemed to be a small gesture of appreciation.

‘Huh..I guess he likes me now?’ You mused, smiling as you realized you’ll live to see another day. So you clocked out and headed home, knowing you’ll have to come back the next night to repeat the cycle.

At least..until you got paid or murdered.

Yet when you returned, the animatronics seemed a lot less aggressive in their patterns.

Old Candy visited your office again and just stayed there all night, standing by your side like a protecting guard dog (or cat, in this case). Chester remained at his stage and strummed his banjo whenever you checked on him. Penguin brought you actual food from the kitchen--you’re certain it was leftovers but it beats the granola bars you’ve been eating every shift.

Candy and Cindy still prowled around the restaurant, but lacked the hostility they once had and only stopped by the office once in a while. And Blank stopped trying to smash the front window. Instead he would just tap on it and wave to you and Old Candy.

They must have realized you meant no harm, given how friendly you were to Candy’s predecessor. You weren’t sure if he told them or if any of them noticed your kind actions.

But it seems you’ve gained one friend and earned five more.

[sylverstorms]

Cassandra x Maiden----Anonymity

Three months, two days and seven hours.

That is how long you’ve been in Dimitrescu castle for. If rumor is to be believed, you are well on your way to setting the year’s record for longest living maid. Well. ‘Maid’, according to their perception. Your mind always automatically corrects it to something more fitting:

Prisoner.  

You did not choose to work for them. You did not choose to be in this godforsaken place, cleaning crimson stains off the floors, trying to convince yourself the wailing that sometimes reaches your ears is simply the wind. You never would have imagined your life’s end like this, serving wine –no, who are you kidding, it’s too crimson for that— to the Dimitrescus at dinner until one of them snaps and drives the nearest blade into your throat.

Probably Daniela.

It’s not unheard of. And stories of other maids’ murders are plenty.

Daniela has bitten one’s throat off for the crime of addressing her wrongly. Cassandra has left increasingly deep gashes, some of which resulted in deaths, for random offenses, like staring at her for too long. Bela, arguably the more merciful of the three, has snapped necks only when the staff disrespected her sisters’ names, or her mother’s.

You aren’t sure if you want to thank the older maids for this information or yell at them for the nightmares it has caused you. You are lucky to not be in the village, they say –everyone there must already be dead. You are even luckier to have been taken from the dungeon by the Lady herself. It means the daughters don’t know you and the castle is big enough that they may never spare you a glance.

You hadn’t believed it, at first.

Yet in the three months of your stay, you have never come across anyone other than Bela in the sections you were assigned to clean and polish. She passed you by the hallway like she did the decorations and the furniture –and you couldn’t be happier about it. You have caught scarce glimpses of Alcina Dimitrescu, too. Never the other two residents.

Not until the fateful day another maid disappears and the staff’s assigned posts change. You have no say in it and no power to object.

May as well keep my head down and continue to work as carefully as I have. That is the idea. Not to look too much, or think too much, or feel too much. Avoid mistakes because those in the castle are fatal.  

It is a little difficult to remain utterly calm when the sound of swarming insects comes from far behind you, though.

Your blood starts to kick in your veins. Your heart wants to jump out of your chest and make a run for it. You lock your muscles down and summon all the willpower you possess to stay focused on your task.

Please be Bela, please, please, be Bela—

The buzzing dies down. Steps approach you in the otherwise silent hallway. They are too light to be Bela’s. You’re probably screwed, you think, but you keep cleaning the surface in front of you until it’s practically a mirror with how it shines.

The steps halt too close to you for comfort. Out of the corner of your eye, you realize they’ve left bloody imprints on the floor you’ve been polishing for hours now. Dainty, pale fingers are wrapped loosely, almost lazily, around a sickle dripping crimson.    

“Never seen you around, before.” the sound of her voice makes you freeze.

You stop and turn— to face none other than Cassandra Dimitrescu. Her hood is down, brunette waves on point, the dried blood at her chin a terrible contrast to her otherwise attractive face. You… didn’t know she was that pretty, up close.

“I… I have been here for three months. On the opposite wing.” you say. Was I even supposed to reply? You’ll find out soon enough, if your tongue is still attached to your body.

Her eyes give you a quick once-over. “Bela’s been keeping you a secret, huh.” she tsks. Her free hand goes to the handle of the door next to you… and only then do you realize it must be her bedroom. You’re literally assigned to clean the wolf’s den. “Come wake me up when the sun has set, completely.” she emphasizes.

What.

“Uh—”

The crimson-dyed sickle moves until its blade rests underneath your chin, lifting it so your eyes meet hers. From this angle, under the pale lighting of dawn, they look more –stunning— blue than inhuman gold. “No loud sounds. No lights. Got it?”

How can you not, when your life depends on it?

“Yes, my lady.” you reply. You don’t even dare draw breath.

“Good.” In one swift movement, the sickle is gone, the handle turned and she’s already shedding her robe.

You catch a glimpse of a black corset and a narrow waist before you avert your eyes.

The door shuts.

...

Waking Cassandra up can be… tricky, the other maids tell you.

She detests light when she opens her eyes but she also doesn’t want it to be pitch black. You’re not supposed to talk but you can’t shake her, either. Which brings you to the very logical question:

“What the hell am I supposed to do, then?”

To which they have no answer.

They have no answer, you realize with a start… because there’s nobody alive to tell the tale of how to actually wake the brunette sleeping beauty up without simultaneously signing their own death sentence.

The hours pass both too slow and too fast. The sun sets over the horizon.

And you stand, riddled with nerves, outside Cassandra’s room.

A deep inhale later, you turn the handle. The door is left half-open so a bit of light comes in from the hallway. Her bedroom smells like shampoo, bath salts and spices. She must have taken a shower before she went to sleep. You approach the figure tucked under the silken sheets of the queen-sized bed…

Cassandra is lying on her side, one hand underneath her pillow, the other extended loosely towards the edge of the mattress. She probably sleeps naked, at least from the waist up, but thankfully the covers are wrapped around her chest. Their royal red color makes a stark contrast against the paleness of her skin.

Her face is so… serene.

She is a monster and a sadistic killer, yet right there you can’t deny she looks more like a renaissance painting.

Now onto the hard part.

“My lady… the sun has set.” you whisper, kneeled on the floor beside her. No movement comes. “Hey… I’m here to wake you up?” you try again. Still nothing. Shakily, you bring your hand up to the bed. Not daring to touch her, you leave it beside hers, over the covers. “Cassandra?”

She turns her face deeper into her pillow –no, no, you don’t think it’s cute, what’s wrong with you— but at least she’s finally reacting. You call her name one more time.

Her nose scrunches up a little. Long fingers flex –and they touch yours. She’s cold. A pair of blueish ambers blink open to regard you. Not with malice, or with annoyance.

“Good evening.” you speak, unsure of what else to say.

A smirk slowly curves her lips. She looks like a lazy cat pondering whether or not it’s worth it to pounce and that’s not good. It’s not good, not ‘hot’ like your mind suggests. God, you’ve been in this castle so long you are starting to get messed up.

“Mm, breakfast in bed.” she grins and licks her lower lip sexily. Your eyes fly wide open, but her hand is already gripping the front of your black shirt, trapping you there.

How could you ever find this psycho attractive?! you get mad at yourself. Is she hot now that she’s going to kill you?  

But Cassandra only lets out an airy laugh and releases you. You fall backwards on your behind. “Breathe, darling, I’m joking.” She rolls onto her back and seems to wince from it. Her smile vanishes.

“…does… your back hurt?” you ask when you finally find your voice again.

“Ugh, a Lycan landed a hit on me. He’s pieces now, of course, but my muscles still pull.” she says it casually, like it’s a thing that happens.

Silence falls over the room. You take it as your cue to leave. You stand and bow while she’s looking blankly at the ceiling—

But she stops you.

“Wait. Come here.” you don’t like it when she gets that tone, like she came up with something she cannot wait to try. You’re already close to the bed, you’re not sure what she means. Until she pats the spot right next to her. “Don’t make me say it again.”

You won’t. You know what’s good for you.

Hesitantly, you take a seat on the –admittedly very comfortable— mattress. “Yes, lady?”

“Give me a massage.” she says like it’s your job, like she’s the rich woman in a spa and it’s what’s expected. She turns onto her front, bearing her naked back to you and you have less than five seconds to come to terms with the thought of straddling her.

Carefully, you bring your knees on either side of her thighs and pull the sheets so they rest low at her waist. You feel warmer than you should given the temperature of the castle. If she knows the fine teasing line she’s walking, she is loving every inch of it.

Cassandra loves being the center of attention and she loves being pampered, you realize.

It’s probably amusing to her to make you fluster, but this is also an opportunity for you to get on her good graces. She is a dangerous one and it’ll be a great asset for your survival if she’s leaning favorably towards you. Win-win situation. You just have to be good at your job. Like always.

By some miracle of God, you do know how to work the tension out of muscles.

The first time you touch her, you simply rest your hands on her back to warm it. She doesn’t seem to object, from the way lean muscle stretches out under your fingers. Cassandra feels cool, but not hard like marble. Her skin yields under your touch, soft and smooth.

As you apply more pressure to your stokes, she starts to let out little sighs that you have to mute in your mind before they start to affect you. You’ve been high-strung and without sex for too long. Your body all too eagerly intercepts this death-trap as foreplay.

Minutes roll by.

You alternate between all the methods you know. The one that really seems to get her is when you drive your thumb into the knots and end with a little circle.

Cassandra is –God help you— openly moaning every time you press more. It is a bit too much pressure you’re applying though and you don’t know if you’re hurting her and she’s just into it.

“Is this too much…?” you ask. Fuck, why do you sound so breathless?

“No, it’s good.” she husks back.

“Harder?” You don’t know what innocent means, anymore.

Cassandra sends that little smirk again over her shoulder. “Harder.” she replies and the extra flair she puts into it is enough to nearly fry your brain. And other parts of you.

You’re pretty sure you need a cold shower by the time you leave her room.

...

At diner, you hang back in the shadows, gaze downcast.

You do not need to know what the Dimitrescu family is eating, nor what they’re drinking. You do not need to see Cassandra or risk catching Daniela’s gaze. You love your anonymity in the castle. It has kept you alive.

But it is shattered like frail glass when you bring another bottle of Sanguis Virginis to the table. You’ve almost retreated back to your place, when Daniela’s eyes zero in on you.

“She’s the human!” she exclaims like she’s made the world’s most startling discovery. Bela seems to understand, but the Lady and Cassandra frown over their glasses.

“I am almost afraid to ask, love.” Lady Alcina says…

And she’s right.

“The one who made Cassandra go ‘harder’ and ‘yes, yes!�� earlier this evening.” she impersonates in her sluttiest voice and then breaks into a fit of cackles. Bela’s lip twists into a withheld chuckle.

Lady Dimitrescu nearly chokes on her wine.

Cassandra slaps the back of Daniela’s head. “You’re such an idiot.”

“Girls.” Alcina warns and glares until the table calms again.

Then, her eyes curiously fall upon you.

So much for your anonymity.

Ko-Fi

[alexplayssimsnstuff]

Bella Goth Disappearance FINALLY Solved!

Back in the day, I had originally subscribed to the theory that Bella was abducted by aliens that were set on her by the Caliente’s who then murdered her when she returned, and so I went in the game to do a walkthrough as to how I came to that theory. That’s when I found that I WAS WAYYYY OFF, there is a whole ass rabbit-hole here, and like a total Alice, I fell in it.

And, after 16 years of wondering and imagining different scenarios, I finally found out the truth. Turns out, we were ALL wrong, and the truth has been staring at us in the face the whole time.

Just as a warning, this is VERY dark and bleak and depressing. Bella wasn’t dealt a good hand, guys. What happened to her was all sorts of MESSED up.

Just for clarity, I do base this off of events that happen in the official sims storyline, because while the game is ultimately up to us to live life as we like, go ahead and do whatever with your game, there IS a story being told here, but in a way that doesn’t conflict with our own free will. It’s ingenious, really. This goes with the main Sims games released for PC and Mac. However, the console versions do provide a lot of insight to further details and situations. Specifically the Sims 2 for PSP, and the Sims 3 for the Nintendo DS.

 So, first off, it has been verified what happened to her: In 2014, Twitter held an AMA for the SimGurus just before the release of the Sims 4. Someone asked the following question, and SimGuru Sarah responded.

It was later confirmed that Bella Goth of Lunar Lakes IS the Bella Goth of Pleasantview. She does look like the rest of the ghosts there with pale skin and yellow hair and eyes, and with that in mind, you can see for yourself…

That’s her, alright.

Okay, if she died on Lunar Lakes, there are still questions that need answers:

1.       Did she ever go home?

2.       Does her family know what happened to her?

3.       How did she die on Lunar Lakes?

Well, she died of old age, that can be found out easily enough, but I found the answers to the other two: Kinda and no.

 So, just to recap, I’m gonna review Bella’s life as we know it canonically.

Bella was born to Simis and Jocasta Bachelor of Sunset Valley. She grew up the road from her childhood best friend, and later, husband, Mortimer Goth, with her older brother Michael. She always had a sense of the macabre and dark and was known as “the best dressed girl in town.” Even then she wore a red dress. A more child appropriate red dress, but a red dress. She just came from an average suburban family who had a fascination for the not average. She’s still a child, and not a Goth yet. She still goes by the surname Bachelor.

Twenty-five years later, she shows up in the Sims 1 with her childhood best friend and now husband, Mortimer Goth, and they have moved into their own home, and have a daughter, Cassandra. Her in-laws moved out of their home in Sunset Valley and moved into what would later become the Goth House of the Sims 2 in the beginnings of what would be known as Pleasantview. Unless you got her a job, she was a housewife, and she was known to be athletic, elegant, and friendly towards her neighbors. I remember her often being the first to come and say hello to any new Sims I’d move into the neighborhood. Her brother, Michael, is also in town, however, there is no acknowledgement of them being siblings. A family tree system didn’t really exist in the Sims 1, and I’m sure they didn’t even think to make them siblings back then, but the fact remains that they have no relationship at this point in time. The only reason why it’s known that Cornelia and Gunther Goth are Mortimer’s parents is because it straight up says so in the bio. That and their names are the same, but anyway.

So far, things are simple.

That’s because in the 25 years between the Sims 1 and 2, a series of events occurs that really makes things interesting.

Michael joins the science career track. One can assume the reason why he settled into domestic living years after Bella had done so was because he was at grad school. Because he was graduated from grad school, he gets a jumpstart in the career and climbs the latter a lot faster than Mortimer does.

1.       Scientist Sims contribute an invention into the Sims world. Michael’s invention was cloning technology. He cloned himself, and a test subject: Skip Broke.

         a.       Even though he died before it happened, arrangements were made so Brandi could be the next test subject and the first female subject, and when you start Pleasantview for the first time, she is pregnant with her own clone. The baby is always born a boy.

       b.       Michael’s clones have a 100% rate of being male, genetic identicals to those they were cloned from (Brandi’s just being a boy rather than a girl) and so far, a 100% rate of dying at the same time as the original. They are genetically identical, but wear different clothes.

2.       Michael and Bella don’t really have a relationship in their adult lives because Michael leaves Pleasantview early on while Cassandra is still a child and moves to the city.

3.       Mortimer follows after Michael, and invents the age reversal serum. Bella is the first test subject, and, the day of her abduction, she takes the serum until she reverts back to being a brand-new adult. Probably to allow herself to fit in her red dress as strikingly as she does, I don’t think an elderly woman could pull that off.

4.       Cassandra enters private school.

5.       Around this time, Gunther Goth dies. Bella, Mortimer, and Cassandra move out of their home and in with Cornelia to be with her in her last stages of life.

6.       Michael marries Dina Caliente. It is speculated that, because of the age gap, they only marry for Michael’s money. But it is worth noting that Michael was Dina’s first serious relationship and she didn’t begin to cheat on Michael with Don until years later just before Michael died.

7.       Alexander is born.

8.       Shortly after Alexander’s birth, Cornelia dies at the same time Michael does.

9.       Dina inherits Michael’s estate and moves in with Nina. They then move to Pleasantview.

10.   Don follows them and moves the next day.

11.   Bella goes to introduce herself to her new neighbor, Don. They get along, and Don gets the wrong idea and puts the move on Bella. Bella rejects him. He then runs off to go be with Kaylynn and is not there when Bella is abducted by aliens.

12.   Bella is never seen again, but shortly after her abduction, a UFO crashlands in Strangetown, and reports that Bella is in Strangetown start rolling in. But, spoiler alert, that’s not the real Bella.

Then, after Bella’s abduction and before you start Pleasantview for the first time, the following happens:

1.       Mortimer and Dina hit it off rather fast, and marriage is definitely in the picture when the game first starts.

2.       Cassandra, Mortimer, and Alexander all age up on the same day 2 days after Bella disappears.

3.       Cassandra goes to Don’s house to find out what he knows about what happened to Bella (jack squat since he wasn’t there) and that’s where they meet for the first time. Don tries to seduce her, probably not knowing who she is, and Cassandra, as much as you gotta love the girl, is naïve as all hell and thinks she won the jackpot and falls for Don quickly.

4.       Alexander goes to private school

5.       Mortimer retires

6.       Cassandra gets engaged the VERY day the game starts.

That is an important thing to note because people like to speculate that Don had something to do with Bella’s disappearance because he made the moves on her mother and they were engaged and he didn’t want to jeopardize that by Bella opening her yap. This is NOT the case because Cassandra was still a teenager when Bella vanished. Don may be a hoe, but he isn’t a pedo. Chris Hansen doesn’t need to be called for this one.

Another important thing to point out is that it’s not known if Dina and Nina knew Bella. At least, not well, since it can’t be established if Michael and Bella had a relationship at all. Despite the fact that they were friends when they were younger, Mortimer has no memories of Michael, and neither do Cassandra or Alexander. They never met their uncle.

ALSO, yes Dina and Nina do have alien ancestry. Their father was a result of an alien abduction pregnancy. But he was born human, so they’re not part alien. Which means they didn’t order ANY aliens to go and kidnap anybody. Why would they? They don’t know her. Not even normal alien sims do that, y’all are just racist.

It’s also worth noting that Mortimer is COMPLETELY fine with Bella being gone. He’s not heartbroken and he isn’t desperately trying to find her like the game tries to suggest. He’s strangely cool about it.

Why is Mortimer fine with Bella being gone?

Because they are no longer married and haven’t been since around the time Alexander was born.

And THAT, guys, gals, and nonbinary pals, is the BIGGEST part that y’all need to just remember. If you can only take one thing away from this part, take away the fact that they’re divorced. It’s S U P E R important.

 Now, it is possible to bring Bella back with the Tombstone of Life and Death. She’ll only stick around for a short while because she has a death token that activates when you save the lot, go into Pleasantview, and reload the Goth House. She’ll disappear. Interesting to note that if she’s in the middle of doing something, like talking with a sim or cooking food, she doesn’t disappear completely until she’s done. She does turn see-through and it kinda glitches out…it’s really creepy. Give it a try, you’ll see what I mean. But when she’s done, she’ll disappear, and you’ll get a notification saying she died somewhere else and her spirit has returned to where she was buried.

However, if she dies this way, you cannot resurrect her with the resurrect-o-nomitron. It doesn’t matter who tries it, where they are, or anything. Grim acts like he doesn’t know anything about Bella being dead and even if the Sim COULD resurrect a sim, Bella is not listed.

Since we know Bella is buried in Lunar Lakes, this means she died sometime between the week of her abduction and Cassandra’s wedding where the game starts.

However, while you have Bella in your household, you’ll find she’s brought back with no personality points. She has no memories besides what happened to her children after the first load of Pleasantview. So let’s say that between loading the game and bringing back Bella with the Tombstone, Cassandra gives birth to twin boys. Bella will come back with memories that Cassandra had twins, and she will even know who her grandchildren are. (I use this example because in my most recent Pleasantview playthrough, Cassandra had twin boys named Hendrick and Caspian with Don Lothario.)

Bella will have NO relationship at all whatsoever with Mortimer. You can see before you bring her back on the Goth family tree that they are not married at that point, and Mortimer and Bella start their relationship over as acquaintances. If you let them progress their relationship naturally with no cheats, they actually fight a lot and do not get along at all.

Now, any townie and NPC created before Nightlife will have their turn-on and turn-offs randomized. But it seems to constantly make it so that Bella is never attracted to Mortimer and Mortimer is RARELY attracted to Bella. This is a consistent thing. Interesting to take into consideration.

It’s clear to me, at least, that there were some problems boiling up for some time before Bella vanished.

--they get divorced at around the same time Alexander is born

--they do not get along at all

--Mortimer is completely fine after Bella’s disappearance and isn’t the frantic husband he’s marketed to be at this point in time.

--Mortimer gets into a relationship with Dina Caliente extremely soon after Bella vanishes.

--If Bella does come back and Mortimer is still alive, they naturally do not get along at all.

Which is weird, right? They were always shown to be this desperately in love couple who couldn’t live without eachother. I remember them having a good relationship in the Sims 1.

Also worth noting, Bella is a romance aspiration sim. In the Sims 2, they tend to hoe around a lot. There are a few other adult sims in Pleasantview who are also romance aspiration sims.

1.       Don Lothario (the epitome of the romance aspiration)

2.       Nina Caliente

3.       Daniel Pleasant

4.       Skip Broke was also a romance aspiration sim when he was alive.

What is interesting is that while for the most part, romance aspiration sims like to hoe around, there is one exception to this rule so far: Nina Caliente. Nina Caliente’s only romantically involved with Don Lothario. Unless you have another sim start putting the moves on her, then it’s a whole other story. If it were a thing back then, Nina would have been a soulmate romance aspiration while the others would have been serial romantic aspirations.

Bella COULD have been the same way, but that wouldn’t make any sense with the myriad of problems with her relationship with Mortimer.

So, in conclusion, Bella had an affair. Mortimer found out about it, which caused them to, at the least, separate for a while. Then, Bella became pregnant with Alexander, which would have brought up an important question—who is Alexander’s father? Once Alexander was born, and as he got a little older, it becomes clear that he resembles Cornelia, therefore verifying that Mortimer is indeed his father. This would have caused them to try their relationship again, and Bella would have turned down Don in good faith to Mortimer.

Who did Bella have an affair with?

Don wasn’t in town yet, and they hadn’t met. Neither did she meet the Caliente’s yet. Which leaves two possible contenders for Bella’s secret lover: Daniel Pleasant and Skip Broke.

On one hand, Daniel was Bella’s neighbor. She knew the Pleasants, and was friends with Mary-Sue. Daniel had an affair with Kaylynn going on, so he definitely could have some action on the side with Bella, too. My only reservation on that would be that I couldn’t imagine her doing that to her best friend. But then again, she did have an affair on her husband, so who’s to say what her morals are.

Then, there’s Skip Broke. This one makes the most sense to me, personally. While she wasn’t close with Michael, that doesn’t mean she completely avoided him altogether. She would have heard about Michael’s cloning experiments and could have met Skip that way, or she came to say hello and that was how they met. There is a theory going around that Brandi found out Skip was cheating on her, and that’s why she killed him and took his insurance money.

Maybe I’ll do another thing on that because the Skip Broke incident happens to be another rabbit hole altogether.

 So, we know that Bella had an affair with Mortimer and things weren’t going so well between them at the time of her disappearance. We know that the Calientes and Don are completely innocent, at least as far as her disappearance goes. (And Nina is innocent altogether, she just loves Don and is completely oblivious to the fact that he’s doing her sister and two other women. She is ALSO a victim here, you guys. Give some love to Nina Caliente, she needs it.)

She dies sometime in the week between her abduction and the first time the Goth household is booted up from old age on Lunar Lakes despite the fact that she was a brand new adult again thanks to Mortimer’s reverse age serum.

Then a UFO crashlands in Strangetown and shortly thereafter reports of Bella Goth being in Strangetown start swarming around.

And yes, this Bella is a clone—there are subtle facial similarities, she is not in the family tree at all for the Goth house, but other than that, she’s structured exactly like the Real Bella goes as far as her outfit, her personality, and her aspiration.

(The Wiki says it’s her despite the fact that it’s been verified she’s not, and it also has MANY discrepencies, saying she’s related to the Curious Family and they appear on her family tree, which is incorrect because Strangetown Bella’s family tree is COMPLETELY EMPTY.)

So, clearly, when Bella was abducted, something went wrong. But what?

Well, why would the aliens even abduct her in the first place?

They tend to go after sims who are wealthy, high-skilled, good-looking, popular, anything like that. Bella was ALL of those things. She was the epitome of the perfect sim to the aliens. They practically worshipped her and their queen took her name and appearance. (This is referenced several times, specifically in the Sims 3.)

So, if something were to go wrong, why would the aliens worship her unless she had been being watched for some time before her abduction?

And what went wrong that caused her to lose her memories, her skills, her personality, her youth, everything?

Aliens also do not abduct children, the elderly, and pregnant sims because their experimentation could go drastically wrong.

She wasn’t a child, and reversed her age so she wouldn’t be an elder for quite some time—

So the only thing that’s left is that she was pregnant when she was abducted and that was why things went wrong.

She wouldn’t have known this, and neither would the aliens—it’s possible that the baby was conceived that day, which helped Bella in the case where Don was hitting on her—she wouldn’t go cheating on Mortimer if she were trying to rekindle their relationship and they had made it to woo-hoo that day.

Also worth noting is that there IS another Goth on Lunar Lakes who happens to look exactly like Bella.

Anyone recognize her?

This is Mathilde Goth.

She is the long-lost third child of Mortimer and Bella Goth.

No, they don’t appear on eachother’s family tree, but they wouldn’t if Bella died shortly after giving birth to her and Mathilde was put in the orphanage.

Mathilde looks almost identical to Bella with the exception of her blue eyes. She also has a preference for blue where Bella preferred red.

Mathilde has no idea where her mother came from and the fact that she has a family on Earth who is just as oblivious to her existence as she is to theirs.

 What happens to Cassandra and Alexander after they find out about Bella’s death?

Remember how I said scientist sims end up inventing something?

Cassandra’s invention is time travel. She makes a time machine and the first use is to send Don to the future after her, Dina, Nina, and Kaylynn find out that he was playing all of them. She then goes on to live her life. We don’t know how that looks yet, but she never finds out what happened to her mother and that she has a younger sister.

Alexander is greatly affected by his mother’s death. He has no memories of her being abducted by aliens. Normally toddlers remember things like that so it’s odd that he doesn’t when the rest of his family does. What he does remember is her disappearing, Mortimer being okay with it and getting together with Dina really fast after she vanished, and then finding out that his mother was dead.

Alexander is a child prodigee. He’s a smart kid. So, he would go with any other conclusion someone would go with that limited information: he believed Mortimer killed her.

Well, Cassandra still has her time machine after she uses it to get rid of Don. And as we all know, Alexander’s name shows up in the Sims 3 a few times despite the fact that he doesn’t exist yet. And, according to the Goth family tree, it’s not a family name of an ancestor of his, he is the only Alexander Goth.

Once again, we’re going to reference a console game. This time is the Sims 3 for the Nintendo DS. Alexander actually makes an appearance, and this time, he’s not alone: he’s married to a woman named Cecelia. The family bio says that their gloominess is BECAUSE of Mortimer. Alexander dyed his hair orange. Probably he was trying to bleach it and didn’t know what toner was.  He doesn’t have that great of a relationship with Cecelia, as a matter of fact, she has a better relationship with Don Alto than she does her own husband.

Back in the realm of the PC games, Alexander wrote two books when he went back in time to the continuity of the Sims 3:

Baron Graff Van Gold, which comes with Supernatural,

And then there’s the one that appears in the base game.

Murder in Pleasantview.

To string it altogether, Alexander remembers her being gone, then learning she died. He suspects Mortimer was the one to do it but he never actually talks to his father about it. He doesn’t know anything about the abduction, if anything thinking it a ridiculous rumor. He grows up, gets married, and decides at some point in time to go back in time to try and prevent his mother’s death. So he and his wife go into the time machine and try to go back to when it happened, but instead get sent back wayyyy too far to when his parents are still children. What happens to the time machine? It breaks. He’s stuck in a period of time where Time travel wasn’t a thing and no one really knows how to help him and he sure as hell doesn’t know himself. Effectively, he’s stuck there.

So, he writes A Murder in Pleasantview to tell the story of what he thinks happens to his mother. He doesn’t know it’s really all for nothing, but at the same time, it is because of what ends up happening as a result. A result he probably didn’t even know would happen.

See, A Murder in Pleasantview is a best-seller. It blows up the world of 50 years before his time. Every bookshelf has a copy of this book, standard-load. Sims would have read this, and would be influenced accordingly. They would have made better decisions, not wanting this tragic thing to happen to them.

And yes, it does literally take the world by storm. Better decisions in the past truly make for a better future.

This is where the Sims 4 comes in. It is a different continuity, but it is different because they are aware of what Alexander believes to have happened to Bella. This would be why their personalities are so completely different, why the age gap between Cassandra and Alexander aren’t so extreme, why the Goths are so much more reclusive.

Alexander did something that inadvertently changed the future, eliminating himself and his circumstances entirely. He vanished suddenly, probably in a series of events identical to Back to the Future, where he is then allowed to live his life as a child with his mother in the picture, having no idea what he believed happened to her, nor knowing the truth. He erases his little sister altogether, but he can’t be blamed for that since he didn’t know she even existed.

What happened to his wife? Did she get erased like Alexander did?

No, actually she died. She tried repairing the time machine, failed, and was electrocuted to death as a result. She died young and is buried in the Goth mansion’s graveyard, confusing future generations because no one knows where she comes from because she has the surname Goth but they can’t find her on their family tree.

Lolita Goth was the wife of Alexander Goth.

Yes, it says she’s single, which means one of two things happened:

Either she tried repairing the time machine one last time after Alexander vanished and died,

OR

Like Alexander’s marriage to Cecelia, they didn’t have the best relationship and they ended up getting a divorce, then, possibly with Alexander still around, did the same and died.

She clearly wanted to go back home to her time and wasn’t happy with Alexander for being stuck there.

And it makes sense that she would have been electrocuted with the time machine because there are no other objects in the Goth Mansion that would result in her electrocution.

Which would ALSO explain why the Goths of the Sims 3 can’t figure out who she is. You can’t list a descendent and their wife on your family tree if they don’t exist yet, can you?

 Tragedy is just par for the course in the Goth Family, it matches their dark and dreary macabre air. But Bella’s story is just really extra sad. Imagine trying to repair your failed marriage, going to meet a new neighbor only for him to put the moves on you without invitation, then get abducted by aliens where their experiments go wrong, causing you to lose your memories, your personality, your youth, and then you find out that it went wrong because you’re pregnant, which you didn’t know about that either, and your kidnappers take a tissue sample from you, and then drop you on a strange planet far from home where you have no way to communicate to them that you’re there, but you don’t remember anyone but your children anyway, leaving you to have a baby you didn’t even know existed when you were abducted and live just long enough to name her?

The truth has been staring at us in the face since 2014, but we all missed it. Me included for the longest time. It’s been 16 years since Bella went missing, and we all had theories and ideas, but THIS is the truth, and it’s really. Messed up. Yeah, I found out what happened to Bella, but do I like it? No, not at all. Bella deserved better, and so do her children. Mathilde especially. She grew up in an orphanage never knowing she had a family who would have loved her so very much, only to become a mailcarrier on her home planet. Not that there’s anything wrong with being a mailcarrier, don’t get me wrong.

Dina Caliente is innocent, but seriously? Bye.

Nina Caliente is innocent, and really deserves better.

Don Lothario is innocent, but yet he sucks.

Mortimer Goth used to be my favorite out of the Goth family, yes, even over Bella. But after learning everything about him I have mixed feelings about the guy. I don’t blame him for not trusting Bella, and I don’t blame him for wanting to move on, but jeez, at least show a little genuine emotion, Morty, she was your childhood best friend, and, if nothing else, the mother of your children.

There was no plot to get rid of her and swipe the Goth fortune.

It was just poor timing on the alien’s end, and bad luck altogether.

So, yeah.

That’s what happened to Bella Goth.

[lovee-infected]

haha, Malleus dies AU let's gooooo (imkiddingpleasedont)

:)

“Tsuonotarou”

(A/N): I cried, I've been crying all day and I'll be crying for the rest of the month.

Pairing: Malleus Draconia x Gn! Reader

Warning(s): Angst, Mentions of blood, major character death

"T-tsunotarou-?" You stuttered out. Words came out of your mouth without you even feeling your mouth moving.. At this point, everything felt to bizzare to be even realistic. Your legs, your mouth. Green growing flames sorrounding you and burn all that was left from that hellish war to ashes but all you had on your sight was the wounded fae.

"Tsunotarou!" you screamed as you ran to Malleus, begging to heavens that you weren't too late.

You fall to your knees by Malleus's severely injured body. Unable to do a thing but to terrifiedly gaze at how his warmth of life was being slowly stolen by the cold embrace of death, blood rushing out of the huge wound on the left side of his chest and turning his clothes as red as bloody roses. You let out a choked scream, grabbing his almost, lifeless body by waist and pulling him to your lap. You stared at Malleus with your eyes half shut, trying your best to hold your heavy tears from falling.

There was nothing, you felt nothing. No pain, no joy, no fear. It was neither sad nor happy, you just couldn't feel anything at all. All you knew was that everything seemed unrealistic, so wrong.

No, this had to be a nightmare, this wasn't real. It couldn't be, it couldn't be, it shouldn't be.

Your body was shaking and your voice, trembling. You could see his lips being parted to say something but fail to realize what it was as your tears had totally blurred blurred vision.

Even as tears had clouded your visiton, you could see that was smiling at you, no signs of any fear or anger could be found in his mesmerizing emerald eyes. His smile was soft, just like the first time he smiled at you, you could still feel his sweet laughter being echoed through your ear from the first time he heard you call him "tsunotarou".

You could feel the pain in your chance growing wider as your memories with him are recalled to you, but you had to resist them.This wasn't the right time to cry, you must not. Malleus shouldn't see you cry, not now. You had to show him that you still had faith in him, that you still believe that he's got a chance to survive. You had to be strong in front of him but you couldn't. You couldn't be strong when the dearest person of your life was dying right in front of your eyes.

Your shaky hands took his hand and brought it to your face as you cried hysterically. Malleus was dying and you couldn't do anything but to watch! You thought he was unstoppable, practically immortal! You kept crying into his hand as your tears soaked his coated in dirt and blood hand. "You said I won't need to worry! You promised that you'll be fine! You p-promised-!!" you cried to the air.

Malleus wished he could've opened his mouth and say those words again, to confront you, to tell you those lies over and over and try to make you believe everything is going to be fine but the unbearable pain burning his chest turned his words into nothing but a bloody cough. He help but to feel guilty. Oh dear, who could've imagined that *this, would be the end of the cruel fae who was once the future King of valley of thorns...? Such a pitiful way to die...

"Child of man...please don't-"

"You promised to be the one protecting me when things went wrong! You told me that you'll be there whenever I needed you...!!" You wailed while choking up in sobs. words kept coming out of your mouth without you having any control over them, you didn't even realize that you were not simply talking but shouting at this point. You felt so heavy, so full of words. These were going to be your last words to him and no one even tried to hold you back from pouring your anger on fae, not even Malleus himself.

"I-I need you now, please. Please I love you tsunotarou don't leave me alone!" you screamed in pain and broke down in tears again. You brought your teary face to his, letting tears swell down your face and fall on his.

"My precious human, you don't have much time left. It's your now-or-never chance to make a a return to your own world...,don't waste it on me... go," Malleus whispered to you, his tone was still so certain strong yet filled with so much pain. And you knew that he was right.

Just a few meters away from where Malleus's lifeless body was laying, bloody screams and shouts of the students fighting could still be heard. The hall of mirrors had been destroyed, and the dark mirror's gate itself could get closed at any second. You could here Ace and Deuce screaming your name as they tried to find you through the crowd, it was your very last chance to return home.

"Your friends are calling, little one. D-...gah-!!" Malleus hissed as he squirmed in pain. "D-don't keep them waiting..." even yet, he was keeping his smile on. But even as his face could fool you his struggling for breath was telling you that he couldn't last for much longer...

"I DON'T CARE ABOUT THEM!" you said as you hugged tight to his face again. You ran your fingers through his messy hair, wanting to scream from the bottom of your chest and letting the whole world hear your pain. "I want to stay here with y-you, please, as long as I get to be with you no one else matters..." words become hard to spell as the your throat is clogged with pain. You couldn't talk, you couldn't see, you couldn't breathe. You'd never wanted life to be a nightmare more that you did now, you were begging to heaven to let it all be on, to let you wake up from this hell and find your beloved tsunotarou beside you; safe and alive.

"Here...with me?" Malleus said in a questionable tone but he wasn't really asking. His closed his eyes begun to let out a weak smirk as he continued to speak: "Happy endings... aren't for villains, child of man" he bitterly uttered before letting out another cough "You've got no future with me..."

His words ached your heart a lot more than you thought it may. Oh lords, just how badly you wished you could just grab his face and kiss all over it again and again while telling him not to say such things. But here you were, doing nothing but to silently cry as you held on to your beloved one's lifeless body. You couldn't save him, you couldn't do anything tobut to watch. Your hands wee holding him tight but couldn't do anything to take away the pain burning his chest or even stop him from bleeding.

"Yet..." malleus sighed "I used to wonder if you could you could be my... happy ending,"

Malleus's fragile smile had vanished, his face being totally experssionless now. The light of his glowing eyes was slowly disappearing, his breathes were cut shorter and his hands... colder.

"And...I was right. You indeed changed everything about my life" you could see a small drop of tearing falling down his eye as he spoke:"You brought light to me just when I'd given in to my darkness and before I could've realized... you changed me" a small yet, genuine smile begun to reappear upon his pale lips. He turned his head to you, his hand trying to pull a small strand of your hair away from your teary face. "You are my little angel, (y/n). You've always been..."

And before you could've realized, you were no longer the only one crying. Your finger slid between his hand, trying to hold it once again. He locks his fingers with yours, making you feel the warmth of all the times you two had held hands before. You couldn't tell why but, you realized that you were smiling through your tears. The pain was ripping your heart out, yet there was also a warmth, a hope.

A feeling of joy that made you want to smile at him back through the depths of pain and despair, just like the first time, when you were smiling at the horned stranger standing at the back of the ramshackle dorm. All those glamorous meetings, are held secretly in the dead of the night and not a single knew about them but you and your unknown visitor, your tsunotarou. Each and every of the memories you had besides him were recalled to you, and your mind drowned in him. His laughter, his eyes, his warmth. The love you two shared and not a single soul knew about it but you, all flashed before your eyes as you gazed through his emerald eyes again.

"(y/n)! There you are!" you heard Deuce's from behind as you could hear their footsteps approaching, yet you didn't care to turn your head away, your whole world was lost in the fae's eyes at the moment.

"I love you...Malleus" you whispered to him, not even realizing that this was your very first time calling him by name.

"As I love you," he replied.

You wanted to say something but it becomes hard to form words when your mouth refuses to work, when words get lost in a sea of murky thoughts, when the numbing darkness pulled you closer. Or was that Malleus pulling you closer? You couldn't quite tell anymore.

You brought your lips closer to his, feeling the last remaining of his lifeless breathes brushing against your face.

"Be it in this life or next," he murmured, his words low but soft against your skin when you squeezed his bloodied fingers in yours "I will find you again. I promise to you, I will."

And this time, he wasn going to keep his promise by all means...

You bowed your face down to his, whispering to him before your lips met: "Then I'll be waiting for you....once upon a dream"

You closed your eyes and felt his soft lips against yours, the kiss was filled with a deadly pain but also met a slight warmth of hope. You filled your entire existend being woven to him. The kiss was filled with the taste of coopery blood combined with your salty tears, yet so soft and sweet.

"(y/n)..." Nothing could make this moment any more euphric for Malleus than it already was, surrounded by beautiful, swirling trails of light, feeling utterly weightless and free, met by a dreamy kiss from the one and only love of his life, he wonders if his life had ever been this good. He could barely remember ever being so calm. Crying at such a beautiful moment seemed totally pointless. Why try to struggle against something so wonderful? Right?

You didn't pull back even as the fae's very last breathe got lost between the kiss and his eyelids fell shut.

At last, you'd given him the true “kiss of death”.

[mrwinterr]

Die Happy

Pairing: Ghost!Bucky Barnes AU x Female Reader; tiny hint of Sam Wilson x Female Reader

Summary: You summon a really friendly ghost.

Warnings: Smut 18+ (consensual vibes all around, masturbation, vaginal fingering, oral [female receiving]) and language. Dabbling into the occult (use of a Ouija board).

Disclaimer: I’m a spooky bitch, I like how Ouija boards look like, but I would NEVER mess with them.

Title Inspiration: “Die Happy” by Dreamers  

A/N: I was on Reddit and I stumbled across an erotic audio that inspired this, so I definitely owe it to them. I’ve just been dying to write a ghost AU. I decided to hold back on the smut on this for now and maybe save it for later. This can be turned into a series, but I don’t want to get ahead of myself. Idk. You tell me! Enjoy!

It’s here.

It’s finally here. The package that would help you find the answers you were so desperately looking for was finally here.

Package in hands, there’s a skip to your steps as you happily make your way back into the living room of your somewhat new home. You had moved in almost six months ago, but it still felt so surreal. You, a homeowner. All those years of saving up and house hunting - you finally did one of the most adult things you could do in your life.

The small house had been in the neighborhood for decades and owned by plenty before you, in fact, too plenty, but for a home in Brooklyn, New York it was surprisingly affordable. You’re still patting yourself on the back for how you managed to score this place at such a bargain price.

It was the ideal place, really; surrounded by friendly neighbors and with a great home association. It was at a reasonable distance from your workplace and the city. Furthermore, cosmetically, it was your dream home. You never took a second to ask why someone would quickly put this home back on the market...until recently.

The realtor had assured you that everything in the house was functioning properly before you signed away. There was little to no refurbishing on your end, which was part of the dealbreaker, but now you can’t help to wonder if the realtor was duping you. A young, pretty woman and a first-time homeowner? That was easy bait for them, right? There had to be a catch or information that they were withholding and well, you weren’t about to wait any longer to find out.

Lately, strange things had been happening and while at first you brushed them off as mere coincidences, they were becoming almost too outstanding to ignore.

First, it was the air conditioning unit acting all wonky. You kept the house at a reasonable and comfortable temperature, but you found yourself often sporting hoodies even during the warmer seasons. The technicians couldn’t find a single problem with it and besides whenever you scheduled a visit for inspection, it was magically working just fine. Never mind the breeze that blew past you here and there…

Next, much like the AC unit, the electricity started to have a mind of its own. Before you could flip the light switch or press the button on your remote, it was always one step ahead of you. It was almost like you were living in a smart house, but instead of acting on voice command, it read your mind.

Not to mention, things disappeared and reappeared every now and then. Small things like the morning paper would vanish from the coffee table and if you couldn’t locate where you last left your keys, you never searched too far.

Then the eeriest one of them all was the unexplained smell. There was a distinct yet alluring scent that would waft by when you felt that breeze pass over. You had deduced that it wasn’t any like of your fragrance collection nor was it from the only friend that visited you. It was a pleasant odor and almost calming to you.  

You didn’t want to believe it, but these weren’t just common occurrences - these were tall tale signs of a haunting. The spirit wasn’t vengeful, that much you gathered since it didn’t make attempts to harm you in any way. Sure you could just either ignore these oddities or relist the home, the latter which wasn’t in your favor because it wasn’t that simple. Instead, curiosity won the best of you and you opted to take matters into your own hands.

Literally.

“Whoa!” You hear your close friend Sam Wilson exclaim and watch as he scoots to the other end of the couch as far away as he could when you pull the Ouija board out from the box. “Shit, girl. I knew you liked Halloween, but I didn’t think you were that spooky!” He said, his eyes bugging out in disbelief that you’d ordered such a thing.

You roll your eyes at him and place the board on the coffee table. He immediately gets up from his spot and sets what he deems is a safe distance from it as if the object was cursed. You’re not deterred by the Ouija board at all. It had quite the opposite effect because you were all too fascinated with the supernatural.

“You really shouldn’t mess with that kind of stuff,” Sam warns as you handle the remaining piece, the planchette.

“I don’t know why you’re so scared,” you respond, blowing him off and kicking away the now empty box.

“And you’re not?!” He says incredulously, “trying to speak to the dead is not right!” Well, it certainly wasn’t normal, but so weren’t the things that were happening in your home lately.

“I need to find answers, Sam!” You bite back, the volume of your voice matching his. You didn’t miss the hint his exclamations gave off and it bothered you. “What do you expect me to do? Continue living like this? I’m not in control of my own home.”

Oh, he knew. He was your closest friend and you trusted him enough to share your theories about your home and the experiences in it.

“You really think this place is haunted.” It comes off as more of a statement because he can see you’ve clearly made up your mind on how you’re going to prove the theory.

“Why do you think I can’t have Sarge or any pets over?” You absolutely adored Sam’s dog Sarge, but he made it apparent that he didn’t like something about or in your house.

Before Sam could try and spit out an explanation you’ve already heard, you stopped him, “I’m not going crazy! And I certainly am not going to spend another fee on having a technician tell me there’s nothing wrong with the units again.”

“Look. Why don’t you just come spend the night at my place and we can think of another way to approach this?” He offered and you knew that offer all too well. It had always been on the table. When you decided to move to Brooklyn and were looking for your own place, Sam had offered you a room, but you were hellbent on making it on your own. You were proud and independent...and weren’t sure about taking the next step with him.

Sam was everything your past lovers weren’t and you while you both weren’t official, a couple of dates happened here and there, something was holding you back. You cherished his friendship so much and a part of you feared finding out what it could be that you weren’t willing to jeopardize what you two already had if anything more came out of it and then failed miserably. He made it clear how he felt about you, but you brushed it off casually each time. Sam knew you simply weren’t ready.

“Thanks, but I’ll be okay.” You reply, breaking away from seeing the look of concern on his face and back to the planchette your hands were fidgeting with. You knew he was a skeptic on these kinds of things and only worried for your safety.

The nights he had spent here nothing strange ever happened. It’s like these occurrences were only happening about you. Sam wasn’t sure if he believed in ghosts or not, and he deeply cared for you, but he wasn’t about to stick around and find out. He knew that you could be stubborn, but there was only so much he could do to change your mind from where he stood and he just hoped he hadn’t lost you yet.

The small crack of thunder in the sky indicated a storm was coming and you took that as a sign to convince Sam to leave for the day. You didn’t want to fight with him about this. The few times you did talk about a possible haunting were just humorous conversations to Sam, but you were always being serious. It was evident that you two were not on the same page.

“You should probably start heading home before the rain comes,” you advise, standing up to walk over to the front door, hoping it’d sway him, but he knew what you were doing. Sam wasn’t mad. He was always very patient with you.

He only nods in false agreement before following your lead. “I’m coming back first thing in the morning to check if you’re still alive though,” he jokes, before pulling you in for a hug and giving you a kiss to the side of your head. His words elicit a light chuckle from you, but is mostly muffled against his biceps, then you’re playfully shoving him out the door.

As soon as his car disappears from the end of the street, you jolt and head snaps quickly at a sudden crash from the kitchen. You make your way in that direction to find the mug gifted to you on your last birthday from Sam shattered in pieces all over the kitchen floor.

The last roar of thunder must’ve been a strong one or the elevation of the shelf had been slightly off or maybe the house didn’t like Sam…

You shook your head at that last silly thought from your mind and sighed preparing to clean up the mess. Once that was done, the gloomy weather quickly casted a blanket over the sky and with a remix of fast raindrops against the windows and pavement and the lag in thunder, you didn’t waste time on the mission.

What better time than now? It set the mood. Were you scared? You weren’t sure. You were already convinced you were living with a spirit. You didn’t ponder long enough to think about the aftermath. Was this all just a bunch of hocus pocus or pseudoscience? Would you get possessed by a demon or would he be like Casper?

The use of a Ouija board, especially by someone inexperienced as yourself, was highly not recommended and very much frowned upon during your upbringing. If only your parents could see you now...

The spirit in your home couldn’t be that bad though, right? If they wanted to possess you, they would’ve done so by now; unless they were just waiting for an invitation. Well, there was only one way to find out.

You dimmed the lights and lit a few candles around you. Was this insulting? You did some fair share of research, but most of what you knew about Ouija boards were credited to horror movies.

You take a deep breath and begin to summon your supposed roommate.

Bucky felt bad as he watched you clean up the mess he made in your kitchen. He knew you liked that mug, but he didn’t and he certainly didn’t like how Sam made you feel. Sam made you feel all sorts of things and Bucky knew that, which explained why Sam never experienced anything unusual in the house because Bucky didn’t like seeing you with him.  

He was aware of how silly it was. A ghost jealous of two living humans. He had his turn, but it was tragically cut short. He was so young. He left everything behind to fight a World War. There was a high chance he wouldn’t come back and he was sadly part of that statistic.

But why did his afterlife have to consist of seeing the most angelic living human being just waiting to fall in love with the perfect living man? He didn’t get a chance to live out that part of his life, so was he bitter? Yes. And especially outraged at any distress that was brought upon the current tenant of his old home.

Bucky wasn’t sure why he was able to roam around his old stomping ground over the last couple of decades. He tried his best to communicate with the previous owners but he always ended up scaring them off. When you moved in, if he wasn’t already dead, and you could’ve seen him, he just knew he would’ve been as pale as a well...ghost. He made sure to not send you running for the hills.

He tried to help you with everyday things, trying his best to be subtle. He didn’t even spy on you during private moments like in the shower or on those lonely, needy nights. He proved himself to be a ghostly gentleman.

He even tried to not eavesdrop on your conversations and almost always disappeared when guests were present, but he heard you raise your voice earlier at Sam. He wasn’t sure what you two were arguing about and sure it was petty on his part, but before he could summon enough energy to knock over the mug, Sam was already gone.

Bucky followed you back into the living room and watched as you lit the candles scattered around. He lightly smiled believing you were attempting to relax. If only seeing you in peace was enough to put him to rest - permanently - but when he sees you take a seat back on your couch his expression fell and he swore his heart would stop again if it could.

“Oh no,” he says as he watches you stare at the Ouija board on the table before you. Bucky starts pacing in front of you, his hands over his head. Anyone that set foot and stayed long enough knew this place was haunted, and he knew you weren’t stupid and besides he wasn’t as subtle as he’d like to have been lately.

“Is anyone here?” He hears you ask the first question. He looks over your direction and sees your eyes are closed with both hands on the planchette.

“Oh my God,” he barely whispers and realizes, “she’s really trying to talk to me.” He couldn’t believe you’d be so brave to risk such a thing and importantly willingly reaching out to him.

“Yes! I am! I’m here!” She can’t hear you, idiot. “Fuck, of course she can’t hear me.” Bucky argues with himself on what to do before he remembers how Ouija boards work.

He almost can’t believe it when he does it, but he’s able to delicately move your hands and slide the planchette over to the word ‘YES’.

Your eyes pop open and you gasp when you see that you got an answer. You're frozen and look up in front of you half expecting the spirit to show itself to you, but you don’t see anything.

At least that’s what you think. Unbeknownst to you, you’re staring right at Bucky or rather through him. His expression mirrors yours - complete and utter shock. He was never able to easily move or touch anything solid in years. The incident with the mug earlier, that kind of stuff usually required a lot of concentration and energy on his part. He’s also scared that he’s frightened you with that move, but at the same time excited that he’s successfully communicating with you.

You’re unsure if you should continue. You were half expecting this to be a bust, but it moved. It actually moved! While you were excited that this worked, the tiny voice in the back of your head had you considering that maybe you shouldn’t go any further, but who ever really listened to them? You blink a few times and refocus your attention on the task.

“What are you?” You ask.

“What am I?” Bucky repeats the question, “I’m dead.” Wait. He starts to spell the letters ‘D-E-A-D’ with your hands on the planchette. He compares the sight of the corners of your mouth lifting, amused at that response, of course he was dead, as to what angels must’ve felt like when they earned their wings. If anyone believed in that sort of stuff...either way he felt very blessed.

“You liked that one, didn’t you?” Bucky said more to himself with a big smile on his face. He loved this! It was like he was having a conversation with you. It was something he only ever dreamed of for the last six or so months.

A particular flash of lightning followed by a thunderous sound startles you and you breakaway from the Ouija board. You weren’t going to lie. You were still absolutely spooked out and decided that maybe that was enough contact with the dead for the day.

When your heartbeat finally returned to its normal pace, you got up and turned on the lights, made sure you blew all the candles out and turned in for the night. Before you left, Bucky watched you look around the room and bid goodnight to seemingly nothing, but he knew it was meant for someone - it was meant for him.

The days that followed, you were growing curiouser and curiouser that in your spare time, you started digging into how much can come out of the Ouija board, but first you needed to figure out who you were dealing with.

With as much access as you were granted, you found out about a man, who was around the same age as you, that had died during World War II and the hauntings that would start to occur after the first tenant took residence upon this home.

The house belonged to a man named James Buchanan Barnes, but signed it under the name Bucky. How cute. You thought to yourself over the nickname, then you saw an accompanying photo of who you assumed was living with you. It was in black and white and the quality wasn’t that up to par, but from what you could make out you could determine enough. Cute name for a cute guy.

You read the experiences of others that lived here before you and they all seemed harmless. They were just spooked and you didn’t blame them. They had every right to be scared, but you didn’t scare that easily.

You’re so engrossed with your findings, you barely paid any attention to Sam, even when he’d come in to check on you. He had the spare key in case of emergencies, and you ignoring most of his unreturned phone calls and missed texts, uncharacteristically you, to him was deemed as an emergency.

Sam was only less than thrilled to see your enthusiasm on all this. Normal people didn’t go around poking at the dead. He pointed out you were lucky you didn’t get possessed, not paying any mind or adhering to you claiming he was probably a friendly ghost.

“This isn’t an episode of Casper!” Sam says fed up again. His face falters as he watches your shoulders visibly slump. He hated killing the vibe, especially when you were excited, but you were excited about something all too unreal and that shouldn’t be messed with at all in the first place.

“What if I can help him?” You try reasoning with him, “What if I can help him pass on? Then I can live in peace...and so would he.”

“You’re already lucky that you’re unharmed,” Sam reminds you, “I’m just worried about you.”

“I know you are, but I’ll be fine,” you assure him, hoping you could keep that promise. After all, you couldn’t even confirm you were really communicating with Bucky.

You were relieved that the conversation with Sam didn’t take a turn for the worse like it easily could have. You understood where he was coming from and you were lucky to have someone like him care so much about your wellbeing. The realization never fails to punch you in the gut for not allowing yourself to give in.

So why were you more scared to commit than of willingly reaching out to a ghost?

Take two.

You sat perched up and ready to communicate once more. Bucky, on the other hand, is more than ready and the cool familiar breeze that passes you by lets you know that he’s here.

“Who are you?” There weren’t exactly formalities with contacting the dead and your heartbeat starts to pick up as you’re slowly spelling out ‘B-U-C-K-Y’.

“Bucky,” you whisper. Boy, did Bucky like the sound of his name coming from your lips.

“How did you...die?” you had to swallow in between the last word in that question, hoping it wouldn’t trigger a negative response. Even in the afterlife, death couldn’t be an easy topic.

The letters ‘W-A-R’ and the number ‘2’ gives you your answer. It was him! Internally, you’re overjoyed that you’ve figured out your ghostly John Doe, but you try to remain at ease.

“Did you knock down my mug?”

Bucky rolls his eyes at that, but swiftly moves your hands over to ‘YES’.

“Okay. I mean that wasn’t very nice,” you couldn’t just bite your tongue as the sass flowed right out of you.

‘S-O-R-R-Y’.

The apology takes you by surprise, and suddenly you weren’t mad about the mug anymore.

“It’s alright. It was just a mug,” you try to assure him. You’d just have to explain to Sam another time that the ghost broke it. No biggie. Yeah, right. What with the tiny arguments, he’d most likely believe you destroyed it out of anger and frustration at him.

Your arms were getting tired from the position they were in. Several minutes had passed since you last said anything to Bucky and you weren’t sure of what to ask next.

Where does this end? Do you ask him to leave? This is his home. No, it’s not anymore. It’s your home now. But he doesn’t belong here anymore. How do you help him pass on? Did you have that ability? Do you hire a medium? Enlist the help of a priest? Call a ghostbuster? Your mind grew tired all too quickly, you slumped back in your seat, breaking away from the Ouija board.

Bucky watched as you rubbed the muscles of your sore arms. He felt helpless. He wishes he could ease or take away your pain. Instead, all he could do was watch and make sure you were okay until you were ready to start talking again.

With your hands back on the items, you ask, “are you still here?” Bucky responds with ‘YES’. You take a deep breath and close your eyes, mentally preparing yourself, before proceeding with the next question.

“Can you show yourself to me?” There the ultimate question and Bucky can’t help but ask why? Why were you interested in seeing him? He was a lost cause.

“No?” you ask more to yourself, still staring at the word through the eye of the planchette, and frown at his response.

Bucky wanted nothing more than to show himself to you, but he didn’t know how. For decades he was nothing but a gust of air. No matter how hard he tried to show himself to previous owners, he was never successful.

You pull your hands back away and place them in your lap, unsure of where to go from here. Well, you couldn’t force a ghost to do something they didn’t want to do, but you hoped that maybe perhaps seeing him would make it less taxing while communicating.

There’s a sudden iciness that covers the side of your cheek, sending a chill down your spine, causing you to flinch and your hand rising quickly to warm the spot.

Bucky almost disappears at the sudden reaction. He can’t believe it. You felt that. You could feel him. It was different than pushing your hands in different directions because this time, neither of you needed the help of the Ouija board.

You’re not sure where he is as your eyes scan the room, you wanted to feel that again. Sure, the cold was a bit alarming, and as sharp as his icy touch was, so was the surge that flowed through you. It was unexplainable, but soothing.

It sucked for Bucky because he couldn’t keep your eyes trained on just him.

“Are you sure you can’t show yourself?” You ask again, this time convinced you didn’t need the Ouija board anymore.

However, Bucky needed the board to reply. You sigh in defeat as you watch the planchette slide across to the word ‘YES’. You couldn’t allow yourself to get mad. You just couldn’t understand how it was possible for him to do all these other things, but not be able to show himself. Whatever it was, you’d just have to accept that you’d never understand ghost logic.

The sound of the planchette scraping against the board, offers you the word, ‘F-E-E-L’.

Feel? You definitely felt a presence, but now it was confirmed. It was him. He was trying to communicate through touch.

“Yes, I felt you,” you let Bucky know quite eagerly. The planchette remains unmoved after that and instead of what would appear to be awkward silence, the seconds that were passing by could be more appropriately compared to that of a ticking time bomb.

“Touch me,” you request.

Bucky’s stunned. If he were alive and well right now, he’d no doubt be on his knees for you with a command like that. He floats over to you and is only more than eager to touch you again, but he’s not sure of where. Feeling a soft anticipation of a ghostly tingle, he hesitantly places both hands on the underside of your jaw, in a cradle-like fashion, hoping it'll stop your wandering eyes.  

You stand still, frozen in place, now seeing the breath of air that escapes your mouth in a cloud of smoke. He’s definitely here and in front of you.

“More,” you say barely above a whisper.

Fuck. Bucky inwardly swears at himself as you unintentionally egg him on. Testing his limits, what more could he already lose? He was already dead.

He goes all in. He leans in and presses his cold, dead lips to yours in the most gentle and light kiss ever. When he pulls away, he sees that your eyes have closed and he can’t help immediately start to wonder if you actually felt that or not. He sure as hell felt it. He can’t be certain as he tries to gauge at the expression on your face. Shit, why did he do that?

“Do it again,” and this time with a more affirmative tone, Bucky doesn’t question anything anymore and obeys. His lips dig deeper against yours, you let out a small moan and purse your lips to respond. You don’t think about how silly it must look to be making out with practically nothing, not knowing what to do with your hands because there was nothing to hold onto, but despite that it all felt too real. He was real.  

Bucky’s mind is reeling at the sound of pleasure that spews from your mouth, he can’t comprehend how this is even possible. He’d been dying to know what kissing you felt like - what you felt like at all.

When your lips start to get numb and turn blue, you reluctantly pull away. You open your eyes to a dark room and wish you could at least hear him, the sounds of ecstasy played a pivotal role in intimacy.  

Your body temperature returns to normal, blood rushing, mind a haze. You stand up and head towards your bedroom without another word. Would he take the cue to follow you? You can’t be sure. You can’t see or hear him, but your actions say otherwise and make you both feel as if he wasn’t dead at all. It was now a game of cat and mouse.

Bucky or not, you were unabashedly turned on. In moments like these, it was hard to be in control of your own body and the only thing you could do was give in to the desires. In this instance, your body couldn’t make up its mind because as if you weren’t just freezing your ass off while kissing Bucky, you were suddenly hot all over.

Flustered, you pulled down your shorts, tossed them carelessly across the room, perhaps a little too harshly. If he wasn’t going to help you out, then you would do the job yourself. A mad smile on your face, surprised you weren’t the least bit embarrassed if he was going to watch you or not. It only added to the thrill and the excitement.

Trying to regulate your breathing, you lie down on the center of your bed and run your hands over your face down to where you needed them the most. Your fingers experimentally graze along the wet spot of your panties, groaning in acknowledgment of the sudden arousal. There’s no sense in conjuring up a justifiable explanation as to how something so seemingly innocent as the kiss you shared with Bucky got you so crazed. Not wasting any time, you lift your hips up and bend your legs to slip the flimsy garment off.

No longer a thin barrier between, your entire body shivers slightly, a sharp gasp escaping your lips, when your fingers make first contact with your clit and you begin to rub slow slow circles over it. Your stomach sinks in with each relieving exhale, your breathing growing heavy. Your fingers run off course and dip into your folds, past the floodgates, your fingers resurface coated in your own wetness and you use it to an advantage in invigorating your clit.

Eyes closed, you start to think about Bucky. You want to feel guilty or believe this was all wrong. Instead of getting off to someone like Sam or someone real for that matter, you lied there baring yourself to a ghost. You try to picture that baby face of his, and all that you could based on the lone image you found of him on the Internet.

The curve of his full lips that you were fortunate enough to feel on yours moments ago. You already knew they were soft, but what about his other features? Did his eyes sparkle or were they like black holes? What color were they? They had to be of a set that could hypnotize someone. Maybe it was okay that you couldn’t see him because if you had you just knew that you’d be at his mercy.

And that was just on the surface of it all. How was he like in other areas? How would his tongue feel against yours, on your skin, in you...The simulation causes your thighs to clamp up, knees involuntarily knocking into each other; your other hand clutching onto the bed sheets. He made it that easy, but you needed one more good push to dive in the deep end.

A thin layer of sweat coats your skin from the increase in body heat, then an abrupt familiar cold sensation runs through you, his alluring scent filling your nostrils, your legs forcefully separate; all tells you that Bucky was here. You pick up your head, always a small hint of disappointment flashes through your features at the fact you still and won’t be likely to ever see him.

It shoots a wild pang through Bucky’s chest because he doesn’t miss it; never knowing he could read someone so openly. He missed out on a good chunk of his life. He missed out on someone like you. Life was so cruel.

Your thoughts aren’t as far away from his as you start to wonder, why was it all so easy - seamlessly flawless - with him? Running with only first-party information and two silent conversations, you were already willing to go headfirst for halos for Bucky. Was it pathetic? You didn’t care anymore, whatever would ultimately bring you to him, you just knew in the end you’d die happy.

Your head falls back in defeat and you try to keep your emotions at bay, until you feel the hem of your shirt being lifted, exposing your midriff. Your lips cave in and you wince at each uncalculated cold peck Bucky’s lips leave on you. Whereas you felt a minor sting at how cold his touches were, for the first time, Bucky felt like he was on fire at how hot to the touch you were in this moment. This moment with him.

His lips create a path down to your core, and the contrast in temperature feels good. Not knowing what to do with your hands again, your arms lie sprawled on the bed on either side of your body, then you mentally curse at another sad truth that you had no one to hold on to.

A cool breeze brushes past your folds and your heartbeat spikes up again. Bucky never imagined he’d ever be able to make someone feel this way. It was pointless for him, but he dreamt about it countless times. And then he wickedly thinks how he was dumb to not spy on you during those nightly sessions. He was missing out. You were absolutely divine in his eyes.

“Bucky,” his name slips past your lips when his make contact with your swollen clit. It started off so innocently, but when he pulled his lips back and ran his tongue over the wet spot you left on them, giving him a taste of what you had to offer, he wanted more.

The cold, with each bit of contact from Bucky, was no longer a thing as your body quickly acclimated to it. Bucky uses his fingers to spread your pussy lips apart and allows himself to get a better taste. Your head lulls back, sinking in deeper into your pillows.

There’s only so much you could do to communicate with Bucky, you want to feel his hands all over, but instead you pick up on the slack as you grab and squeeze handfuls of your breasts, massaging them and adding onto the sensation. Your groping proves to be successful when you draw out more noises.

Bucky’s eyes never tear away from watching your reaction, the way your body moves from pleasure - pleasure he’s bestowing on you. His mouth doesn't require guidance as his tongue pulls all the right moves, weaving its way through and between your folds. He drags out a long moan from you when he dips his tongue in and then captures your folds between his lips, tugging as he sucked on them.

“I-I need,” you try to voice out your desires, but you’re reveling in so much, especially in being able to feel Bucky’s fingers digging into the sides of your hips; you bite down on one of your fingers, trying not to let out a crazed scream.

Bucky doesn’t want you to hold back though, so he introduces his fingers into the mix as they take turns in you. You wished you could hear him and all the sounds of his onslaught. To hear those pretty boy moans, the filthy pops and slurping noises. Was he a dirty talker? God. Imagine the things he would say.

He gets the message loud and clear. You want to come, and so he quickens his actions until your body goes into overdrive. When you reach your peak, your eyes snap open, pupils blown, and your back arches up in perfect bridge-like fashion. It almost looks like you’re being possessed before you come back down releasing choppy gasps of breaths.

Exhausted, you struggle to stay conscious wanting to communicate with Bucky one last time, but it felt like the orgasm almost sucked the life out of you. The puffs of cool air against your pussy are an indication that Bucky is still present and he wasn’t going to go anywhere just yet. He hasn’t moved from his position and is short of breath, in awe of seeing you coming undone for him and more so the fact that this happened. This wasn’t just another one of his dreams.

For as long as he’d been an apparition, he’d hoped to be able to finally pass on and if this was his actual last day on Earth, then he’d gladly accept it because one night with you was enough. 

Bucky would die happy.

A/N: Yeah, the ending wasn’t strong, but I wanted to leave it open for interpretation. Let me know what you think! A simple like and reblog is enough to help a sis out! Thank you for reading! 

[junosartsthetic]

Patching Things Up   

Wordcount: 3846

Character(s): Dabi, (Y/N)

Warning(s): Innuendos. Swearing. Mentions of sex. Angst. 

Note: This is an updated version of a one-shot I originally posted on my Quotev account.

__

 You snuggled deeper into the blankets surrounding you, your feet tucked under you as you leaned against the armrest. Your eyes fixated themselves onto the T.V. as you flipped through the channels with one hand, the other holding a mug of hot chocolate.

       A sudden knocking at the door caused you to pause your channel surfing and look towards the door a little ways away from the living room. You could see the rain pouring outside the window but spotted nobody.

       You raised an eyebrow and set your mug down on the side table before standing up, the remote being placed on the arm rest. Your socks slid against the wooden floor as you made your way to the door, covering your robe against your body to keep warm.

       You peered out the window and saw a figure, though it was too dark to make out the specifics. You flicked on the porch light.

       A young man with jarring purple blotches of skin all over his body held together by staples slouched forward, his hands gripping his side. Blood dripped from it.

       You let out a gasp. You recognized him as one of the members of the League of Villains— Dabi.

       Your hand went into your robe pocket and you pulled out your phone, getting ready to dial the cops before a harsh knock stopped you. Your eyes met a bright teal as you stared at his face through the window. His gaze was soft, softer than you’d seen from his pictures on the news. It looked strangely familiar.

       You slid your phone back and put a hand against the window, tilting your head. What was he doing here? Why your house?

       His mouth began to move, and you made out the words, ‘open the door.’

       You shook your head.

       He frowned. ‘Please.’

       You bit your lip before reaching for the handle and opening it. Now, only a glass door remained between the two of you.

       You reached out to grab the handle to the glass door, and pulled it open slightly. ‘What the fuck am I doing?’ you thought, now holding it open wide enough for him to step inside. ‘He’s a murderer. A Villain. And I’m letting him inside because of some weird nostalgic feeling. God, I’m an idiot.’

       He grabbed the edge of the door and used it as a brace as he limped inside. He was soaked to the bone and blood began to drip onto your door mat.

       “What the hell are you doing here?” you asked, closing the doors behind him. “I don’t even know you.”

       Dabi let out a breathy laugh which quickly devolved into coughing. His eyes held a certain spark to them, and you squinted at him. He shrugged his leather coat off and hung it on the coat rack before kicking his shoes off. “Yes you do,” he replied, now beginning to limp towards your kitchen.

       “Hey!” you said, stomping after him. “I don’t know what came over me to let you inside, but you don’t get to prance around my house like you own the place.” You caught up to him and pulled on his arm to get his attention as he was now digging through your medicine cabinet. “And I have never met you before in my life.”

       He turned his head to glance at you, flashing you a cocky smile. “C’mon, you really don’t remember me, princess?”

       “Princess— ” you shot him a glare—  “For, the last time, I’m a knight, not a princess— ” you stopped, flashing back to a vivid memory.

       “Okay,” he said, his six year old self pointing at your five year old self with a wooden sword. “Now, you go and be the princess, and I’ll slay the dragon for you!”

       You shook your head, crossing your chubby arms. “No! I wanna be the knight in shining armor!”

       “But then who will be the princess?”

       You smiled. “You!”

       He shook his head. “I don’t wanna.”

       “Okay, then you can be the dragon, and I can be the knight, and there can be a pretend princess!” You tilted your head, wondering if that would be alright. “How about that…”

       “Touya,” you suddenly said, your body freezing up as you backed away from the male who was now taking his bloodstained shirt off in the middle of your kitchen.

       He paused, his arms partially behind his head and his shirt halfway off, and let out a soft chuckle. “It’s been a while.”

       Your heart began to race as your eyes fogged up with tears. “I- I thought you were dead! What the hell are you doing with your life! A villain, really?” You shook your head, wetness now rolling down your cheeks. “Why, Touya?”

       He finished pulling his shirt off, revealing the true extent of his scars, and began to dab a cotton ball doused in rubbing alcohol on what looked to be a bullet wound on the side of his stomach, his other hand holding a pair of your tweezers. “The name’s Dabi now.”

       “I don’t care.” You wiped your tears away and grabbed the cotton ball and the tweezers before gesturing for him to sit on one of your bar stool chairs. “I need answers. You can’t just— ” you let out a tense breath—  “just show up here after all this time!”

       He sat down on the bar stool and turned his wound towards you. “Fine, but I’m currently bleeding out, so maybe we should focus on that first, aye, princess?”

       “Shut up,” you muttered, nose scrunching up as you examined the wound. You assumed the bullet was still lodged in there somewhere, which meant you had to use the tweezers to get it out. “You’re lucky I care about you, or else I’d throw you back out on the street.”

       “Even after all this time, huh?” he said, looking at you as you slowly moved the tweezers towards the hole. “I thought you’d be pissed as hell and punch me in the dick or something when I showed up here.”

       “Oh trust me,” you replied, shoving the tweezers in the wound rather harshly before gripping the bullet and yanking it out, making him flinch and curse in pain, “I am definitely pissed and will not hesitate to punch you in the dick.”

       You placed the bloody bullet in the sink and quickly grabbed some gauze and cotton balls, wrapping the wound and creating pressure on it. You had to wrap your arms around his torso to properly secure the gauze, and fought the urge to blush. ‘I shouldn’t be this close to a cocky shirtless villain.’

       He laughed, but said nothing else as you finished tending to his wound and proceeded to back away, putting your hands on your hips. “Alright, I doubt you’ll die, so now tell me what the hell is going on.”

       He stood up from the chair and began heading back towards your bedroom. “Let me take a shower first, then we’ll talk.”

       You let out a groan. “Fine, don’t get blood on my white towels, moron.”

       He turned back to flash you a stupid grin before opening your bedroom door and shutting it behind him.

       You sat on the loveseat to wait, and eventually heard the water kick on from the master bathroom shower. It took another fifteen minutes for it to kick off.

       You turned towards your room door, ready to scold him again for showing up out of the blue, but the words got caught in your throat.

       He opened the door, a towel in his hands as he rubbed the water out of his hair, his lower half sporting a towel skirt and nothing else.

       You tried your best not to pay attention to the way droplets of water rolled down his chest, and made their way between each and every muscle before disappearing into the towel wrapped around his hips.

       You attempted not to notice how attractive his hair still was, despite being dyed black now, or how hot you still found him despite his new scars. They simply added more character to an already completely one of a kind person, and you bit your cheek. ‘God, why did I have to fall in love with him, and why am I still in love with him?’

       His voice broke you from your thoughts. “Are you done staring? I’m fuckin’ freezing. You got any clothes that would fit me?”

       You cleared your throat and patted your cheeks in an attempt to quench the redness. “In the bottom drawer of my dresser should be something. Just put your old clothes in the washer in the bathroom.”

       He gave a mock salute before walking back inside, a water puddle now on your floor from where he once stood.

       Standing up, you moved to your kitchen to grab a rag before wiping up the water, going to clean the blood off your entryway, as well. ‘God damn it, Touya.’

       After another five minutes, he walked out in a familiar pair of sweatpants and a band tee, a smirk on his face. “You kept my clothes? D’aww.”

       “Shut up and sit down,” you muttered, face flushed as you gestured to the couch across from the loveseat you sat in.

       “Okay, fine,” he replied before heading to the loveseat and picking you up bridal-style, sitting down and proceeding to set you on his lap. “There.”

       You let out a vaguely offended noise, flustered. “Hey! Just because we dated way back when we were teens doesn’t mean you can come in here and pretend like you didn’t disappear for years!”

       “Why not?” he replied, leaning back in the chair and wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you against him. He was warmer than you, despite just taking a shower, and you assumed his quirk kept him rather hot.

       You shook your head and attempted to lean forward, only to get pulled back once more. “Because, how do I know you’re the same person you were back then? What happened, Touya? Last I remember, you were nineteen and living with me, and then you suddenly vanish and never come back! You can’t do things like that!” The tears you shed in the kitchen returned full force, choking you up.

       “I told you, the name is Dabi now,” he mumbled, placing his chin atop your head and letting out a sigh. “And I have no excuses for what I’ve done. There’s nothing I can say to change what happened. I— ” he took in a breath, his normally cocky exterior shattering to reveal the true pain underneath—  “I’m sorry, princess— no, (Y/N). I’m so fucking sorry.”

       You heard his voice crack, and felt drops hit the top of your head. Neither of you spoke, just letting out all the bottled up emotions of the past few years.

       Eventually, you managed to stop crying long enough to pull your head away from his chest and look him in the eyes. He was already looking at you. You reached up and gently cupped his cheek, rubbing the purple skin which covered the lower half softly. “Does it hurt?”

       He shrugged. “I’m used to it.”

       You began to tear up again. “Is this my fault? Did I push you over the edge?”

       He immediately placed a hand atop yours, his other one hugging your waist tightly. “No!” he yelled, before clearing his throat. “No… You had nothing to do with this. I just— I snapped. I couldn’t take it. I couldn’t take him. He constantly reminded me I wasn’t good enough and I didn’t— ” he heaved out a breath—  “I didn’t deserve anything, much less someone like you.”  You knew exactly who he was.

       “Touya…”

       “I told you— ” you used your other hand to hold a finger to his mouth.

       “Hush. You’ll always be my Touya.”

       He gave you a half-hearted smile which turned into a playful smirk. “Your Touya?”

       You flushed. “Yes. You never broke up with me so technically we’re still dating, and you’re still my Touya.”

       He let out a soft snort. “God, I missed you,” he muttered, rubbing his thumb against your hand before leaning forward.

       You moved the finger against his lips to cup his other cheek, and copied his movements.

       Despite the roughness of his lips, the kiss was soft, and you could feel the old spark between you re-ignite.

       When you pulled away, his eyes were closed and he had a smile on his face. “I missed that, too.”

       You laughed.

       The beeping of a cell phone brought you both out of the moment, and he looked towards his jacket still hanging on the coat rack. “I need to get that, it’s probably that dick Shigaraki.”

       Your expression dulled. ‘Right, he’s a villain now.’

       He gathered you up in his arms before standing up and placing you back on the loveseat. He trudged to his coat, pulled out a phone and read the lit up screen. He glanced at you.

       You looked at him. He turned away, typing out a response before heading back towards you. “Are you leaving?” you asked, voice strangely monotone.

       “Not yet,” he replied, picking you up again to return to his original spot. “I told him to shove it for now.”

       “Won’t you get in trouble for that? I don’t want you getting punished because of me,” you said, voice now conveying your sadness.

       He shrugged and cuddled you closer, one of his hands reaching for the cup of hot chocolate on the side table to take a sip. “I don’t care. I’d go through the worst of whatever the world has to offer to stay like this,” he said, voice honest and content and sounding much like your Touya.

       The person before you now wasn’t quite like the Touya you knew, nor the Dabi, he was an odd combination, but you didn’t care. Your long lost lover was now back, and that was good enough for you. Sure, it might be wrong to still be in love with him, despite all the awful shit he's done since he's been gone, but you can't help it. When you love someone, you never really get rid of that feeling.

       You closed your eyes and began to drift off to sleep, but not before feeling a goodnight kiss against your forehead. You smiled. ‘Yeah, definitely good enough for me.’ You awoke to the smell of something burning, and your eyes quickly shot open as you tumbled out of bed. Your back hit the ground as you let out a groan, rubbing the sleepiness out of your eyes.

       Flashbacks of last night flashed in your mind and you shot up from the floor and ran to the kitchen.

       Smoke filled the kitchen, and you slid open the window above the sink for some fresh air.

       You spotted Touya amongst the fog, a pan filled with bacon and eggs sizzling on the stove.

       You nudged his shoulder and gestured to the smoke-filled room, coughing. “What the fuck are you making over there, fire?”

       “It’s been a while since I’ve made you breakfast, alright? Give me a break,” he said, turning off the burner and sliding the bacon and eggs onto two different plates.

       You closed your eyes for a moment. “You didn’t have to—  I didn’t ask you to. Honestly, I thought you’d have left while I was asleep.”

       He grabbed both plates and set them down on the bar counter before sliding into a seat. “Do you want me gone that bad?” he asked, smirking.

       “No! I— ” you cleared your throat—  “I mean, I just assumed you had villain things to attend to and such.”

       He let out a laugh. “Villain things? What does that even mean?”

       “I don’t know,” you replied, puffing your cheeks out in anger. “I just meant I didn’t expect you to stay. It still doesn’t feel real. I— I thought you were dead!” Despite you trying not to, you started to sniffle, making him frown. “It feels like you’re back from the dead! I attended a funeral for you! I said my goodbyes and yet here you are!” At this point, tears streamed down your face as you held your arms against your chest. “I can tell you want things to go back to the way they were, but that can’t happen! Things have changed too much…”

       He stood up from the stool and walked over, wrapping his arms around you. He smelt like burnt food, and you let out a small laugh. He was trying his hardest to win your affections back, but you couldn’t help but hesitate. “Nothing I can say will ever make what I’ve done okay—  I know that. I just—  I can’t just walk away now, either. You’re the only person I have left who knows I’m still alive, and I’m still in love with you, (Y/N).”

       You buried your face into the old band tee he was wearing, moving your arms to wrap around his waist tightly. “I just don’t want to get my hopes up. I’m happier than I’ve been in a while, but what if you leave today and never come back?”

       He moved a hand to softly grip your chin, and brought your head up to make eye contact. “Look at me, princess, I won’t abandon you, not again. Not ever again.”

       Your lips formed a hesitant smile. “How can you say that? You could die and I wouldn’t know. I hate the fact that you’re a villain, Touya. I hate it so so much and I— I wish you could stay with me forever instead of going back there.” You shook your head, pulling away from his grasp and taking a seat on a stool. “But I know that this is a choice you made for valid reasons, and I couldn’t ask you to drop everything. Let’s just— I guess, enjoy the time we have now, and figure everything out later.”

       He took a seat beside you, and you two ate in silence. Everything tasted vaguely like smoke, and you let out a sigh. He still sucked at cooking.

       “I moved you to your bed, by the way,” he spoke up in between bites. “I slept on the couch.”

       You glanced at him, rolling your eyes. “My bed is more than big enough for two, moron.”

       “I see your caring nicknames haven’t changed,” he said, grabbing both now-empty plates to bring them to the sink. “Would it hurt to call me something nice for a change?”

       “Oh sorry,” you said sarcastically. “What names should I be calling you?”

       He looked over his shoulder, hands still scrubbing the dishes. “Oh, I don’t know, your knight in shining armor, babe, sweetie, the best sex you’ve ever-”

       You interrupted his monologue by throwing an apple from the fruit bowl at him, face red. “Shut up… moron.”

       He frowned. “That wasn’t very nice.”

       “It wasn’t supposed to be, now stop cleaning the dishes like you live here. I can do it.” When you got up and attempted to push him aside, he didn’t budge. “Would you just sit down, moron? I got it!”

       “No.”

       You let out an exasperated sigh before grabbing him by his shoulders and looking him in the eye. “Would you just sit down, babe? I got it.”

       “Better, but no.”

       You smacked his chest before crossing your arms. “I’m not saying the last one, now move.”

       He opened the dishwasher before placing the dirty dishes inside. “Too late, I’m already done.”

       You simply threw your arms up in surrender before trudging to the living room and taking a seat on the couch.

       Within moments, a body was next to you. You glanced beside you to see Touya sitting with his elbows on his knees, staring boredly at the black television. “What now?”

       “I’m assuming you now have to leave, being that you told your superior to shove it last night and they’re probably a bit pissed.”

       “You just can’t wait to get rid of me, huh?” he said, annoyance lacing his tone.

       “Okay, fine, get in trouble, see if I care.” You pouted, bringing your knees up and wrapping your arms around them.

       You felt him wrap his arms around you. He kissed your ear. “Let’s do something. I’ll leave soon, just not yet.”

       You pushed him away. “Like what? By the time we figure out where to go you’ll have to leave.”

       “Who says we can’t do something here?”

       You rose a brow, which prompted him to pull you into his lap, his lips quickly meeting your neck. You flushed red, a shiver going down your spine at the coldness of the staples against your skin. “We haven’t seen each other in years, and your first idea of something to do is fuck?”

       He pulled away. “Uhh, yeah?”

       “Wow. Classy.” You stood up, despite his grip on your waist telling you not to, and turned to face him. “We should go on a walk.”

       His face fell. He blinked at you. “Seriously?”

       “Yes!” you grabbed his hands and pulled him up. “Like we used to do! I miss walks.”

       He sighed, but nodded nonetheless. “You sound like a dog, but alright. Only for you.”

       You smiled and went to put on warm clothes.

       Eventually, you two made it outside dressed in fall clothes. After last night’s rain, puddles formed on the sidewalk and you stepped in them as you walked, observing the falling leaves.

       Your arms were wrapped around one of his, one of your hands holding his. A sense of Deja Vu washed over you, and a light blush permanently dusted your cheeks. Having him back, even for a day, made you happier than you’d ever been before, and you weren’t ready for him to leave.

       After walking only three blocks, a ping sounded from his pocket, and he looked at the screen of his phone before scowling. “Damn it.”

       “Hmm?”

       “I gotta go.”

       You stopped walking, giving him a sad smile. “Oh. Do you know when you’ll be back? I’ll sorta miss you.”

       He laughed, leaning forward to kiss your forehead before smiling. “I’ll sorta miss you too, princess. I’ll be back as soon as I can, just don’t assume I’m dead, alright?”

       You smacked his arm. “That was one time! And being you were gone for years, I had a right to!”

       He grabbed your wrists, pulling you in for a hug. “I know. Just— wait for me. I promise you I’ll be back.”

       You slipped out of his grasp and stood on your tiptoes, wrapping your arms around his neck. “You better be, moron.”

       After a last kiss goodbye, he shot you a wink before beginning to trek forward, leaving you standing on the sidewalk with a soft smile and tears in your eyes.

       ‘God damn it. I just had to go catch feelings again. Stupid Touya. Stupid me.’

       You crossed your arms, shaking your head. “If he doesn’t come back alive, I’ll kill him.”

       With those words, you turned to walk back to your house, leaves crunching underneath you.

[bunnirs]

Someone To Fight For

Y/N L/N is the last remaining Kurta, fueled by hatred for the Phantom Troupe. They’ll do anything to eradicate their existence, even if it means dying in the process.

Kurapika Kurta X Reader

Word Count: 3,353

Your motives were clear as day. Kill the Phantom Troupe, and then yourself.

Murder was something you weren’t proud of, and would never be. That is why, to atone for your sins, you would end your life after you murdered the very people who slaughtered your tribe.

The Kurta were known to be peaceful. They were stubborn, but truly harmless. That’s why they never stood a chance against the Phantom Troupe. What or Who is the Phantom Troupe you ask? It’s a group of disgusting lowlife thieves who steal whatever they lay their eyes on. At that time, it had been the Scarlet eyes that defined your Tribe.

How you escaped was beyond your luck. They must not have noticed that you slipped away, running for your life. It must have been the fact that they were too busy gouging out the eyes of your tribe, your family. Maybe your people’s screams were so loud they couldn’t hear your sobbing, or maybe they didn’t care. Afterall, you were only a child.

That was the day you realized that your world would never be the same. That was the day you realized that you would never be able to walk freely without knowing that they were dead. So you trained, you killed, and you bled. You cried during your sleep as your nightmares materialized the very bodies of your fallen comrades, their eyes filled with endless black voids, forever missing.

As you grew up, you became stronger than you would’ve imagined. Your rage had grown over the years, silencing the screams of your past. Even as they calmed, they still rang in your ears. The begging, the crying, the screaming. It all stuck, only to be relieved at the death of their oppressors.

As the last Kurta, you had to fulfill their wish, or die trying.

That led you to now, as you stood on the roof of an abandoned building on the quieter side of Yorknew City. You had been tracking the Phantom Troupe for days now as they gathered around the Auction that was to last through September. It was the perfect time, seeing as the troupe seemed to separate regularly to satisfy their needs. You just had to pick them off one by one.

Even if their abilities were a secret, you had gotten to know their personalities and that was enough.

The numbers of whom you were watching, were #1 and #3, also known as Nobunaga and Machi. They didn’t seem to be the most dangerous of the Spiders, but even so, you could NEVER underestimate them. These monsters killed your people after all, and that wasn’t the easiest task.

Hours into your endeavor, you began to notice that you were not alone. Two more people had joined you in stalking the troupe members. From the looks of it, they seemed to be two ordinary children, besides the fact that they could effortlessly hide their aura. Would it be enough to stay hidden from their victims? Probably not.

That’s all it took for you to get closer to the two troupe members, almost afraid that the kids would get to them first. You were not afraid for yourself, no, more for them than anything. If they got noticed, they could easily be hurt, or worse, killed. It didn’t matter who killed them, it could very well be you. If they got in your way, you may not be able to restrain yourself. You had been planning this for months, and if they ruined it now, you’d be beyond pissed.

More time had passed, but that didn’t matter. Everything seemed to go by in seconds for you, your heart almost beating out of your chest as the two of the children disappeared into separate buildings. You grew nervous, hoping to whatever god there was, that the children knew what they were doing. But your prayers went unanswered, seeing as the two troupe members, Machi and Nobunaga, caught on to the children’s aura, disappearing into the very building the children had hidden in.

That’s when you decided to throw in the towel. You couldn’t stay hidden and wait till they disposed of the children, you needed to do something, and the human in you begged to help. And that’s what you did. You jumped from roof to roof, landing on the building the green boy had gone in. As soon as you landed on the ceiling, you jumped off the edge, swinging yourself through the window. As soon as you did that, your feet had met the back of the pink haired troupe member, Machi.

Much to your dismay, Troupe Member #9, Pakunoda, was also present, blocking the doorway of the child. That really pissed you off. You hadn’t noticed her, and she could’ve been tailing you this whole time, but that didn’t seem to be the case. Her aura was also joined by another, making four troupe members present. The other was most likely taking care of the other child, alongside Nobunaga.

As you disregarded your realization, you grabbed the child’s arm, skidding to the other side of the room, glancing between Pakunoda and Machi, whose face was still plastered into the ground.

“Who are you?” The boy asked, his voice in a low whisper, obviously skeptical of you.

“Your friend.” You murmured, letting go of his arm as it tensed. Hoping he got the hint, you stepped in front of him, almost in a protective stance. “Honestly, I thought I warned you about sneaking up on people.” You glanced at him, winking, hoping to god he wasn’t as dense as he looked.

He seemed to understand, nodding his head firmly. He let out a nervous laugh, putting his hand on his neck, scratching it. “I’m sorry, I just got carried away! They were worth a lot of money.. and me and Killua couldn’t resist!”

“You really are an idiot..” You grimaced, hitting his head softly, mentally kicking yourself for the display of affection. So they were in this for money.. how.. unoriginal. Of course they had bounties on their head, it wasn’t a surprise to you. They were crazed thieves who picked fights with the mafia, so it was a no brainer they pissed people off. But for kids to get involved? That was a load of bullshit.

Through the conversation you had with Gon, Machi had pushed herself up, dusting off her outfit and holding her nose. It definitely looked bruised, if not broken. This wasn’t going to be easy to get out of.

“So, you two.. know each other?” She questioned, an eyebrow raised. “I knew there were two of you, but I had no idea there was a third. Bad judgment on my part. Paku, we have room in the car for three right?”

Pakunoda hummed, nodding a yes to her question. “So they’re after us because of money? Seems a little… risky don’t you think?”

“Kids are kids.” Machi looked at her, and then stared directly at you. “We won’t have another problem will we? I really don’t want to have to kill you in front of a child.”

“The same goes to you.” You responded, shifting your weight to your other leg, crossing your arms. “So, what's this I hear about a car?”

“Well, we’re obviously not going to let you go.” Machi glanced between Gon and you, a small smirk growing on her face. “We’ll bring you back and let the boss decide on what to do with you.”

You only shrugged, glancing at the kid, whose eyes widened. You could guess he didn’t expect to get caught. You almost laughed as you ruffled his hair, hoping to comfort him. You wouldn’t let anything bad happen to him and his friend, that was for sure.

As you were loaded into the car, you could tell the white haired boy, known as Killua, was questioning your well-being. You wouldn’t blame him, not at all. You’re messing with dangerous people, and you can’t expect to trust anyone. The kid that you helped seemed to look at his friend, almost having a conversation with their eyes. That’s all it took for Killua to glance back at you, his eyes losing their hostility, and a small smile formed.

That quickly vanished when the members of the Troupe began to speak. You blocked them out, staring out of the window, watching the surrounding area become less urban. You were sure they said something regarding you, but you couldn’t care less to listen. They didn’t deserve your attention. Not now at least. You were sure that you ticked them off, seeing as one of them kept glaring at you. You hadn’t done anything yet and they were already tired of you. Good.

Time seemed irrelevant now, as everything seemed to go as it came. You were now in the base of the Phantom Troupe, the Spider tattooed freaks who slaughtered your people just for the sake of their eyes. You almost wanted to throw up as you looked at them, they weren’t scary...just ugly.

To your dismay, they decided to take the kid whose name was Gon, and force him to arm wrestle the members. You could tell he was in pain, and no matter what his friend tried to do, the Troupe was one step ahead.

What was odd, was the fact that Nobunaga was hellbent on letting the kids join. What was in store for you? You had no idea, and you didn’t care. You only leaned against the wall, picking at your fingernails, making sure they were in a clean disposition. Some of the troop members watched you, and that only made your smile widen. You hoped they remembered every inch of your face, so they could be haunted by it even in death.

“So, Pakunoda, when you scanned the three of them… what did you see?” One of the members who you recognized as Feitan Portor, Troupe member #2, asked. He said it while looking at you, holding Gon by his arms, his body bent over the table. To you, it looked wrong, but you couldn’t really suppress your opinion.

“They don’t know each other.” Pakunoda said, your eyes widening as you stared at her. Her power must be something like reading minds.. or seeing people’s memories.

“That’s odd, they pretended too.” Machi said, her voice laced with amusement. “So, you just pretended to know him?” She said, moving her gaze towards you.

“Yeah.” You said blatantly, dropping your hand from your face, the dirt now removed. “I have no idea who these kids are. What I do know, is that you guys are going to die. Doesn’t have to be today, but it will happen. I’ll make sure of it.”

They all stopped what they were doing, staring at you. Killua and Gon had stopped breathing for a second, their eyes widening as they stared at you. Wrong move.

The Spiders turned to each other, laughter erupting from their throats. It would have bothered you had you been cornered, but you knew how to deal with them. You had trained for four years, just to kill them. It wasn’t going to stop now.

“No one’s that stupid to openly admit to wanting to kill us… so you either must be stupidly strong… or just stupid in general.” Feitan said again, tightening his grip on Gon.

“Call it what you want.” You said, sliding down to the ground, your back to the wall. “But this is a warning.” Your eyes narrowed, glancing at the members. “You don’t know who I am, but I know all about you. Do what you want with that of course.” You leaned your head back, looking at the ceiling before closing your eyes. Your aura vanished, and your eyes narrowed, a red glow emitting from them. “Just know that I’m always watching.” After that, the red vanished, and you closed your eyes.

Of course anyone in a situation like this would never willingly fall asleep, seeing as you are open and vulnerable. But of course, you weren’t normal. Your nen ability was perfect for this situation.

You called your Nen Ability: Relentless Increase. The more someone damaged you, the stronger and more immune you became. This caused a huge amount of power to build up inside of you, leaving you stronger than ever. Torture didn’t work on you, seeing as halfway through it, you were numb to the feeling and could easily overtake your assailant. So with this, you could easily stand by while the Troupe watched you. Of course, they had no idea about what you could do, so it was smart to stand by.

Your instincts were proven true, seeing as they didn’t even try to touch you. Instead, most of the members left, leaving you with the two kids and Nobunaga. It almost irritated you. This Nobunaga dude seems confident in his skills, thinking he could take care of the three of you if you tried to escape. Of course, the children proved him wrong.

They had a plan up their sleeve, and it actually worked. While you sat in the room, they broke through the wall, running in opposite directions. Since you didn’t follow their example, Nobunaga seemed to trust you. First mistake on his part.

When he left you unsupervised, you took the opportunity to break out yourself. By the time he had lost the kids, you were long gone. As you ran, you expected someone to come after you, but instead, you found the kids high tailing it out of the surrounding fence. You laughed a little, running alongside them for a while. They seemed to be high in spirit, despite the fact that they were just held against their will by a dangerous group of thieves. Kids these days never failed to surprise you.

Sure, your plan failed, but at least you got knowledge on the Troupe, as well as two kids who might know something important about them too.

On your walk into YorkNew, the three of you had made small talk, getting to know each other. It seemed to be a smooth conversation, until Killua brought up your eyes

“So… Y/N.” Killua narrowed his eyes, focusing on the ground in front of him, his hands fumbling in his pockets. “Your eyes…”

“Ah yes.” You mused, kicking a loose stone from in front of you. “What about them?”

“When they turned red…. are you by chance…?” He didn’t finish, finding the conversation almost too awkward to continue. He didn’t want to press any wrong buttons with you.

“A Kurta?” You finished for him, your eyes slightly narrowing at the word. “Yes. The last one.” You could feel the water building up in your eyes, threatening to spill.

“No you're not.” Gon said suddenly, confusion lacing his tone of voice.

That shocked you, causing you to choke on the saliva that built up in your throat. The tears in your eyes were forced out, and you suddenly fell to your knees, uncontrollable sobs leaving your throat.

“Great going Gon! Look what you did you idiot!” Killua berated him, hitting him across the head.

You clenched your fists, the sand and dirt from the road coated your palms. You began to laugh as your tears fell, washing away the loose build up on your knuckles. For the first time in a while, a genuine smile formed on your lips, your laugh gaining in hysterics. You looked crazy, but at that moment, you didn’t care. You weren’t alone.

“...I think.. we broke her.” Gon muttered.

“We?! I didn’t do anything!” Killua yelled in his face, pointing at you.

“Well you brought it up!” Gon reprimanded, knocking his hand away from you.

You slowly stood up, your legs shaking, tears continuing to fall from your face. You raised your dirt covered arm, wiping the liquid from your face, grime replacing it. “S-so… where is this… other Kurta?”

“Oh, right! Kurapika is in Yorknew right now!” Gon smiled, pointing at the city on the horizon. “He’s actually our friend! And to be honest, we were just about to go see him!”

Your face brightened, the setting sun shining down on you. “...Can I… can I join you?”

Killua and Gon stayed quiet for a moment, before large grins appeared on their faces.

“I don’t see why not. As long as you're not an idiot, you should be just fine. There’s only room for one of those around here.” He giggled, poking Gon in the side.

“Yeah! We’d love for you to join us!” Gon gave you a thumbs up, before looking over at Killua. “Wait Killua, what’s that supposed to mean?!”

“Nothing! Come on slowpoke!” Killua yelled, running ahead of the two of you.

“Oh you’re so on!” Gon cheered, running after him, before skidding to a stop, looking back at you. “Come on! Wouldn’t want to lose ya!”

“Are you calling me slow?” You inquired, raising an eyebrow. “Well then, I suppose I don’t want to get lost.” You rolled your eyes, playing along with him. That’s when you started to run alongside Gon, laughing as he tried to tag Killua.

A few days passed, and it was the day that Kurapika was meeting up with Gon and Killua. It was the day that you’d finally get to see another Kurta, after four long years.

The day seemed to go on forever, only getting slower as the time grew near. Time never liked you it seemed. It made important, peaceful moments go by so fast you couldn’t even keep track of everything. But when you wanted to get over with something, it seemed to slow down just to spite you. It took four years just for you to learn that you weren’t alone, and maybe it’ll take forever just to see him. But In all honesty.. you could wait decades if it meant restoring the missing piece in your soul.

The time finally came around, and you finally saw him. He was tall, blonde, and had dark eyes. You could tell they were contacts, seeing as nothing could compare to the natural beauty of a Kurta’s irises. Just by the look of him, you already felt the welcoming warmth of home.

He made eye contact with you, and for a split second he became confused. That vanished when he saw the tears spilling from your eyes, and the red creeping up onto your normally dark irises. From the overbearing emotion you felt, your true scarlet eyes revealed themselves to him, and that was all it took for him to come running towards you.

He enveloped you into a hug, it was so tight that he was afraid you would vanish before his eyes. But you were there.. and you were real. Your eyes were real.

“....Kurapika..” you managed to breathe out, the air being stolen from you as he smothered you.

He immediately let go, letting out a formal apology. “I- I’m sorry..” he muttered, his face red from embarrassment. “I just got…”

“Overwhelmed?” You finished the sentence for him, a small smile creeping onto your face.

“Yeah.. that’s the word.” He said sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck.

You giggled, finding his reaction amusing. “I understand completely.”

Killua and Gon were giggling as they whispered to each other, the two of them running off a split second later. That left the two of you alone.

“Do you want to.. catch up?” He suddenly said, ignoring the two boys that had left in a hurry. He knew they had done this on purpose, and he was thankful. For once he was glad they left, because now, he had you.

“You know what...” You smiled, your hand on your chin as you pretended to think of an answer. “I’d like that.”

Just for a moment, your rage had softened.. and you had someone to live for.

Taglist:

@tokoyamis-luv @imsloan

[look-ma-im-on-tv]

Crying

Dark Side!Roman

AO3 Link

Warnings: Self-harm by hitting, descriptions of anxiety, yelling, caps, let me know of any I need to add!

Description: Hurt/Comfort. Roman is devastated, and all he seems to do is make things worse, so he takes himself out of the situation. And since his feelings seem to make everything worse, he gets rid of those too.

Pairings: Familial... everyone I don't remember what that's called anymore.

I was possessed to write this I stg.

Crying.

Roman felt tears streaming down his face. Everyone just stared at him, curious expressions, but he couldn’t recognize even a hint of concern on their faces. He was frozen, unmoving, chains pulling every part of him down and tying him to the floor. His feet couldn’t lift, his lips couldn’t form words, his lungs couldn’t take in air. He was waiting for something but he didn’t know what. Permission to leave? For everyone else to leave? He wouldn’t know until it happened, and until that point, he was stuck here watching everyone stare at him.

Someone started to speak. To criticise him, he was sure, though he couldn’t make out their words through the fog in Roman’s head. The only thing he could do was fight at the invisible chains, desperately hoping that he’d leave. He was making a fool of himself, sitting here, crying. Just crying. Over his own damn mistake. The tips of his fingers tingled numbly. His short fast breathing felt as if it threatened to rip him apart.

Roman was shaking. He needed out. He needed free. He ripped at his arms, and finally convinced himself to sink out as fast as he could, knocking the breath out of himself in the process.

Roman’s familiar room carpet felt rough under his palms, scratchy, digging, too much. He yanked his hands up to his chest as fast as he could, kneeling on the floor of his room. A sob escaped him, with a wave of tears following. Roman sneered at himself. He was being such a bad person. He just had to run away. After something that was entirely his fault. How could he do this to them? He only ever made everything worse, he knew it. He felt his hand make a sharp movement, and a harsh thud against his thigh. Roman curled in from the pain. He felt his own eyes gloss over, tears suddenly stopping. He fell down onto his side, the rough carpet digging into his cheek.

He laid there, nearly unmoving, for hours or minutes. He couldn’t tell. Every time he felt stinging in his eyelids, from whatever painful thought came to his mind, a more painful thud followed. Harsh thoughts came by, they really don’t want you anyways; they’re happy you’re gone; they barely put up with you already, why would they come for you?

You’re just a villain.

Roman cried out, curling tighter into himself. The thought felt like a blade plunging into his chest. The world around him darkened in his vision, he was gasping for breath. He could barely feel himself move. It felt like he was dying.

Thud, thud, thud.

His tears kept coming, for so long. He kept crying. Sometimes he would completely fall apart, sobbing and screaming, then just as suddenly as it came on, it would stop. He’d lay there on the floor, silent, limbs throbbing with pain.

Roman felt bruises developing and smiled dryly. Eventually, everything slowed. And everything stopped. He could feel his heart beating and slowing in his chest. His fingers, his hands, felt numb. Felt separate from him. He held his hands out in front of him and noticed absently that a deep black color was bleeding out from the center of his palms and from each of his knuckles. His eyes burned every time he blinked. He shut his eyes tight, thick tears wetting his eyelashes once more. But this time, there was nothing behind them, no feeling, and no thud following.

Roman opened his eyes and from the small amount of his room he could see, he realized he couldn’t stand any of this anymore. His noble decorations, his stark white outfit, the royal red he once so admired; it all made him sick. Without moving a muscle, it all suddenly began to change. The little crowns and stars and hearts cracked in two. A black ink spot began in the middle of his chest, spreading in every direction until it reached the cuffs of his sleeves and the hems of his pants. And the red in his room bled out, disappearing and leaving only a dark grey behind. Roman managed a glance around the room, and was almost pleased with it all. It was far more fitting than the mirage he previously had surrounding him.

At the head of the room was a single chair. It replaced any other furnishing that was previously in the room. A lavish chair, black, and with shining gold decorations. Roman could just spot it out of the corner of his eye. And before he could even blink, he was sitting upright in it, one leg crossed over the other.

And like before, Roman was chained. But it was different this time. He didn’t want to escape. He didn’t feel the panic, the fear, the pain. And he knew what he was waiting for this time. Even if he wasn’t fully sure it was ever going to happen.

He was waiting for them. Whether they would be coming to stop him or save him didn’t matter, though the latter seemed very impossible. Roman was going to stay out of things. He wasn’t going to come and ruin things for everyone. However, if there was any chance they may come for him, he may as well look presentable.

Roman hadn’t come back. Everyone tried their best to give him his space, they weren’t sure what else to do. But usually, if someone needed space, they came back after a day or two. But it had been weeks, and everyone was sick of waiting.

“He can’t just not come back. Thomas needs more than half of his creativity. This is becoming a problem. How selfish does he have to-”

“Virgil, be patient with him.” Logan corrected him. “If he requires time alone, we should let him have it.”

“I know. I’m just…”

“Angry. I understand. But we must give him his time.”

“But-!” Patton shouted, “we can’t just leave him you guys! What if he’s hurt?”

Remus nodded. “Daddy here’s right, I’m not just leaving him with his thoughts. He’s not even letting me get to him through the imagination, it’s like he’s just… vanished.”

“Yeah! I’d want someone to come and try to care for me if I felt bad.” Patton continued.

Logan cocked his head to the side. “Well, that seems to be a tied vote. Janus? Do you have an opinion of your own that you might like to share?”

Janus raised his eyebrows. “Me?” He hummed. “I could get used to this. I suppose we should check on him. I mean, there is no chance he’s actually wanting us to come but is simply too afraid to ask.”

“Three to two. I suppose we can go check on him, so long as we do our best not to intrude.”

“Field trip!” Remus giggled.

Virgil groaned. “Can’t you at least try to take this seriously?”

Remus stopped in his tracks and turned to him with a completely stoic face. “No.” He shook his head. “No.” And as if the conversation never happened, he continued skipping away with a manic smile towards Roman’s room while everyone else sank out.

They all gathered in front of Roman’s room.

Patton gasped. “Is that his door?”

“It’s where it used to be, but…”

“It’s currently black, that’s odd. Why would his door change colors?”

“Well, that explains a lot for me at least! It’s been a pain in the ass to keep re-dying this!” Remus shouted, just approaching. But, suddenly he was different. His outfit adorned the bright white of Roman’s, and the green was slowly trying to fade into red.

Virgil nearly lunged at him. “What? You didn’t think to tell us anything about this? What, did you think it was funny?”

“Well, this is clearly far more significant than I originally assumed. Since you two are connected, this is likely an effect sourcing from Roman himself. We need to get in there immediately.”

Patton started urgently knocking on the door, poorly feigning calmness. “Roman? Kiddo? What’s up in there? Can you let us in?”

Janus rolled his eyes. “Knocking is definitely the best strategy.”

“Well, what else should we do? It’s not like we can just break-”

“Remus, will you please break down the door?”

Before Janus could even finish his sentence, Remus already had his morning star raised and ready to strike. He swung it down, and a huge crack! came from the wood splintering. It wasn’t broken yet. Remus swung again, and again, tears beginning to pool in his eyes with every hit.

“Just! Let! Us! In!” Remus swung again, and the door gave way, making Remus fall through the pieces with the remaining force of his swing. He sat on the floor of his brother’s room, if you could even tell that’s what it was. It looked completely different.

Everyone else spilled in behind Remus, and stopped. The room was all black, with all sorts of the old decorations, papers, crafts, everything torn up and thrown across the floor. It was nearly impossible to see anything it was so dark, if it weren’t for the golden glow coming from across the room. In the center of the glow was a black throne, a dark figure sitting in it.

“Roman?”

His clothes were entirely black, save for some gold trim. And his face had dark black tear streaks that looked like flowing rivers of tar on his cheeks. His hands were pitch black and disconnected at the wrists. And the only trace of emotion on his face was a staged, cold smile.

“I’ve been waiting.”

Remus stood, weapon at the ready. “What have you done with my brother!?” he screeched.

“What are you talking about? I am your brother. The only difference is that I’m not pretending that I’m the hero anymore. That was a stupid idea to begin with, so I’m sure you understand.” His voice was monotone, with no trace of feeling or emotion, just flat and dead.

Patton’s own tears started spilling over. “What are you talking about? You are a hero, Roman! What happened?”

“I realized the truth. I make problems. Impulse decisions that hurt Thomas, because I felt too much. I was too emotional. So I took my feelings, and myself, out of it.”

“Emotions are an important part of Thomas, Roman. You should understand that.”

“No, you should understand, Logan. Thomas’ emotions are important. Not the ones I put into everything.” Roman’s hand waved away the conversation. “Besides, he’s got a different creativity, why would he need two? You seem to be doing so much better with me gone. You’re not fighting as much.”

“Bitch, I can’t be the only creativity! You know we had things the way we did for a reason, asshole! Now give me my brother back!”

“You are an integral part of Thomas as you were, Roman.”

“Roman, please! You know that’s not true!”

The scattered objects surrounding them flew up into the air and started spinning. “QUIET!” Roman shouted. “You’re all WRONG!”

The right hand, completely separate from Roman himself, curled up into a fist and slammed into the side of his face. Remus lunged at him, but was suddenly ripped back and thrown towards the back of the wall. Roman gasped, then returned to a completely stoic expression.

Roman’s eyes had a tinge of concern. “Remus? Are you hurt?”

Remus was already standing again. “No. Not at all, no thanks to you, dickwad!” He started to charge again, barely reaching the same point before he was thrown backward again.

“It’s not exactly… Well, it shouldn’t hurt anyways. But you can’t get too close. I can’t let you.”

“What did you want us here for if you won’t even let us approach?”

“I was just waiting in case you came. I didn’t expect you to. I guess it’s just a chance for you to know where I ended up. If you want, you can leave now.”

Virgil mustered everything he could and took a step forward. “We’re not gonna abandon you, princey. Not like this.”

“And what’s wrong with ‘this?’ I like ‘this’ perfectly fine, you can go.”

Janus stepped forward with Virgil. “We both know that isn’t the truth. This isn’t a solution to feeling bad. This is only hurting you more.”

“Why would you want to help me? Either of you?” Roman shook his head. “And anyway, that’s the thing. I don’t feel bad. I can’t now. It’s perfect. I can’t make those mistakes anymore. I won’t call either of you names, because I have no feelings to make me lash out. It’s perfect.”

“But you can’t feel good either, Roman!” Patton pleaded. “There’s a reason we have emotions, don’t you like feeling happy?”

“I…” Something flickered in his eyes. “Even ‘good’ feelings only caused problems. Those are the ones that made me choose things that would only be bad for Thomas. Like… a chance in a lifetime callback.” He chuckled dryly, his breath catching partway through. His expression changed, a frown and furrowed brows. “I…” The hands curled up and pressed into his eyes. Then, just as suddenly as he had started, he shot back up into the same pose and expression as before. It was almost as if it was a whole other person sitting there. “I promise, I’ve thought this through. It’s the best option for everyone.”

“Well, we didn’t exactly get to vote on it, did we?”

Roman laughed. “Are you kidding me? Why are you all trying to stop this? You have to pick one you know! You can’t just want me there when it’s convenient for you! All I did was make mistakes, so I took myself out of it! And now… That’s a mistake too? No! No, you’re wrong. I know what I’m doing. I’m helping!” A tear spilled out of his eye, and he winced in anticipation. Thud. Thud. Thud.

With every hit, someone ran forward, trying to stop it before just being tossed backward. It wasn’t supposed to hurt them, but Roman couldn’t focus enough to be gentle. Patton, Remus, and Virgil lay at the back of the room, the breath knocked out of their lungs.

Logan and Janus stood still in the middle of the room.

Roman’s head shot up, the hands returning next to his wrists. His face was covered even more in the thick tear streaks. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…” His voice was cracking with the effort to keep it steady. “You need to leave. All of you. I thought that I was better already, but I’m not. If you ever want to visit you- no. No, you can’t visit. That’ll make things worse. So just… Get out.”

“We aren’t leaving you, Roman.”

“It can be tempting to shut yourself away from the world, and away from feelings and emotions, however, you need to realize that this isn’t healthy.”

He shook his head. “Stop telling me I’m wrong. I don’t care what you think, you just need to leave.”

“Roman, none of us are bad, including you. You just need to-”

“I said STOP! You’re making things worse by being in here. If you won’t leave on your own I’ll make you leave. Why won’t you just listen to me? It’s for your own good!”

Logan started, “Roman, we-” and disappeared.

“What did you do with him?” Janus demanded.

“He’s not hurt! I just... sent him to his room and closed the door.” He paused for a moment. “Goodbye.”

And Janus disappeared too. Remus, Virgil, and Patton sat up against the wall furthest from Roman.

“You have to leave too. I’m sorry. Bye.”

“Wait!” Patton shouted. “Roman?”

He froze. “What? You can’t convince me to stop this.”

“I think I know that. But for what it’s worth… You’re my hero, Roman. I’ll see ya later.” Patton turned to the other two and smiled. “Good luck, I think you got this. You can get through to him I’m sure.” Patton sunk out.

The room got darker, and Roman’s hands clasped over his ears. “No! No, you can’t just-!” He shook his head, his breathing erratic.

Virgil and Remus nodded to each other, and Virgil stood up.

“Roman? Can you hear me?”

“Quiet! You can’t-!”

“I know. It’s scary. Trust me, I get that. But it’s okay! You can feel bad!”

“No!”

“Yes, you can! You’re strong enough.”

Thick tears poured down his face. “I- It just ruins things!”

“I know what that feels like! But even the parts you think are bad are important.”

“You don’t-”

Virgil took a few steps forward. “Yes, I do! Roman, I’ve ducked out! I know what you’re going through! But you’re just as important as everyone else, emotions and all. You do a lot of good for Thomas. For everyone!”

A sob broke through. “I don’t-”

“Yes you do, Roman. You’re so important. And we care about- no, we love you, Roman. You’re part of the family. You know that.”

“I’m… You… No! I can’t-!” The hands raised up, ready to strike, but stopped in their place. Roman blinked, and Virgil disappeared.

Remus stood. “Virgil? Shit!” It was his turn now. He stepped closer. “Shit, shit, shit!”

Roman’s head snapped up, the hands lowering. “Remus? You’re… still here?”

“Of course I am! Now cut this shit out!”

“What… no, no, I’m not going to. I have to keep this.”

“Why? It’s ridiculous!”

“No, it’s not! It’s helping!”

Remus took another step. “How is this supposed to be helping? You just threw me against a wall!”

“That was an accident! I didn’t-”

Remus groaned. “It’s fine. Just stop all this.”

Roman cried, “I can’t!” His head hung down. “I can’t stop any of this!”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s… safe! If I just stay in here and don’t feel anything, and you all stay out, no one can get hurt!”

He just had to get close enough. “Getting hurt is part of life, dumbass! But it’s worth it because so is everything else. You get to be happy, you get to have people who care for you!”

“They don’t really ca-”

“Don’t finish that fucking sentence, you know that’s a goddamn lie! Why else would we come here?” Remus sighed and shook his head, tears stinging his eyes. “Ro-bro, we care about you a lot. No one wants to leave you here to rot.”

“Ro… You haven’t called me that in years.”

He was almost there. “We’ve both fucked up, okay? Just cause we’re different doesn’t mean we should fucking fight about it.”

Roman didn’t respond. Remus stepped closer.

“It’s okay. We’ll figure that out later, when you’re back.”

“I just don’t want to be the bad guy. I’m sorry that I made you take that role.”

“I know you don’t. You’re not the bad guy. Neither of us are.” He was close enough now. “Roman, you can still be the hero.” Remus kneeled in front of the throne, tears spilling down his own face. “You just need to come back, Ro-bro. It’ll be okay.”

Roman smiled sadly and limply collapsed into Remus, his own hands clutched to his chest. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. You’re okay now.”

“Please… please don’t leave me alone.”

“I’m not going to, Ro-bro.” Roman closed his eyes.

The door behind them swung open, smacking the wall next to it. Virgil, Patton, Logan, and Janus came running through. The brothers were back to their proper colors.

Virgil hesitated. “Is he… okay?”

Remus wiped his face. “Yeah, I think he will be. Let’s get him out of this shithole though, he’s been here for long enough.”

Remus stood up and carried Roman to the door. Everyone else stood there.

“What… happened?”

“A lot. But he’s better now. Meet you all downstairs at the couch. Don’t come empty-handed, it’s movie night.” And he walked away.

Virgil and Janus brought down as many blankets and pillows as they could find; Logan grabbed the movies and a special weighted blanket for Roman, and Patton supplied the food and hot chocolate.

Roman was situated in the middle of everyone, still sleeping. When he did wake up, a couple of movies in, everyone smiled at him.

“What…” His eyes widened. “Are- are you all okay? I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s okay, Roman. We’re here for you, and we’re all okay.” Patton beamed, “I’m so proud of you for making it through that.”

“But I…”

“That must have been horrific to go through, but you were very brave,” Janus added.

“You’re all okay? I don’t… remember much. But I-” Roman tried to sit up suddenly, and winced. “I- you were flying at the wall and- are you sure you’re okay?” Remus, Virgil, and Patton nodded.

“We’re fine, Princey. We promise.”

“I… I’m so tired.”

“Well, there’s no way we can tell quite how long it’s been since you slept, so that’s not exactly unexpected.”

Janus agreed. “You should rest Roman, it will be good for you.”

“But, you-”

“We’ll all be here when you wake up kiddo, let yourself rest.”

“Re? You…”

“Quiet, I’m taking a nap too.” He smiled, genuinely. “It’s a lot of work saving your ass Ro-bro. We should get back to sleep.” He closed his eyes. “We’re both heroes for getting through all that today. We can talk later.” He paused. “And if I’m not here when you wake up, you can always come get me. We’re there for each other.”

Roman felt his tears on his cheeks, but they were good this time. He felt so warm, and safe, and loved. He let himself breathe, lay his head down, and close his eyes. He was finally relaxed, and happy. Roman fell asleep, surrounded by everyone he cared about, with a smile on his face.

Heroes.

[ssscentral]

Starry Eyes | For Kas

Summary: A movie night is nothing compared to what Namjoon has actually planned for your birthday.

pairing: Namjoon x reader

rating: GA

genre: tooth-rotting fluff !! some crack too

warnings: kissing. kim namjoon’s existence, namjoon is very cheesy

wc: 2.8k

member: Rid & Melody || @taegularities & @hoebii 

a/n: this was written for our beautiful, amazing, intelligent, gorgeous friend @voiceswithoutlips !!! happy, happy birthday - we love you so so much, baby, and not even this fic can express how much you mean to us. here’s to many more years of annoying each other !! <333 also, thank you so much @oftenderweapons​ for beta’ing this, precious !! :-*

The growling of the clouds woke you up.

A storm this early in the morning? That was surely unexpected and unusual. Not that you minded though — not only was it your favourite weather due to its aesthetics, but it calmed you in some odd way as well. However, while you were thoroughly enjoying the sound of the rain, something in the back of your mind reminded you that you were missing something important; something you’d even thought of before falling asleep.

And when you sat up, your eyes automatically shifted to the open window, a small curse escaping your lips as you pulled the blanket away and half sprinted to close it. Yes, rain was cool and all, but it had no business wetting your whole bedroom floor, and you had no wish of mopping the floor right after waking up.

You couldn’t help but cringe as you felt water on the floor while shutting the window, cursing at whoever had opened it last night in the first place. Thankfully, however, the amount of water that the wind had brought wasn’t much. It would dry in a moment, you thought, no need to clean it up. Nope. 

With that, you slunk back towards the bed, ready to return to the land of dreams.

As you were getting cosy again, your phone started vibrating incessantly. Mentally cursing at whatever the reason was for your phone to be buzzing so much, you laid there contemplating if you should just grab the device and chuck it out the window into the ongoing storm. No, control yourself. You don’t have the money to do that.

Grabbing the phone, you didn’t even bother checking what was on it, rather just switching it off in sheer spite. Laying there for a moment after that, you tried going back to sleep but soon realised that you weren’t sleepy anymore.

Grumbling, you decided to wake up the sleeping man beside you. Why? Because if you had to be up so early, then he had to as well.

His eyebrows furrowed as you shook his body, his hand coming up to rub his eyes until he let out an annoyed “What?”

But when he saw your mischievous grin and face so close to his, a smile appeared on his lips, the perfect dimples so deep you wanted to hide in them. The grin of a clown had nothing on the pretty man next to you.

“What?” you asked him with a tilt of your head, eyebrows raising as he pulled you down.

“What do you mean ‘what?’”

“Why are you looking at me like that?” 

The brightness in his expression disappeared slowly as confusion took over, blinking a few times in disbelief until he inquired, “Don’t you remember?”

Remember what?

The cogs in your brain started to rotate again as you thought about his question — and although you soon realised what he was hinting at, you acted oblivious, the need to annoy him too strong to ignore.

“Ah, is it Wednesday already? My assignment is due today,” you groaned, rolling your eyes.

Shaking his head, Namjoon gave you a questioning look. “Babe, I’ve been looking forward to this since this year started and managed to remember it, but you didn’t?”

It was your turn to give him a confused look, brows furrowing. “Why would you be looking forward to the due date of my assignment,” you asked, “actually, how did you look forward to it? We were given the work last week.” 

Before he could reply, you gasped - trying desperately to not burst out in laughter at his face. “Oh my god. Are you psychic?” you fake whispered, acting as if you were asking for the recipe to eternal life.

Namjoon contemplated his life choices as he looked at you baffled, eyes nearly hollow as he shook his head. “That’s not what I’m talking about.”

“Are you sure, because-”

“Babe, just…” he placed a hand on his face, fingers massaging his temples for a second, “Happy Birthday.”

You looked at him with a playful, devilish grin, brushing your chin with your fingers before you exclaimed, “Oh! It’s my birthday!... What’s a birthday again?”

Namjoon tried to suppress the smile that threatened to surface, tongue running along the inside of his cheek before he pulled you into his chest tightly. “Okay, now you’re just fucking with me.”

“What? Me? No,” you said, laughing into his shirt as he squeezed you lovingly, “Why fuck with you when I can fuck you?”

You felt the arms around you loosen before he threw you next to him, the sight too endearing to hold your laughter in. “I hate you.”

“I love you, too, baby. But if you keep pouting, I will bring mint-choco.”

“You hate that, too?” He looked offended but curious as well, one eyebrow cocked at you as he waited for your answer.

You barely shrugged, strands of hair wrapping around your finger. “I wouldn’t be eating it, you would.”

“Why do you hate me?”

You lifted your body, giving him a kiss with a clearly audible muah-sound as you said, “I don’t, baby.”

“My doubt increases the more you threaten me.”

You clicked your tongue, booping his nose. “Then stop giving me reasons to threaten you, sweetheart.”

And when he calmed down, you yawned, listening to the storm as it slowly died down until you finally asked, “So, cooking risotto, baking cake and watching lame movies - that’s the plan for today, right?”

“If we finish all of it, yes,” Namjoon agreed, smiling sweetly - a gesture you found harmless enough to suspect anything behind it.

Jumping from the bed, you tilted your head, stretching out your hand as if you were talking to a child, “Up, up, then.”

Without further annoyance and teasing, the day had passed exactly as you’d expected: with endless giggles, flour on your face (and ass), bad jokes and a near death experience with Namjoon somehow tripping over nothing and barely avoiding a concussion. Finally, he’d managed to serve something somewhat edible while you’d handled the beautiful cake, it was already late, dusk passed and stars twinkled in the clear night sky.

The storm had long vanished and made way to a crystal clear sight - perfect for you to cuddle up and laugh about flopped movies all night long. Stuffing more of the icing and toppings of the cake into your mouth, you barely noticed when he shifted, assuming that he was only going to the bathroom when he pulled you up with him.

Surprised by his sudden move, you looked into his dark, shiny eyes, a questioning look making him speak up, “Do you trust me?”

Scary. One would think a sentence like this meant doom, but the way he looked at you, the fondness and affection so apparent in his gaze, made you simply nod.

“What if I told you there’s something I want to show you that’s a lot better than these movies?”

Then, you broke, eyes rolling as you asked, “Better than badly dubbed Jurassic Park? You have to convince me, Mister Kim.” 

He laughed as he brought his nose to yours, rubbing against it for a second before he pressed a gentle kiss against your lips. When he backed away, he mumbled a “Stay right here” before disappearing into your room. You remained standing at your spot, craning your neck.

“Huh?” was the only sound that left you when he came back with two thin jackets, handing you yours before he took your hand, grabbing the keys and gently urging you out of the apartment.

“Where are we going?” you asked, clutching his hand as he led you to god knew where.

“To the magical lands of Narnia,” he replied, snorting at his own words. He saw an opportunity to tease you and he would be damned if he didn’t take it.

Not one to back down, however, you replied, “Wouldn’t that be through our closet then, Mr. Smartass?”

Rolling his eyes, Namjoon chose to ignore your words, pushing open the door to the roof - making you raise an eyebrow.

“Did you bring me here to push me off for all the comments I’ve made today?” you asked, “‘Cause not only is that illegal, it’s also my birthday so that would be quite rude of you.”

Namjoon rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he answered. “If I wanted you dead, I’d much rather poison you.”

Putting a hand on your chest, you gasped. “How scandalous! Though the food you let me taste did make me suspicious,” you said as if deep in thought. 

Namjoon gave you a flat look, not impressed with your jab at his cooking skills. “Do you not want your gifts? Is that it?”

You perked up at the mention of gifts — plural —, looking at him innocently, “Nooo, I do. Gimme, gimme!”

Approaching the edge of the roof further, you noticed a small table, surprisingly dry and decorated with two little flowers and two weird looking glasses. You looked at him in question, pointing at the objects silently until you’d gathered enough words on your tongue to ask, “When did you do this?”

“I mean, this table is always here, but the rest… uh - remember when I told you that I had to take out the trash but took too long to come back?” When you nodded, he moved his head with you as if to indicate Yes, back then.

“And the glasses?” you inquired as you picked one up, faintly recognising them as those one uses to wear at nights when-

“Wait. Wait. I think I remember reading something about an eclipse somewhere.” You watched his expression change, the nervosity fleeing until he gave you a knowing look. “Oh, wait, really now?”

“Why is that so hard to believe?” He grinned at you, his pretty dyed silver hair floating in the wind as he gestured for you to take a seat. “We’ve looked at the stars before.”

You did as he asked, scanning the table for all its content before landing on a card. Picking it up, you couldn’t help but coo at how cute it was. The card had a cake on it’s center with what seemed to be balloons beside it, Namjoon’s beautiful handwritten ‘Happy Birthday’ on top as a banner. 

“Aww Joonie, you weren’t joking when you said you’d let your niece draw for my next birthday!” you gushed, failing to notice how he gave you an offended look. 

He cleared his throat to get your attention away from the card, “Actually, I made that myself.” 

Your eyes widened at that, lips pressing together so hard that it hurt as you tried not to burst out in laughter. You coughed, trying to mask the chuckles that still left your lips, “Oh babe. That’s um.. I love the card! The attention to all the details on the little cake is so cute!”

He would’ve remarked something snarky, you knew it. But instead, he pointed to the glasses, both of you placing them on your noses before you looked up just in time. Any laughter and giggle left you when you lost yourself in the view above you, mesmerised by the simple natural phenomenon that had you awestruck.

Floating in the eternal void called space, the Earth finally aligned with the sun and moon perfectly, shifting in between and colouring the latter a faint red. It was almost as if your planet’s natural satellite had become angered at the interruption of the sun’s illumination, separated from its lover and showing it in the furious hues of red and orange.

You laughed a little at the thought, sighing right after as your hand moved to find the one of your own lover, clutching it until he moved closer. His fingers left yours soon though, his arm instead wrapping around your shoulder as he pulled you in, your head resting on his chest comfortably as you watched the beauty in the sky silently. With how the colours of the moon changed slowly, the stars were momentarily forgotten, the soft breeze of the spring day grazing your cheeks pleasantly.

And as soon as everything had started, it had ended as well, the Earth finally reconciling the couple in your solar system and you stretched your legs, looking at him in awe. He was folding the glasses in his hands, teeth nibbling at his lower lip nervously without looking at you.

“Joonie,” you called before his stare met yours, eyes so big and confused at his own name that you knew something was off.

But he softened soon, gaze shifting from yours to your nose and settling on your lips. Without a warning, his hand cupped your face softly, mouths colliding and moving tenderly. When he backed away, you smiled, asking, “You’re distracting yourself from the pretty view because of kisses.”

“You’re the prettiest view though.”

“You know exactly what I mean,” you sang-song, wiping the hair away from his eyes.

He pressed you closer, still looking at your lips longingly, his expression nearly melancholic as he whispered, “The eclipse is over.”

“Still.”

“You’re here in my arms. The stars, sun and moon? They aren’t.” Despite loving you more than he’d ever considered possible, his lips on yours were the only thing that could distract him from his nervousness, his pounding heart and his shaking limbs.

Your smile melted his insides entirely, your features so soft and inviting that he couldn’t help but let out an overwhelmed sigh, fingers only pressing into you harder as you said, “I’d totally forgotten about the eclipse today.”

“Well, I’d been planning this for quite some while. Wanted to show you something that’s almost as fascinating as you.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, it is.” The chairs were uncomfortable, but with him, things always felt peaceful and calming, no space to complain ever.

“Okay then,” you started, kissing his cheek just once, “then show the birthday girl how fascinating she is for you.”

“Are you sure I should?”

And here was the nervous nibbling and distressed gaze again, by now worrying you a little as he took a deep breath. “Are you okay?” you asked, eyebrows furrowed. “Did I say something wrong?”

Namjoon was quick to shake his head, waving his hand to dismiss your worries, “You could never, baby.”

“Then what’s up, why do you look so nervous?”

He fidgeted on his spot for a second, trying to come up with the right words to say. “Well, you see, Y/N,” he started, slowly going down on one knee as he pulled out a velvet box from his pocket.

Your breath hitched as you looked at him in shock. Was he going to do what you thought he was?

“You know, I was always a happy, optimistic person and didn’t think life could get better, more wholesome with everything I already had,” he started, taking the glistening in your eyes as a good signal as he continued, “But that was until I met you.”

You could feel the warm tears run down your cheeks and onto the ground, your nails digging into your palms, twitching to reach out for him and hug him as close to you as possible.

“The way you just got me, how you understood me and how we can spend all the nights under this damn sky, look at all the stars and eclipses and shooting stars, and their beauty will still never compare to you. We talk about nothing and everything without any judgement, bicker about the stupidest things but also delve into such deep talks the next second, that’s the happiness you make me feel.” 

There was a clear pause, still something his heart carried, a few words he wanted to say that were the sole reason you didn’t drop to your knees and pressed your lips against his.

“And frankly, I want to keep feeling like this forever,” he said, his voice shaking at the end as the nerves took over yet again. Opening the box in his hand, he presented a beautiful ring that glinted under the moonlight as he finally asked, “So, what do you say, Y/N? Want to make me the happiest man alive and spend the rest of our lives together?”

And finally, your knees gave out, cheeks aching from how hard you were smiling as you pulled him in for a passionate kiss, whispering ‘yes’ over and over again.

Pulling back from you, he looked into your eyes, his own looking as if they were shining. “Are you sure?” he asked, his wide anticipation filled eyes reminding you of a puppy.

“Of course I am! Of course, Joon, I love you so much,” you replied, pulling him back into another kiss, smiling as you felt him put the ring on your finger. 

You broke the kiss, looking down to inspect the ring that sat on your finger. “It’s beautiful.”

Namjoon smiled, pulling you into his embrace and placing a kiss on top of your head. “Not as beautiful as you.”

if you liked the story, don’t forget to like/reblog or send us an ask !! <3

[chaos-of-the-abyss]

Why Dany’s Motivation for Abolishing Slavery is Not “Condescending Compassion”

Anon: Someone I know irl keeps who’s a Dany anti keeps saying that they don’t like Dany because she has “condescending compassion” for the slaves she freed. I really want to argue back because I know they’re wrong, but I can’t articulate why. Could you give me an example of what condescending compassion really is, and explain why that’s not what Dany is showing?

Whew, it’s been a while since I got an ask about Dany, but I’m always open to defend her. This one was long and interesting for me, so I put it in post form rather than just answering the ask. I hope you don’t mind, anon. 

Dany’s attitude towards the freedmen and the slaves she wants to free in the future is far from “condescending compassion.”

“Condescending Compassion is when a person feels magnanimous enough not to hold someone's 'faults' against them openly. They can't help being a commoner, idiot, mutant or simply wrong so it would be rude to treat them badly because of it. Instead, they resort to the much better idea that they should be sympathetic or even friendly to that lesser being, but of course, they won't really take them seriously.”

Source

This is not what Dany does. Here’s an actual example of condescending compassion. Under the cut for length and Fate/Grand Order spoilers, even though I really don’t think any of my followers know about or play it except for my constant spamming. Also, I will warn you that I ended up talking more about Fate/Grand Order than Dany because I was trying to explain the example, so... sorry about that. Also I got carried away

Someone who really exhibits a serious case of condescending compassion would be Goetia, the main antagonist of Fate/Grand Order Arc 1: Observer on Timeless Temple. Goetia is one of the seven Evils of Humanity, the Sin of Pity, which is, in essence, the embodiment of condescending compassion. To explain: 

Goetia was essentially the collective consciousness of the 72 Demon God Pillars, who were familiars of King Solomon, the founder of magecraft. Solomon made a spell to manifest said collective consciousness as Goetia, so the Demon God Pillars could continue to protect humanity after his death.

As Solomon’s familiar, Goetia shared Solomon’s ability of Clairvoyance, which, in Solomon’s case, enabled him to see all of the past and all of the future. Over time, Goetia became enraged that Solomon refused to do anything about the constant death and suffering of humanity despite being an extremely powerful mage who could see all the hardships that had occurred and were in store (thanks to his Clairvoyance). Thus, after Solomon’s death, Goetia possessed Solomon’s corpse, obtaining the majority of his powers as well as nine of the ten rings given to Solomon by God, which was the source of a good bit of Solomon’s abilities. The tenth ring, however, was sent into the future by Solomon on God’s command, so Goetia wasn’t able to obtain it. That’s an important plot point for later.

Goetia waited until modern day (2018 I think?) and then used measures he had put in place to wipe out all of humanity. Not just the humans living in the present, but all of the humans who had lived in the past were killed, too. So think of it as everyone who exists, ever existed, or will exist, dead. The only survivors were the protagonists of Fate/Grand Order. 

After incinerating humanity, Goetia planned to convert all of the destroyed mankind into magical energy, which he would then use to travel back in time to the planet’s creation. He wanted to start Earth all over again and establish a new humanity. However, this new humanity would be different from the old humanity; they would be unchanging, deathless organisms with no biological or emotional flaws, much like Goetia himself. 

The thing is, Goetia loved humanity in his own way and wanted what he thought was best for them. It essentially goes like this: Humans know so little, while his knowledge, through his Clairvoyance, borders on omniscience. Humans turn on and hurt each other for their own self-interest, while he is capable of thinking and acting on a much wider scale. Humans have to die eventually, unlike him who’s immortal, and so everything that every single human ever did, in Goetia’s mind, was for nothing. Why would it have meaning, if their only possible option is to die eventually? 

Poor things, right? He has to help them. They came out wrong. They’re so weak and hopeless, so he’s going to destroy their existence and their history and create them anew, the right way. (Aka his way.)

The way he loves humanity is belittling. No one wants help from someone who thinks of them like that. This quote is a pretty good summation of his love for humanity, borne of a legitimate case of condescending compassion.

“Do you think being forced to watch the lives of humans is an interesting task, one worthy of me!? I’m sick of it! No matter what happens, they just disappear, and only fear remains! Every human’s life is a story of hate and despair! It’s a terrible thing to watch!”

He invalidates all of humanity’s struggles, every single human’s life, because he’s not human himself. It’s not true that death means that everything that one ever does is pointless, but Goetia, being an immortal being unfamiliar with the concept of death, someone who doesn’t have to worry about an end ever coming to him, doesn’t understand that (for now). This is displayed in the multiple times he asks the protagonist and Mash, the deuteragonist, why. Why do they keep fighting, knowing that they can’t beat him? Even if they somehow could – why do they keep fighting, knowing that they’ll all die one day? Why do they keep fighting, when it’s so pointless?

But then, the basis of Goetia’s immortality is destroyed when Solomon reappears, having actually been one of the protagonist’s main allies disguised as a doctor. Remember that tenth ring that Solomon sent to the future under God’s instruction? Although Goetia has the majority of Solomon’s powers now that he possesses his corpse and the remaining nine rings, the tenth ring was something he never obtained. As it turns out, the real Solomon retrieved that ring, which was used as a catalyst to summon him, when he manifested in the modern era. 

Solomon now uses the power of the gathered ten rings to perform his trump card – The Time of Parting Hath Come, I Am He Who Surrenders the World: Ars Nova – to return all of the powers God gave him back to God. In essence, he “closes the curtain” on himself, everything he has ever done, and everything he’s ever created, including Goetia. Ars Nova removes Solomon entirely from existence (rip), but it also removes Goetia’s immortality, and then the protagonist manages to land a fatal blow on him.

A little before Solomon uses Ars Nova and vanishes, he explains to Goetia why he didn’t try to change humanity the way Goetia did, despite seeing all of the past and future and consequently being exposed over and over again to how inevitable humans’ deaths were. 

“That’s what you fail to understand, Goetia. Of course nothing is eternal, and pain awaits us all in the end. But that doesn’t make life a story of despair. Not at all. It’s a fight against death and separation in what precious little time one is given. It’s a repetition of meeting and parting, despite knowing there’s an end. ...Humans’ stories are dazzling, brief journeys, like the twinkling of the stars. They are stories of love and hope.”

At first, when he was still immortal, Goetia refused this logic, saying that it’s “deception” on Solomon’s part. Now, though, with Solomon having used Ars Nova and the protagonist having landed a fatal blow, Goetia is dying. For the first time, he’s confronted with the possibility of an end to his existence. He has no way, absolutely no means, to prevent his death now. Yet, when the protagonist attempts to escape the now-crumbling dimension in which Goetia made his temple, Goetia says this. (And I cut out a lot, because this is a long-ass monologue.)

“We finally understand each other. I’m not going to let you leave alive. You will die here with me. ...My dream is in ruins. Everything I did here in this temple, all the time I spent planning... All of it, for naught. [...] No matter what I do here, now, I cannot redeem my failure. Killing you will change nothing. ...This is a meaningless battle. This would have been an unthinkable choice for me before. But...

...Yes, indeed. I also have my pride. Or rather, I do now. I now understand human mentality. Now that I have a limited, mortal life, I finally understand. [...] My name is Goetia. I am the one who used humanity to destroy humanity. The one who strove for what lay beyond. A climax with no one around. ...I strove for an empty wish that none truly wanted. I am born now and I shall perish now. This battle may be without resolution or reward, but I shall put my entire being on the line to crush you. ...My sworn enemy. My hatred. My destiny. I want you to witness this. This brief moment is now my story. This brief but precious time has given the creature called Goetia true life.”

This quote is so poignant. Although Goetia attempts to pull a “taking you with me” on the protagonist, this is a rare example of the trope that is not meant to paint the villain in a final negative light, as a petty sore loser. Rather, it’s an indication that Goetia finally understands Solomon’s view on humanity, why humans strive so hard despite their lives being so short, and why the protagonist and Mash put their everything into fighting him despite knowing that they’ll inevitably die no matter what the outcome is. Humans’ time on earth is, in Goetia’s own words, “brief but precious.” He actually echoes what Solomon said about humans’ stories being “dazzling, brief journeys”, despite having so vehemently rejected it when he was immortal.

There’s no point in Goetia killing the protagonist. Just like he once believed human life to be meaningless, it should be meaningless whether he wins or not; he’ll die no matter what, and his plans are already foiled. When he was immortal, he never would have thought like this.

But Goetia isn’t immortal now. He has a finite lifespan; in fact, he’s about to die. There’s nothing he can do to save himself. Yet, he still wants to take the protagonist down with him, simply because he “has his pride.” And what’s more? Even if he loses, he wants the protagonist to witness his end. He asks to be seen, acknowledged, and remembered, despite all his work having been for nothing.

Both of those desires are human things. Goetia now knows what it’s like to be human. His case of condescending compassion is closed; he no longer looks down on humanity, because he understands them. He empathizes with them. He experiences being human. 

But Dany? She never once looked down on the slaves she wanted to free. She doesn’t think, “Oh, poor things. They can’t possibly help themselves, not with how frail and simple they are. They’re so vulnerable, so delicate, so abused. Let me save them.” No. 

Dany always understood what it feels like to be owned. She was abused by her brother for years, with no means to protect herself from him. Then she was sold to a man more than twice her age and made into a glorified sex slave, again with no way to defend herself. She’s already experienced something very much like what the slaves she strives to free have gone through. And even though she later gains agency and power, she never forgets what being owned, being unable to fight back, is like. 

As the hours passed, the terror grew in Dany, until it was all she could do not to scream. She was afraid of the Dothraki, whose ways seemed alien and monstrous, as if they were beasts in human skins and not true men at all. She was afraid of her brother, of what he might do if she failed him. Most of all, she was afraid of what would happen tonight under the stars, when her brother gave her up to the hulking giant who sat drinking beside her with a face as still and cruel as a bronze mask.

A Game of Thrones – Daenerys II

"There speaks one who has been neither." Dany's nostrils flared. "Do you know what it is like to be sold, squire? I do. My brother sold me to Khal Drogo for the promise of a golden crown. Well, Drogo crowned him in gold, though not as he had wished, and I ... my sun-and-stars made a queen of me, but if he had been a different man, it might have been much otherwise. Do you think I have forgotten how it felt to be afraid?"

A Storm of Swords – Daenerys II

Safe. The word made Dany's eyes fill up with tears. "I want to keep you safe." Missandei was only a child. With her, she felt as if she could be a child too. "No one ever kept me safe when I was little. Well, Ser Willem did, but then he died, and Viserys … I want to protect you but … it is so hard. To be strong. I don't always know what I should do. I must know, though. I am all they have. I am the queen … the … the …"

A Dance with Dragons – Daenerys II

More than anything else, Daenerys always understood that her brother sold her as a bargaining chip – his own sister, and he uses her like some animal hide to trade off. She understood that she could do nothing to defend herself when she was with Viserys, and later, with Drogo. If they wanted to hurt her, no one would have stood up for her, no one would have protected her, and if she tried to protect herself, she would have been punished. She was in the same position as an object; no rights and no guarantees of basic decency. Dany experienced that fear and dehumanization firsthand. She empathizes with the slaves she wants to free in the way that Goetia, only at the end of his life, empathized with humans.

That’s why she wants to abolish slavery. She went through that horror firsthand, and she doesn’t want anyone else to have to go through it again. She wants to protect people from it, because she knows how awful and disgusting and traumatic it is. 

TLDR: It’s a complete and gross mischaracterization to write off Dany’s motivations for abolishing slavery as “condescending compassion”. It’s spitting on everything that she suffered from Viserys and from Drogo. It’s empathy, not condescending compassion, that motivates her. 

[dark-and-twisty-01]

Bender Family - serial killers who eluded capture (1872-73)

Nothing is known of the Bender family's origins, except that all four members spoke with varying degrees of German accent. Whether or not they were actually European immigrants is now impossible to learn, an aspect of the killer blood that shall, like so much else about their lives, remain forever wrapped in mystery.

The Benders enter recorded history in 1872, as new arrivals in the small community of Cherryvale, Kansas. William Bender was the patriarch, a bearded hulk whose age was estimated in the neighbourhood of 60 years. No given name has been recorded for his wife, "Ma" Bender, some 10 years her husband's junior. Their elder child was John, a brawny simpleton given to odd fits of giggling. The baby and star of the family was daughter, Kate, an attractive blonde in her early 20s who quickly emerged as the family's spokesperson and, some said, the brains behind their infamous career in homicide.

Soon after their arrival in Montgomery County, the Benders built a one room cabin on the road between Cherryvale and Thayer. A sheet of canvas cut the room in half, with private living quarters on one side and a public room on the other. Travelers could buy a home cooked meal or rent a cot from the Benders, but some paid for the rest stop with their lives.

In practice, transient groups and hard luck drifters had nothing to fear from the Bender clan; a solitary traveller with cash or valuables in hand was something else again. The chosen mark was seated at a table, with the canvas curtain at his back. Kate Bender served his meal, distracting him with conversation or a bit of cleavage while her brother or the old man crept up on the victim's blind side and dispatched him with a crushing hammer blow. That done, the corpse was lowered through a trapdoor to the cellar, stripped and looted, finally buried on the grounds outside. Ma Bender did her part by planting flowers to conceal the graves.

When travellers were scarce, Kate Bender did her part to keep the family business going. On her own, she toured south-eastern Kansas, billing herself as "Professor Miss Kate Bender," a psychic medium with contacts in the spirit world. Her public seances earned money for the family, and young male members of the audience were sometimes more impressed with Kate's appearance than her ESP. A number of those would be suitors made the trip to Cherryvale and wound up in Ma Bender's flower bed.

The family's last known victim was Dr. William York, from Fort Scott, Kansas. Passing through Cherryvale in March 1873, York asked about overnight lodging and was pointed toward the Bender spread. He never made it home, and it was May before his brother, Col. A. M. York, arrived in search of explanations. Questioning the Benders, York received denials. He declined their hospitality and cautioned them he would soon return if he could not pick up his brother's trail.

Next morning, on May 5,1873, a passing neighbour saw the front door of the Bender cabin standing open, the family team and wagon was missing. Stepping inside, he found the place deserted. Fresh dirt in the cellar marked the grave of Dr. York, and 10 more bodies were unearthed around the cabin, all with shattered skulls. By then, the Benders had a two day lead. Colonel York led a posse in pursuit, but they returned at length with word that no trace of their quarry could be fined.

And there the matter rested for awhile. In 1884 an old man matching William Bender's description was arrested in Montana for a homicide committed near Salmon, Idaho. The victim's skull had been crushed with a sledgehammer in that case, and a message was wired to Cherryvale, seeking positive identification of the suspect. That night, the prisoner severed his own foot to escape from leg irons, and he was dead from loss of blood when his breakfast arrived in the morning. By the time a deputy arrived from Kansas, advanced decomposition had destroyed any hope of identifying the corpse (Even so, the "Bender skull" was publicly displayed in Salmon's Buckthorn Saloon until 1920, when Prohibition closed the tavern and the relic disappeared.)

Five years after the bizarre events in Idaho, Cherryvale resident Leroy Dick paid a visit to Michigan, where he identified Mrs. Almira Griffith and her daughter, Mrs. Sarah Davies, as Ma and Kate Bender. The suspects were extradited to Kansas, where seven members of a 13 man panel agreed with Dick's identification. Then, on the eve of the trial, a Michigan marriage license was produced for one of the women, dated in 1872, and all charges were dropped.

In 1909 George Downer, dying in Chicago, told his attorney that he had ridden with Colonel York's posse in 1873. Far from coming up empty, he said they had captured the "Hell Benders" and meted out brutal vigilante justice, saving Kate for last and burning her alive. The bodies were co-signed to an abandoned well, and posse members swore among themselves that they would take the secret to their graves. In 1910, before Downer's statement was widely aired, a similar deathbed confession emerged from New Mexico. The source, a man named Harker, admitted taking several thousand dollars from the Bender corpses before they went into the well. A search for the burial site proved fruitless, the well if it ever existed long since vanished in a sea of cultivates corn, but the lynching tale resurfaced in 1940, published by the son of an alleged posse member named Stark.

Did vigilante justice overtake the Benders on a lonely stretch of Kansas prairie in 1873? Or did the lethal clan escape, perhaps to build another roadside lair and kill again? How many victims did they claim before they moved to Cherryvale? More than 130 years beyond their crimes, the only answer to those nagging questions is the silence of the grave.