#you ever just do a sketch and lose your senses

[077891st]

upside down🌀 downside up

[sereinnu]

Fractured Tides 3

Warnings: STEP-CEST| drugs and alcohol use| Rafe Cameron| very foul language| more yet to come| DON'T read if you're uncomfortable with these themes| MDNI| I already warned you not to read|

Rafe Cameron x Step-sister!Reader

Despite your efforts to make peace, your stepbrother Rafe's hatred for you persists. Each attempt to bridge the gap only seems to widen the divide, leaving you wondering if you'll ever find common ground in this family.

The days after the party were nothing short of torturous. The house felt more oppressive than ever, each room steeped in a tension so thick it was hard to breathe. The air was heavy with unspoken words, simmering anger, and the constant, gnawing sense that something was about to break.

You tried to immerse yourself in your studies, losing yourself in textbooks and sketches that once brought you comfort. But even in the safety of your room, the memories of Rafe’s cold, cutting words haunted you. Every time you picked up a pencil, your hand would tremble slightly, a physical manifestation of the emotional turmoil you couldn’t quite push down. The lines on your sketchpad blurred, becoming nothing more than frustrated strokes of graphite that led nowhere.

Rafe was a constant, haunting presence in your life—visible even in his absence. The mere thought of him lurking somewhere in the house was enough to send your heart racing, a toxic mix of dread and something else—something you refused to name—churning in your chest.

The kitchen became your refuge, a place where you could pretend, even if only for a few moments, that things were normal. The simple act of preparing food, the rhythmic chopping of vegetables, and the scent of herbs offered a fragile sense of stability. Yet, even here, the fear lingered, like a shadow that never fully receded.

One afternoon, as you were lost in the mindless comfort of chopping carrots, the sound of the front door slamming reverberated through the house, followed by the heavy tread of Rafe’s boots on the hardwood floor. You stiffened, your hand faltering as the blade sliced through the carrot, nicking your finger. The sharp sting of pain was immediate, a small, physical echo of the emotional wounds you’d been carrying.

You hissed in pain, but the sound was drowned out by the roar of your heartbeat in your ears. You barely had time to react before Rafe stormed into the kitchen, radiating a fury that seemed to crackle in the air around him. He didn’t acknowledge you at first, his focus solely on the beer he yanked from the fridge with a force that made the bottles rattle.

The tension in the room was suffocating, pressing down on you like a physical weight. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, each beat a painful reminder of how vulnerable you were in his presence. Rafe was like a storm, unpredictable and dangerous, and you were caught in the eye of it, powerless to escape.

Finally, he turned to you, his gaze sharp and unforgiving. “We need to talk,” he said, his voice low and dangerous, each word dripping with menace.

You looked up, your breath catching in your throat. The expression on his face made your stomach twist with fear. “About what?” you managed to ask, your voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking too loudly might provoke him further.

Rafe’s eyes flashed with something dark, something that made your stomach twist in fear. “About you,” he snapped, his voice harsh. “About how you keep sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

The accusation cut through you like a knife, and you could feel the sting of tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. But you refused to cry—not in front of him. “I didn’t mean to—”

“I don’t care what you meant to do,” Rafe interrupted, his words laced with venom. “This is my life, my space. And you—” He gestured at you with the beer can, the liquid sloshing dangerously close to the rim. “You’re just a complication. You’re making everything worse.”

His words were like a physical blow, and you flinched as if he had struck you. Your heart shattered in your chest, the pieces scattering in the empty space between you. You wanted to defend yourself, to tell him that he was wrong, that you did belong, but the words wouldn’t come. They were stuck in your throat, suffocated by the overwhelming pain of rejection.

Rafe’s gaze bore into you, unrelenting and cold. “Do yourself a favor,” he said, his voice dangerously calm, sending shivers down your spine. “Stay out of my way. I don’t need you. I don’t want you here.”

With that, he turned and left, leaving you standing in the middle of the kitchen, your hands shaking and your vision blurred by tears you refused to let fall. You could barely process what had just happened, the sting of his words echoing in your mind like a cruel taunt.

You didn’t know how long you stood there, the weight of his words pressing down on you, crushing you. The silence of the empty kitchen was deafening, the only sound the soft drip of blood from your finger, a small but painful reminder of how deeply his words had cut you.

Later that night, you lay in bed, the darkness of your room mirroring the darkness in your heart. You couldn’t stop replaying the confrontation in your mind, the harshness of his voice, the venom in his words. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw his face, twisted with anger and something else—something like disgust.

The tears finally came, hot and relentless, as you curled up on your side, clutching your pillow like a lifeline. You felt like you were drowning, each sob tearing through you, leaving you gasping for breath. The pain was overwhelming, an all-consuming ache that radiated from your chest and spread through every part of your body.

You wanted to hate him, wanted to hate the way he made you feel so small, so insignificant. But beneath the anger, beneath the hurt, was something far more terrifying—a longing you couldn’t shake, a yearning for something you knew you could never have. The desire for his approval, his attention, gnawed at you, even as you tried to bury it under layers of pain and rejection.

The days that followed were a blur of pain and confusion. You avoided Rafe as much as possible, but every time you saw him, the wounds he had inflicted reopened, raw and bleeding. The house felt like a prison, each room a reminder of the distance between you. The silence between you was deafening, a constant reminder of how much had changed, how much you had lost.

One evening, the unbearable weight of your emotions drove you out of the house. You found yourself at a local bar, drawn by the noise and the people, hoping that the chaos would drown out the turmoil inside you. The music was loud, the lights dim, and the air was thick with the scent of alcohol and sweat.

You stood at the edge of the crowd, nursing a drink you didn’t want, your eyes scanning the room for a familiar face. But no one here was familiar, and the emptiness inside you only grew. You felt out of place, alone in a sea of strangers.

Then you saw him—Rafe, standing by the bar, another woman draped on his arm, her laughter shrill and grating. Your heart clenched painfully in your chest, the sight of him with her reopening old wounds. The memory of him with the ginger that morning flashed through your mind, the way he had chased after you, angry and embarrassed. It felt like a lifetime ago, yet the pain was as fresh as ever.

You wanted to look away, to walk out and never come back, but your feet were rooted to the spot, your eyes locked on him. He didn’t see you at first, too caught up in whatever meaningless conversation he was having with the ginger. But then his eyes met yours, and something shifted in his expression.

For a moment, just a moment, you thought you saw something like regret in his eyes. But then it was gone, replaced by that cold, distant look you had come to dread. The same look he had given you in the kitchen, the same look that had made you feel so small.

As if sensing the shift in his mood, the ginger followed his gaze and spotted you. Her smile turned icy, and she whispered something in Rafe’s ear, something that made him frown. You couldn’t hear what she said, but you could feel the sting of her words all the same. The jealousy that had been simmering inside you boiled over, and you felt a pang of something dark and bitter twist in your gut.

Rafe’s eyes narrowed as he glanced back at you, his expression hardening. The ginger, proud by whatever she had whispered, stepped closer to him, her hand resting on his arm as if she owned him. “Why is she staring at us?” she asked, loud enough for you to hear, her tone dripping with disdain.

Something in Rafe snapped. You saw it happen, the way his jaw tightened, the way his eyes darkened with something dangerous. He shoved the ginger's hand off his arm with a roughness that made her stumble back, shock and hurt flashing across her face.

“Shut up,” Rafe growled, his voice low and deadly. The ginger stared at him, stunned into silence, her lips parting in disbelief. “Just shut up and get lost.”

The girl blinked, clearly caught off guard by the sudden shift in his demeanor. “Rafe, what the hell—?”

“I said, get lost!” Rafe’s voice rose, anger simmering just beneath the surface. The bar seemed to fall into a hushed silence, and you could feel the eyes of nearby patrons turning in your direction, sensing the brewing storm.

The ginger looked like she wanted to argue, but one look at Rafe’s furious expression made her think twice. With a huff, she turned on her heel and stormed off, leaving Rafe standing there, seething.

The girl's departure left a strange silence in the bar. You felt as if the air had thickened, the tension so palpable it made your skin prickle. Rafe's gaze bore into you from across the room, his chest rising and falling with the effort to control his breathing. You knew he was on the brink of something—whether it was rage, regret, or something else, you couldn't tell.

Desperate to escape his glare and the whirlwind of emotions threatening to pull you under, you turned away, moving deeper into the crowd. You pushed past the swaying bodies and found yourself near the back of the bar, where the noise was slightly muffled and the shadows a little deeper.

It was there, leaning against the far wall with a beer in hand, that you spotted JJ. He was in conversation with someone, but when he noticed you approaching, he excused himself and made his way over to you, his easygoing smile a welcome reprieve from the intensity of Rafe's presence.

"Hey," JJ greeted, his voice a mix of concern and curiosity as he noticed the look on your face. "You okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."

You forced a smile, but it was weak and unconvincing. "Yeah, just needed some air. This place is a little... crowded."

JJ chuckled, nodding in understanding. "Yeah, it can get pretty wild in here. You sure you're good? You seem a little out of it."

His concern was genuine, and the warmth in his voice brought a fleeting sense of comfort. You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could say anything, JJ's eyes flicked past you, his expression darkening.

"Shit," he muttered, his body tensing as he stepped in front of you, partially shielding you from whatever had caught his attention.

You turned to see what had alarmed him and immediately wished you hadn't. Rafe was shoving his way through the crowd, his expression murderous, with Topper and Kelce right behind him, both trying to hold him back. But Rafe was a force of nature, his anger propelling him forward with a terrifying momentum.

"Rafe, man, calm down!" Topper urged, his voice strained as he grabbed Rafe's arm, trying to halt his advance. "You're making a scene!"

"Get off me!" Rafe snarled, shoving Topper away with a roughness that sent him stumbling. Kelce made a grab for Rafe's other arm, but Rafe jerked free, his eyes locked on you like a predator zeroing in on its prey.

"Rafe, stop!" Kelce shouted, trying to reason with him, but it was no use. Rafe was beyond reason, his fury blinding him to everything but the need to confront you.

JJ stepped closer to you, his voice low and urgent. "You need to get out of here, now. I'll handle Rafe."

But it was too late. Rafe broke free of Topper and Kelce's attempts to restrain him, his gaze never leaving you. He was on you in an instant, grabbing JJ by the collar and yanking him aside with a force that nearly knocked JJ off his feet.

"Get your hands off her!" Rafe roared, his voice echoing in the suddenly silent bar. JJ barely had time to recover before Rafe was on him, fists flying in a barrage of punches.

JJ tried to fight back, but Rafe was relentless, his anger fueling his every move. The sound of fists meeting flesh was sickening, and the sight of blood splattering across the floor made your stomach turn.

"Rafe, stop!" you cried, trying to intervene, but your voice was drowned out by the chaos. Topper and Kelce were yelling, trying to pull Rafe off JJ, but it was no use. Rafe was out of control, his fury consuming him.

In the midst of the struggle, someone—maybe it was JJ, maybe it was Rafe—threw a punch that missed its mark, and you were caught in the crossfire. The blow landed squarely on your temple, the force of it sending you reeling.

Pain exploded in your head, a bright, searing pain that seemed to radiate from the point of impact and spread through your skull. The room spun violently, the floor tilting beneath your feet as your vision blurred.

You staggered back, the sounds around you growing muffled as your senses dulled. You could hear the distant shouts of Topper and Kelce, the roar of Rafe’s anger, and JJ’s pained grunts, but it all seemed to come from a distance, as if you were hearing it through water.

Then the world tilted again, and you felt yourself falling. Your knees buckled, and you crumpled to the floor, the cold, sticky surface pressing against your cheek as the pain in your head intensified, a throbbing pulse that drowned out everything else.

The last thing you saw before darkness claimed you was the blurry outline of Rafe, his eyes wide with shock and horror as he realized what had just happened.

Did I just use the same scene again?

Yes.

But with more drama?

Yes.

[rinhaler]

It'll Probably End With Me Being Forgot

CHAPTER SUMMARY : you never thought you and yuuji were the type to keep secrets from each other, but he doesn't need to know megumi kissed you. maybe he already knows... why else would he be acting so weirdly?

boyfriend!yuuji itadori x f!reader x bully!megumi fushiguro

WARNINGS : 18+, consensual sex, vaginal sex, creampie, cum eating??, face sitting, praise kink, drug taking, bullying.

WORDS : 6.6k

notes : am I actually posting wusyaname on a friday?? wild

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“Nervous for tomorrow?”

Yuuji whispers as he lies flat on his stomach with his arm over yours. Nervous is a good word, a very apt word for how you should feel.

It’s Monday tomorrow.

Your alarm will be ringing in a few hours for you.

It’ll be your first day back at university since you were spiked. It’ll be the first time you go to your class and see the girls who publicly humiliated you. And it will be the first time you are in the classroom with Megumi again since you destroyed each other’s sketch books.

Nervous would be a good way to describe what you should be feeling.

But, honestly, after this weekend and seeing how little Toji needed to do to send the fear of God into his son, you didn’t feel nervous.

Megumi is a paper man, and his father had no hesitation to piss on his parade, making him a small pathetic pile of mush. You aren’t nervous, not one bit. You're confused however, and you're wracked with guilt.

Because you've decided not to tell Yuuji about the kiss.

So much has happened, so much has changed in so little time. It wasn’t so long ago that you could barely pry Yuuji away from your soft folds as he devoured your intimate flesh. He couldn’t get enough of you.

And you were always close to being late for class.

Today, however, you wake up and he does nothing but press a gentle kiss into your shoulder and instantly goes to get shower and dress for class.

Is he losing interest in you?

It's a ridiculous thought you shake away immediately.

He’s probably just… No.

What is wrong with him?

Or maybe it’s you. Something is wrong with you.

There's no use dwelling on it now, not when class is right around the corner. It’s best if you just focus on getting dressed and talk it out with him later.

You decide to swap out your usual paint covered leggings and baggy t-shirt for a nice pair of figure-hugging jeans and a scanty crop top. If that doesn’t remind him how much he loves being intimate with you; you don’t know if anything will. You finish painting your face with light makeup as Yuuji re-enters the bedroom with a towel wrapped around his waist.

Not even a glance in your direction.

It’s only been a day since you had the best, most intimate sex of your life. And now he isn’t even registering your existence. Your lip wobbles as you try and hold it together. It’s dawning on you what’s going on.

This is Megumi’s fault.

He’s got inside of your fucking head and he’s messing and warping with your sense of self and your worth.

Why did he fucking kiss you?

Yuuji knows.

He must know for him to be so distant with you. No, he doesn’t, you argue with yourself. You breathe through pouting lips and try to bat away the tears forming in your lash line.

You startle a little when you feel Yuuji’s hand cup your shoulder. You turn to face him, seeing that he's already dressed. That’s why he didn’t look at you. He was getting ready for class! He isn’t ignoring you.

Of course he doesn’t know about Megumi kissing you, how could he?

The hand on your shoulder travels upwards to cup your face. His lips find yours and every insecurity you’ve ever felt in your life dissipates. He pulls away, resting his forehead on yours, the tips of your noses touching gently together.

He's searching your eyes.

“You look amazing princess,” he states. Your eyes shut softly and a tear finally breaks free and rolls down your cheek. He quickly swipes it away with his thumb, he even warns you that you’ll ruin your makeup if you don’t cut it out. “you don’t have to do this today y’know? A lot happened to you, take another day… hell take another week if you need to.” he assures you.

God he’s so fucking sweet you think you might get tooth decay if he says anything else to you. He kisses your lips again, and then your forehead before crouching down and resting on the balls of his feet. He holds your hands, delicately rubbing his thumbs over your soft skin as he waits for you to speak.

“I want to,” you tell him honestly, “but I think the longer I leave it the harder it’ll be.” you confess. He nods. He brings your hands to his lips and kisses softly.

“Let’s get you to class then. I wanna show off my pretty girl.”

His fingers interlace with yours. It’s weird that you aren’t running through the halls together. You’re early, only by a few minutes, but still. You’re strolling through the building with not a single care in the world.

You lean back against the wall outside of your classroom, the usual spot where you’ve lost count of how many times he’s kissed you too intimately for public viewing. This time, he does kiss you, but it’s soft and gentle.

He has so much fear in his eyes. He’s terrified about leaving you here. With those vile fucking girls and that piece of shit he thought was his friend. You smile, though.

It’ll all be okay.

Yuuji scowls as he hears giggling. Your blood runs cold. The girls snicker as they see you and walk into the classroom. He wishes he could get them expelled or something. Anything to keep them away from you.

He notices the time on his watch, it’s creeping dangerously close to 9am. Regardless of how early you got here, Yuuji is still going to be rushing to his class. He engulfs you in a hug and you smile warmly.

“Text me if you need anything. Okay baby? Anything.”

You start to speak but you both notice a familiar silhouette out of the corner of your eyes. Megumi. You knew you’d see him again sooner or later, but his presence is all consuming and downright miserable.

Yuuji frowns, but nothing more. He knows Fushiguro isn’t so imbecilic to try anything in front of him. You hold Yuuji’s face and turn him to face you. His loving brown eyes stare into yours. Every crease and every pore of your beautiful face. He can tell from one minor change if you’re okay. So he’s examining hard.

“I’ll text you Yuuji, promise.”

He kisses you one last time and stands in the doorway as he watches you find somewhere to sit.

Megumi and the girls are sitting near the back, so he smiles when he sees you take a seat in the front row closest to the door. You smile back when you see him mouth ‘I love you’ to you. You do the same, and finally he runs down the hallway to his own class.

It's a pretty painless class all in all, you were definitely expecting worse. You hear the girls talking in an insanely high pitch as they attempt to flirt with Megumi.

But of course, he's his usual stoic self. You do your best to avoid turning to look at them. However, when you hear them snicker and say things like ‘she pissed herself in the club’ you want a hole to form under your seat and suck you into nothingness. Your eyes bulge when you hear something you hadn’t expected.

“Shut. Up.” Megumi speaks in annoyance. You know he isn’t defending you, he hates you after all. But it still makes you smile to hear the girls try and defend themselves.

“I thought you hated her Megumi!” the redhead whines.

“I thought I told you to shut up.”

Regardless of your three bullies making unnecessary comments in the back, there are three students around you that offer their support, telling you that they heard what happened and that they hope you’re okay.

It's nice knowing that you had other people around you and not just your boyfriend. Your classmates didn’t know the full extent to your ordeal, of course, but it was still appreciated.

You're surprised when you see Megumi begin to pack away early. Apparently, he has a dentist appointment. He ignores you as he walks by. He gives you nothing but the gust of wind that breezes by from his stride.

While everyone is getting on with their work for the last thirty minutes of class, your teacher approaches you to discuss your sketchbook.

If nothing else, you know the trauma of being spiked in the club would provide a perfect sob story to get you more time on your work.

You still hadn’t pinned the blame Megumi for ruining your sketchbook. What would be the point? He’d only retaliate that you did the same to his.

You took full responsibility for the ink incident, but with the help of your drugging ordeal, he offers you a hefty extension on your work, thank God. He spends the remainder of his lesson talking with you and giving you tips on how to create a new body of artwork.

“Megumi actually started again from scratch, for some reason, and he’s managed to get a lot done in a short period of time.” he tells you.

You nod along as if you don’t have a clue as to why Megumi would start again. You actually do feel a little bad that you ruined all of his hard work.

You were just as bad as him in that aspect.

He clearly puts a lot of time and effort into his drawings, but you ruined them all in an instant. But you only feel a little bad, since he did exactly the same to you.

But is it fair to be so petty?

“Perhaps you could ask him for some advice.” your lecturer suggests.

Your lips pull into a straight line. You have to think of something civil to say that won’t expose your burning hatred of the black-haired menace.

“I’ll think about it.”

Logically, you know that nothing bad will happen to you; but you begin packing away early so you can immediately sprint out of the room.

Without Megumi holding the girls back, you're worried that they might try and do something to you. You stick to your word and leave the room as quickly as your legs will take you.

Yuuji will be finishing his classes soon, too. You consider going to the sports hall to meet him, but you know he’ll be showering again and changing before coming to meet you. You head towards the exit, deciding it's smarter to wait by his car instead.

As you're rushing, you collide with another student. Thankfully neither of you drop anything like a classic cliché, however it is a cliché that the student you ram into happens to be Megumi.

Isn’t he meant to be at the dentist?

Before you can get away, he covers your mouth with his palm and pulls you into the boys toilets. He locks you both in a cubicle and he remains straight faced as you began to cry.

“Shut up, stop screaming, I’m not gonna do anything.” he tells you. Your chest is heaving, but you nod. He seems sincere, but it’s hard to tell with him. He uncovers your mouth. Your eyes squint as you examined his nose.

He looks like he wants to kill you when you began to smirk.

“Too much sugar on your donuts, Megumi.” you speak as you wiped a finger over your own nose. His eyes bulge as he understands what you mean in an instant, quickly swiping the back of his sleeve over his nose to clear away the coke he’d snorted. “What do you want from me?” you wonder.

“Yuuji seemed unusually calm when he saw me today.” he begins. You raise your eyebrows, prompting him to continue. “I can only assume that you didn’t tell him that we kissed.”

Your heart stops as he speaks. You raise a finger to your lips and repeatedly tell him to be quiet. Anyone could be in here listening to you talk. “First of all, you kissed. I slapped you away.” you whisper-shout. “I should tell him, really, I have no reason to protect you. Especially after this.” you threaten, he does nothing but roll his eyes at your idle threat.

“Unless you liked it,” you want to argue his point, but he interjects immediately. “I was high so don’t flatter yourself.”

“You’re high now, do I need to worry? Have you got more misery in store for me? Or are you going to do as your daddy tells you and leave me the fuck alone?” you question.

He leans back against the wall on the cubicle you’re squashed in together and he observes you. He thinks it must be nice to have as much power as you do, knowing your enemies weak spot.

His will always be Toji.

“I’m actually done with you,” he explains. You’re sceptical, it seems too good to be true. “I found out something very exciting at your parents house. Do you want to know?”

“I don’t care, honestly.”

“I wasn’t going to tell you anyway. It’s more fun for me that way, but just know you’re fucked… and it has nothing to do with me.” he explains as he opens the door. You push him backwards so that you can leave first. You look at him in the mirrors above the sinks before walking out.

“Goodbye, Megumi.”

You’re loitering around parking lot waiting for Yuuji. You recognise a car that pulls up, and you smile when you see a familiar face.

It’s Toji.

He beams when he sees you. You walk over to him and give him those polite rich people kisses on each cheek. You smile again when you notice another person step out of the car.

This car isn’t Toji’s; it’s hers. She introduces herself as Tsumiki, Megumi’s sister.

“Nice to meet you.” you tell her.

“Did the brat give you any trouble? We came to pick him up, wanted to keep an eye on him.”

You lie, shaking your head. You’re sure he’ll manage to shake the information out of his son if he really wants to. He examines the space around him, waiting to see when his son will turn up. You can tell he’s apprehensive. He’s never been a hands-on father before. It’s all new territory for him.

He notices you examining Tsumiki. He knows exactly what you want to ask, but you're too scared. You don’t want to sound offensive or rude.

“She’s not mine princess, my ex-wife’s kid.” Toji fills you in.

“Dad she didn’t ask,” Tsumiki huffs. “Sorry about him.”

“Don’t apologise for me she wanted to know; look you can tell by her face. Right?” he gestures you, he's looking at you over his sunglasses with raised eyebrows, so you nod.

It isn’t lost on you that she doesn’t have the same jet-black hair as the Fushiguro’s. But genetics works like that sometimes, however in this instance your instincts are correct.

Eventually Toji’s spawn arrives; looking meek and submissive under his father’s intense glare. Toji questions why he looks so guilty, but Megumi doesn’t say a word.

Tsumiki is clueless. She knows about a girl who got spiked after the police came to question Megumi, but she has no idea that girl is standing before her very eyes, and it was his fault after all.

Toji has no intention of telling her.

“You’re really sticking around then, huh Toji?” you ask with a cheeky smirk on your face. Megumi scowls, he was furious that you were daring to have banter with his fucking dad. He still hates you, but he knows he needs to be smart around you now. Only because his prick of a father is staying for the time being.

“Yeah, I am.” he replies. “Maybe I’m expected to be a decent father and learn from my mistakes, yeah?”

There's something about Toji that makes you feel safe. He's like your guardian angel. You feel untouchable with him nearby. And Megumi fucking hates that.

Those few hours you spent with him in your father’s study are the closest you’ve felt to having a real parental figure in your whole life.

The family all move to get into Tsumiki’s car. But before they can leave, they're all drawn to the yelling, sprinting, pink-haired boy approaching you. He wraps his arms around your neck and smothers your lips in passionate kisses.

“Hello to you too, Yuuji.” you giggle.

“We need to go home, I need you home, now.” he explains. Tsumiki coos over the cute display. Toji snickers, while Megumi is seething. Yuuji says quick hello's to Toji and Tsumiki while point-blank ignoring his ex-best friend.

“Someone’s keen,” Toji chuckles, “Wrap it up kid. Don’t wanna end up with one of him, do ya?” Toji speaks gesturing his thumb to the side, pointing directly at Megumi.

Your face flushes with heat, at that.

He’s so forward and he doesn’t care. Tsumiki smacks his arm lightly as she gets inside of her vehicle and starts it up. You and your boyfriend step closer to your own car, but before you can leave Megumi moves towards you.

“So fucking cute.” Megumi starts. “Such a shame that you're keeping secrets, right?” he torments. Yuuji continues walking to the car door so he can take you home.

“No one is listening to you Fushiguro.” Yuuji tells him as he snaps open the door. He's about to duck inside, but Megumi has one last thing to say.

You're panicking. Is he really going to tell him?

Is he really about to spill, right fucking now, that you shared a kiss?

“Get in the fucking car ya little bastard.” Toji hisses as he grabs under his sons arm and tries to pull him away. Megumi snatches it back and gets closer to you. But he keeps his body positioned so that it's facing Itadori.

“I walked past the sports hall earlier, Yuuji, very interesting presentation I saw through the window.” Megumi smiles evilly. Yuuji slammed the door and gets closer to your bully.

“Shut the hell up,”

“Agreed, shut your fucking mouth.” Toji speaks as he slaps Megumi upside the head. “You deaf kid? I said: get in the fucking car.” he finishes, finally dragging his son around and shoving him into the backseat. “Can’t fucking help yourself, can you? Stop interfering in that girl’s life.” you hear him in the distance before slamming the door and sealing Megumi inside.

Whatever doubts you had about Yuuji this morning are quickly dashed. He buries them in a coffin and forces the nails in as he practically rips your clothes off your body.

He can’t keep his hands off you.

His gentle fingers caress each and every inch of your body while his lips do the same with soft, peppered kisses.

The days of him thinking you're made of glass seem like a distant memory as he fucks you. The slow, deep, lazy sex you had at your parent’s house is long forgotten.

He's like an animal, really giving it his all as he fucks you from behind. You're screaming and crying into the pillows. He doesn’t fail to tell you how much he loves you, either.

But you already knew that.

You convulse around him, and he empties himself inside of you. It's deep and creamy, and he's enamoured by the equally thick and creamy ring forming around the base of his cock as he kept drilling into you.

And it doesn’t end there.

He doesn’t care that your cunt is stuffed full of his seed. Yuuji pulls you around like a ragdoll as he lies flat against the bed.

His face is your throne.

And you're royalty in his eyes.

“Please princess, please. Need you to sit f’me, okay?” he looks up at you with pleading eyes. Something Yuuji Itadori has never been shy about since the day you met him is his love for eating pussy. In these few months you’ve been dating, you’ve never been let to forget that.

He praises what tasty slick you have, the best he’s ever consumed. So, to have you deny him of his fountain of youth, from his taste of heaven, has been unbearable.

“Need it s’bad baby. Please. Pleaaaase let me taste you.”

Who are you to deny him?

His arms lock around your thighs. You hold one hand against the wall to stabilize yourself and your other laces through his pastel pink locks. You bite your bottom lip as he sucks at your sensitive bead.

He's so needy and desperate; you can tell he hadn’t gotten to enjoy licking at your folds for a few days. It makes you shudder when you feel him suck his cum out of your hole and spit it back in.

“Oh God…” you sigh. Your heart rate soars. You aren’t going to last much longer. But that's a good thing for Yuuji. That’s exactly what he wants. “Yuuji—!” you cry.

His palms slap onto your ass and he pulls your heat closer to his face. He really wants you to sit. He squeezes your flesh tightly, it's a signal for you to cum. He doesn’t dare pull away and risk wasting a second of consuming your flavour as you straddled his head.

You can hear him though.

He’d be saying something like ‘go ahead and cum, princess’ so you do. You hum and groan through the pleasure of his tongue laving and sucking your clit and he loves the way your legs tremble.

You climb off of him and he sits upright. He locks a hand around the back of your head and pulls you in for a crashing intimate kiss. You think he might want to go for another round for a minute, but it slows. He kisses your cheek before turning you around and pulling you to lie down with him. Yuuji plays with your hair and your eyelids feel heavier.

“What was that all about, Yuuji? Not that I’m complaining.”

He wraps his arms around you and kisses into the crown of your head. “Does there need to be a reason? I just love you baby.” he reminds you, kissing you again.

“I love you too.” you smile. But you can’t relax, because something is playing on your mind. It had been playing on your mind the whole car ride home, but you didn’t want to mention it. It was even in the back of your brain while he fucked you into oblivion. “What was Megumi talking about before? The sports hall presentation?” you query.

You feel Yuuji’s body tense up against you.

Maybe you should have kept it to yourself.

“What? Are we listening to Fushiguro now?” he asks, anger clear in his tone.

“No! It’s just—”

He rises to his feet, quickly pulling his clothes back on and heading towards the bedroom door to leave.

Hopefully he’ll tell you in his own time.

His stare is kinder as you approach him later. He welcomes you to join him on the sofa with open arms. So, you hop quickly towards him and sit in his lap. You nestle into his chest as he strokes your body sensually with his thumbs.

“Hey,” he whispers hoping to get your attention without startling you. Your eyes find his, those beautiful hazel hues, and you feel as safe as can be. He looks… sad. His eyes are glossy, and he kisses your forehead forcefully. “What we did today princess, I need to do that every day.” he tells you.

“What do you—?”

“Please, please don’t make me explain. I love you, you get that, right? So please, I need to be with you like that every day.” he tells you. He's literally begging you. Begging for your body every single day. That isn’t something you could promise.

What has gotten into him?

“Yuuji I just don’t—”

“Baby!” he yells. He feels you jump in his arms and pulls you closer into his body again, shushing and cooing.

He’s sorry, he is, he’s really sorry.

He doesn’t know what’s gotten over him, he never ever yells at you.

You don’t understand and he can’t explain just yet.

“You know I’d never make you do anything you don’t wanna, right baby? Just this one thing, I need you to do this for me.” he tells you. His two hands hold your whole face and he looks at you with those pleading eyes. You don’t know what’s going on, but you can’t refuse him when he’s looking at you like that.

“Okay.”

You do as he asks, every single day.

It’s only Friday, but you wonder how much longer this is going to go on before he gives you the explanation you're patiently waiting for.

But it didn’t come.

He had the perfect opportunity to tell you when you went out for your usual Friday lunch into town, but he chose not to. Instead telling you about his classes.

You kiss him goodbye as you head towards the art building.

Would Fushiguro be so stupid as to think he’s still entitled to share your cubicle space with you?

Yes.

He doesn’t look at you though, maybe he’ll leave you alone today. Although that seems painfully optimistic.

He almost ignores you as you come in and find your seat. But he can’t completely, how could he when you looked like that? You’re always so glamorous and well put together, usually. But today, you’re in sweats with no makeup.

You’d be embarrassed to tell anyone the reason; but the truth is you were so fucked out from Yuuji going to town on you every single night with no reprieve.

“Not looking so high and mighty today, princess.” Megumi mutters. “In fact, you look depressed.” he adds.

“God. My fucking God. Seriously. Christ. Shut the fuck up.” you moan. Maybe the sentence was a little extreme. But with Yuuji keeping secrets and Megumi getting his digs in, you couldn't take it. “Did you... never mind—” you decided to keep schtum.

You wonder for a brief second if the reason Yuuji was so desperate to be intimate with you was because he knew about the kiss. But if he did, you’re sure Megumi would be in a hospital bed rather than in your personal space.

“No, I didn’t. Stop fucking talking about it. It didn’t mean anything so shut your fucking mouth.” Megumi hisses through gritted teeth. “Neither of us want anyone finding out, seems like one thing we agree on, so stop bringing it up.” Megumi finishes.

You nod in agreement. If anyone finds out, you'll be mortified. Although you didn’t do anything wrong – it would seem so much worse than it is since you didn’t immediately confess the truth to Yuuji. Although, he seems to have a dirty secret of his own.

“Interesting that you decided to keep it to yourself, though. Why?” Megumi contradicts himself as he presses for more information. You lean over to him, hissing back at him just as he had to you.

“Don’t you think you’ve blown into my life like a hurricane and fucked up enough?”

You sit back upright as your lecturer approaches your cubicle. He commends how well the two of you are getting along, going as far as to compliment you for taking Megumi under your wing.

You cringe with embarrassment as he mentions the fact you’d discussed him helping you build your sketchbook back up to full health. Megumi smirks at that. Your lecturer leaves you be, and your eyes weld shut as you feel Megumi turn to you with a wicked grin.

“What do you say, princess? Gonna let me help you out?”

“I’d rather die, actually.”

“That can be arranged.”

You scoff, deciding it would be best to focus on your work once again. You need all of the help you can get in restoring it to its former glory.

Your blood freezes over as you feel Megumi’s seat scrape across the floor. He has no reason to get up other than to go to the bathroom or to taunt you.

He brings all of his own equipment and he doesn’t use paint so he had no use for going to the sinks to get water to clean paintbrushes. You jolt as you feel one of his hands rest on your shoulder and the other on your thigh. He lets his head settle carefully on your other shoulder.

He's examining your sketchbook.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you ask him.

“You’ve done more work than I expected in such a short time, especially after your… unfortunate drinking incident.” he hums, the vibrations go through your ear and make you shudder. He smirks at that. “I think you can do better than this.”

“Okay.” you huff. “Now, tell me what you really want.” you utter, it's like he's undeserving of the effort of your breath. Complete derision drips from your tongue.

He turns his head so his mouth is level with your ear; he wants each and every word he speaks to cut deep.

“I was just wondering if Yuuji has told you about the sports hall presentation I stumbled across yet.” he whispers. The soft lilt in his tone tumbles straight into your ear canal. You want to turn and face him, but when your head moves a little you consider that his lips might find yours again.

“Why don’t you tell me Megumi?”

He tuts, and tuts, and tuts some more. “Oh… I couldn’t do that.” he expresses. “You heard my old man tell me not to interfere, right? I’m sure Mister Perfect will tell you when he’s good and ready.”

He's being sarcastic and patronising. But still, he's right. You’re sure he’ll tell you…

All in good time…

You gather your things and leave class. It actually doesn’t irritate you that Megumi is walking by your side.

He’s quite tolerable when he’s quiet.

You're a little confused when you arrive at the car park. Yuuji’s car is nowhere to be seen. Toji’s is, though. He steps out to say hello to you again.

“Somethin’ wrong sweetheart?” he wonders.

“Yuuji’s car isn’t here, I don’t—”

“Get in, I’ll take you home.” he says as he opens a door for you to hop in. You nod in agreement. But you think you better text Yuuji in case he comes back to find you.

Having Toji around is really coming in handy for you.

And maybe, just maybe, it’ll help Megumi work through his issues too.

The car ride is awkward as Megumi refuses to speak. Toji makes him sit in the back, like a little kid.

His dad doesn’t care that he's pouting, though. He's being sweet and talkative, asking you about your day and your classes. He picks up on your appearance too, but he isn’t rude about it. He simply asks if everything is okay, and you nod.

You think so, at least.

He waves goodbye through the window as you get out of the car. You're staring at your front door as Megumi gets out and sits in the front. They drive away, and you're still staring.

Why were you so nervous?

Your stomach sinks as you enter the bedroom you share with your boyfriend. He halts all movements and he looks like a deer in headlights.

He's… packing.

Why the fuck is he packing?

“You’re leaving me—?” you ask him.

“No! Baby, I didn’t want you to find out like this that’s why I came home early.” he tells you as he comes closer to you, but you back away, and it made his heart ache. You’ve never avoided his touches before, you’ve never evaded his desire to love you. “Please let me just—”

“You are. Oh my God! You’re fucking leaving me!” you cry. He's rambling about how badly you need to listen to him, to hear him out. But you can’t. “It's really something that I should have trusted Fushiguro over you.” you spit. You immediately regret saying it, but it's too late to take it back now.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

“Don’t dare try and take the moral fucking high ground when you’re packing your bags to run out on me.” you clap back. He runs his fingers through his hair and sits with his head in his hands on the side of the bed. “You know what?” you ask as you drop to your knees. “I’ll help you pack.” you lie, zipping up his suitcase and picking it up to throw down the stairs.

“Stop it! Put it down!” Yuuji shouts. He wraps his arms around your body so you could do nothing but wriggle and writhe against him.

“Let me go! I hate you! I fucking hate you, Yuuji!” you bawl as you do all you can to get free. Tears stream down your face as you lie to him. You just want to hurt him like he's hurting you.

But it's not just hurting him.

It's killing him to hear you say something so vile.

He knows you don’t mean it, but it's still the worst pain he’s ever felt.

He manages to pull you down onto the bed and subdue you. His eyes water as you burst into loud, unforgiving tears and cover your face. He’s gone about things in the worst possible way. He should have known it would turn out like this, but he really thought he was doing the right thing.

“Baby.” he whispers.

You uncover your face and he was hovers above you. You stop crying for a moment, and he hates how bright and shiny your face was with glittering tears.

It’s his fault.

And yet, for some reason your heart is racing. His face lowers and your hands clasp around the back of his head. Your swollen puffy lips found his in a deep, bruising kiss. You feel all of the air in your lungs escape. You couldn’t get enough of him. How could you say you hate him when you there is so much tension between you to kiss him like this?

But you remember his suitcase and push him away. You swipe the back of your hand over your lips and gather your breath.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, why did you kiss me? Stay the fuck away from me Yuuji.” you pant, your tears breaking free again.

“BABE! Please! You’re so fucking stubborn will you let me talk?” he yellS. “I’m not fucking leaving you, I promise. Not like you think, I need you to let me explain.” he states. You're receptive, but still terrified.

“Not like I think?”

He opens his arms, inviting you inside. You're hesitant, but allow it. He lets out a little chuckle and shakes his head when you ask him if he’s met another girl.

You are and will always be the only girl for him.

He pulls you both down, so you're lying on your sides with your heads on the soft pillows. Your eyes focus on his as you allow him to speak.

“The presentation Fushiguro was talking about, it was about a trip. And it’s mandatory.” he tells you.

This is the best possible outcome.

He isn’t leaving you and he hasn’t met someone else.

Did he really think you were going to go crazy over a weekend trip?

“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want us both to be upset about me leaving. I just wanted to love you as much as I could and have as much sex as possible before I had to go.” he sniffles.

That’s not the type of thing you say when you’re only leaving for a weekend. Your lip wobbles and your eyes filled again.

This is killing him.

He doesn’t want to fucking go. He doesn’t.

“How long will you be gone?” you weep. His eyes close as he tries to hold back his own tears. He isn’t ignoring you, but he knows as soon as he answers it's real. “How long Yuuji.” you whimper.

He breathes. Tears leave his eyes silently, but he quickly wipes them away. “Three months.” he answers, his voice cracked and broken. You break down into tears again and he hugs you closer to him. How are you going to live without him for three whole months? “I’m so- I’m so s-sorry.” he mutters, trying to control his breaking voice.

“Where will you— How far are you g-going?”

“It’s um, a tour of Europe.”

You feel your heart tear and tear with each sentence he speaks.

You’ll be alone in the house with no one to come home to and cuddle each day and night. No one to talk about your day with or tell you about their own. You’ve had relationships end and felt less pain than this.

He's quite literally your other half. The only person who could possibly complete the puzzle of your heart and you're losing that for three months.

“Please just uh- I need you to,” he stumbles over his words. Unable to process what he was actually about to ask, to speak. “Please tell me you don’t really hate me. You don’t, do you? I love you, I love you. Please, I need you to tell me you don’t really hate me…” he speaks with minimal voice breakage.

Tears roll out of his eyes but he manages to keep strong. You, however, are a mess. How could you say something so abhorrent to the man you love, the person you loved more than anything in the world? You wrap your body around him. Crying into him heavily and kiss him all over.

“I love you Yuuji, I’m so so sorry.” you blubber. “I could never hate you. I’m sorry, Yuuji I’m so fucking sorry. I love you; I do. I really fucking love you.”

You're sick. You don’t want to eat, to go to the bathroom, to sleep. You don’t want to waste a single second of time with him.

“I have to leave on Sunday.” he speaks into your hair, almost silencing his voice. After tonight you have one day together. One day before he leaves you for three months.

“I feel like I’m dying.” you confess. He kisses your neck before speaking again.

“I know. Me too.”

© 2021 fuwushiguro | © 2024 rinhaler

[dvrtrblhr]

omg hiii your Dimiclaudes are gorgeous and I adore the snippets of writing you add to the pieces 💛💙

aaa thanks a lot! i love drawing them forever, so i'm happy others also enjoy it lol

anyway, i searched my folders for a sketch i hadn't posted and i found this one:

and the scene that comes with it below:

As if to prove that point, while they followed the locals through the tunnels that would lead them to Abyss, Claude noticed that Dimitri was throwing glances at him and looking sulky.

“What is it?” Claude asked in a whisper. Dimitri glanced at him and sulked some more. It was starting to get annoying.

“You don’t think I can take him,” he answered finally. Claude couldn’t help the way his mouth fell open in disbelief. Out of all things, that was what bothered him. It was that kind of moment that made Claude very aware of how different they really were. “Honestly, he’s not even that big. He’s shorter than Dedue, I think.”

“Dedue, who is probably the tallest, biggest person in the whole monastery,” Claude rebutted mostly because Dimitri’s remark was so absurd. “Anyway, did I say that you couldn’t take him? I don’t think so.” They walked in silence for a while longer before Claude continued, “I don’t see why you would want to risk getting hurt because of something so silly. It’s not even your specialty. Or did you forget that you excel in sparring with a lance? That long pole with a sharp tip that keeps the enemy at a safe distance, remember?”

“Why are you so sure I’m going to lose though?” Dimitri asked, still looking offended.

“I’m not! In this stupid thing called fist fighting even the winner gets hurt. Now, if brawling is what you want, then go ahead! Just don’t expect me to cheer for you or kiss your bruises better, all right?” he replied, equally perplexed and irritated, then noticed what he had just said and looked around to see that they had, fortunately or not, fell behind the rest of their group so he continued, “What were you expecting, Dimitri? Did you think I would swoon at your manliness? I’m sorry, but that… doesn’t really impress me. Now, you want to know what impresses me? Your kindness, passion and sincerity.”

It was Dimitri’s turn to be speechless, it seemed. Claude immediately thought he had said too much and felt his face flush at his own corniness. Then Dimitri's hands were caressing his cheeks softly, tilting his head upwards so he could kiss his lips gently. It was the kind of touch that made Claude forget why doing that at such time and place was a really bad idea.

“You are right, I’m sorry,” Dimitri said quietly, still cradling his face in his hands, “There’s one thing, though. You are too kind, Claude. Kinder than I could ever hope to be. And kinder than I deserve.”

Claude wanted to protest about such a useless comparison and about Dimitri’s supposed unworthiness. It was something that had crept into their conversations from time to time, how Dimitri seemed to think he was somehow a bad person. It made no sense considering the effort he put into being as good and helpful as he could, sometimes to the point of exhaustion. He didn’t say anything, though, it was such a pleasant moment… He really didn’t want to ruin it with an argument, not even an important one he had been procrastinating for a while. And Dimitri was kissing him again, his lips, his cheeks, his neck. He might really turn to mush if that continued.

Then they heard the sound of footsteps and they were quickly pulling away from each other. Edelgard appeared by the corner looking sour.

"What are you two doing?" she asked irritably.

Golden Dawn, Chapter 20, Wind - Underground

[fabdante]

if anyone wants to know how this is going, the wire is arriving a day later then expected and i have spent the free time editing a bunch of random fan fic i have not touched in several years for fandoms i barely write for anymore

we're having fun

guess who's tablet wire, after being defective since i bought it but clinging to life anyway, finally shit the bed after two back to back snow storms which means the new one is delayed and im already super behind on alice in grungeland

[mering]

letter: dear mer i watched all your lifesteal animatics/animations on youtube (2 of which id never seen before) during a watchparty with some friends a couple days ago. they were awesome and im still thinking about certain parts of them. particularly the movement of vitalasys hands in gash on the cheek after being stabbed, noticing your vitalasy design has a fox muzzle mask(!!!) in even the dogs, and. the entirety of luddites & lambs. the blocks. well i giggled but i quite enjoyed the zam & subz boat scene inclusion & the dramatic shot of block subz on block hors. your shot composition and camera movement is really inspiring and clean even in your unfinished works. ok aaaand signed xoxoxo🪲

THANK YOUUUU <3333333333 i'm glad the hand movement in gash on the cheek stuck with you ^w^ i really like animating pov shots of hands because it's crazy easy to reference. on account of you can just look down. which means i can get subtler movement that feels pretty natural...

my vitalasy went through a lot of iterations. mask makes sense because he's defined by trying to control how he's perceived, but i like the maskless face because it means you will always see his emotions. here's a sketch from around the same time i made even the dogs & a quick attempt at how it would look on my current vitalasy:

luddites & lambs was one of my very first ever attempts at lifesteal fanart (almost exactly a year ago to the day ? wow...) and i can't remember what exactly possessed me to do it blockstyle. i think in part it was because that meant i didn't have to worry about character/set design at all. and because i was so immediately taken with how lifesteal is unequivocally a story about minecraft and how the game functions that not literally representing that felt like it was losing something. plus it maintains the tone of the thing as funny and a little absurd.

which makes the contrast between luddites & lambs and gash on the cheek really funny because you can see how dramatically the way i thought about it all changed over time. when i did luddites & lambs i was still in the process of watching through season 4, which is why it's focused on castle arc/leviathan/early eclipse. but in late s4, while it's still about the game, there is suddenly so much more of a human element. like, straight up drawing the cubes invokes the idea that it's a game with people playing it but you don't see the people, and at a certain point it started feeling like you had to see the people in order to accurately represent the emotional stuff that happens, when gameplay itself becomes so secondary to any of the most important parts of the story. you can draw cubes fighting each other but you can't really draw cubes displaying subtle body language

[truths33k3r4]

What are the moments/phrases/comments that can REALLY set the turtles off?

SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG FOR ME TO ANSWER I NEEDED TO DRAW MORE PANELS FOR ITTTTTT

Hey, Anon! :)

As per usual, I will go answer your question going through each turtle at a time. :)

Donatello - There are a slew of different things that set Don off~ The main ones being when things (somehow) don't make sense to him, and ESPECIALLY when someone talks down to HIM when THEY are the ones being a colossal twit. If you don't have the facts to back up your theory or opinion, then DO NOT SHARE UNLESS YOU'RE PREPARED FOR IT TO BE DESTROYED BEFORE YOUR EYES. If you can't take the cold-hard facts of life, then go live in a Fantasy novel.

Raphael - Like his twin, Raph has many things that annoy him and force him to resort to exploding like a volcano. The biggest one for him is when his home is just. Too. LOUD. It is very difficult to focus on sketching in your notebook when the obnoxious screeches of your little brother fill the air around you. The explosion reaches a crescendo when he realizes he accidentally poked his pencil through his sketchbook...

Leonardo - As someone who's normally quite calm in nature, Leo rarely loses his temper or shows emotions that he doesn't want to. But his precious composure sometimes crumbles into dust when his family doesn't communicate to him. This is especially true if it involves concealed injuries that are kept from him, the Team Medic. The art down below is based on what occurs in this chapter of my story, when Leo catches Raph hiding wounds he got from his time in the dreaded labs.

Lotus - This girl's temper rivals that of the twins. She has a difficult time toning down her fireworks of emotions since being saved from the labs that forced her to be silent. Her temper especially appears when someone (in person or in a tv show or film), convinces another weaker or shy person to act how they want: Manipulation, gaslighting, dehumanizing, etc. The brothers quickly learn to never pick any kinds of movies with that kind of villain, just to keep Lotus from spiraling into the unwanted memories of her past.

Michelangelo - The most rare to ever lose his temper given his sunny and chill personality, Mikey has to be pushed to his very LIMIT in order to explode like Raph or Don. Simple arguments don't do all that much besides annoy him, (just because of the fact that his brothers are fighting), but what really gets to him is when a fight lasts longer than it ever should have, and neither person involved is effectively communicating. Just... ARGUING. This is when he *lovingly* reminds them to look at their pride, KILL IT, and then focus on correctly fixing the dispute between the two.

Thanks for the question!! These were REALLY FUN to draw!! :)

To God be the glory!

~ Melissa

[espinosaurusrexex]

The Trap - Introduction

Worlds Collide Collection

BuckyBarnes x Female!Reader apocalypse au

summary: Welcome to the apocalypse. This is the introduction to the new world you're about to enter. Let's see what your life is like. Do me a favor and be open, and maybe there'll even be a handsome stranger to meet...

a/n: so this is heavily influenced by The 100 and Love and Monsters and I guess also Maze Runner, if it seems chaotic at times, that’s because it is. With that being said: have fun reading i’d love to hear what you think 

word count: 2.2k

warnings: grumpy/sunshine, mentions of death and misery, loneliness, dystopia, nuclear weapon and monster stuff, obnoxiously optimistic reader (give her a chance okay)

collection playlist | main masterlist | collection masterlist

May 10th 2039

Hey Book,

Here are the things that happened today:

found a new pen (that’s great because this one is running out)

watched the acid fog from the building with the tall glass roof (pretty dope if you ask me!)

went to the west border and saw new tracks

finally got the nose right on that Gordon Ramsey sketch (it’s finished, yay!)

gave Berty a makeover

The day has been pretty sweet. I’m thinking of going out tonight to watch the meteor shower. Hope I don’t die.

Anyway, see ya tomorrow!

   ~You know who :)

The notebook closed with a loud thud that made even you twitch. Your eyes went to the basketball on the shelf above the makeshift bed.

“Sorry, Berty.” The ball didn’t respond, obviously. Its plastic wig shifted slightly further over the marker eyes, making it seem all crooked and funny looking. You weren’t crazy. You just preferred not to talk to yourself. 

A look at the window told you that it had gone dark by now. The weather conditions weren’t too great for another acid fog so your plan was good to go. You grabbed your backpack and headed out to the cliffs where you had the best view. Ever since the apocalypse started, there were a lot more stars visible at night. Half the population had been wiped out with the Hydra nukes and the rest played survivor with the mutated animals roaming the earth due to the atomic bombs that had been fired on that day. 

You remembered it vividly actually: Bright beams shooting through the sky and then it rained down like hellfire. Green glowing stripes covered the horizon from where you looked down onto the city.

The world hadn’t been that great to begin with to be honest. People were suffering, water and food supplies had shifted into the negative, and don’t even get started on climate. Humans had collectively decided that their planet was going to waste anyway. So, where was the harm in a little more destruction, right?

It’s not like you or any other normal citizen had had a chance to decide on another outcome anyway. The united governments of the world had been infiltrated by an organization with fucked up values and no sense for common human decency. They didn't care that their bombs would wipe out half of the world’s population. Hell, you’d be surprised if they even considered this an argument for their ‘cons’ column. But, hey, it had one benefit after all: if this was the worst it could get, there was nothing left to lose.

You kicked open the door of the buried school bus that had become your temporary home for a while now. Temporary in the sense that there was no way of knowing what would happen or when something would attack. You tried to make them all as cozy as possible though. Berty was a big part of that attempt. The painted basketball had become a loyal companion in your ever-shifting habitats. And even though it was a pain to transport a so unfortunately shaped object, you would never dare leave it behind. 

The humid evening air hit you like a broken fan. It was springtime, but that had stopped to matter many years ago. The weather merely shifted between scorching hot days and bearable nights. Though the wintertime was making being outside a little more doable. The trees hung low over your head when you stepped past the traps you had laid out around your home. You lived at the edge of the forest, which wasn’t the most secure place of all the ones you’ve had so far, but it was a little cooler. Most of the dangerous things out there hid several miles from the tree lines anyway. 

A dark sky stretched over your head as your feet dangled off the cliff by the forest. You were munching off an old can of beans that you had found on your stroll through the cities as the bright streams of light shot through the sky. It was beautiful and thrilling. Teetering you on the edge of remembering the very day that made this whole shit show go down. The sky was lit up back then too, but it wasn’t half as beautiful as this.

You could have sat like this for hours. The meteors wouldn’t stop passing until the sun rose, but there was a danger of being tired in broad daylight in this world. You couldn’t risk strolling through the morning with half a working brain. Especially because the morning brought a routine acid fog with its sunlight. You took a look at the tactical watch on your wrist. It was 3:30 am - Probably best to head back to safety.

As you stepped through the dried ground, you hummed a song from the old record in your bus. It didn’t work great and it was broken in several places which had you always listening to a slightly messed-up remix of the actual song, but you liked it anyway. Close to the bus, however, there was rustling from the side. Your body went into surviving mode immediately. There was a routine: hide, listen, escape. Only idiots fought whatever was out there. 

So that’s what you did.

The tree you hid behind was wide enough to cover you whole, which gave you easy access to sneak your head past the trunk and see what was making the noise. It came from about 20 feet before the buried bus, but there was nothing to be seen. The rustling continued though and as you stepped forwards from your cover, you noticed that it came from underneath. Something had fallen into your trap! It was foolproof of course, but you still approached it with care, fearfully and intrigued all together as to what you had caught this time... well, it was the first time here to be perfectly honest. Even more exciting to say the least.

Your feet crunched the dried leaves beneath you as a mumbled curse reached your ears. That was weird. Last time you checked, monsters didn’t talk. You were even more surprised, however, to find a broad man tangled in the hole you had dug outside your home. Of course, a person had been stupid enough to walk into your trap. You had been so excited about something more dangerous. 

The man had not noticed you standing above the hole just yet. He was still working with the net you had splayed out beneath the fallen leaves, too busy cursing his life away in the dirty opening. You cleared your throat after a minute, though. And as amusing as the whole scene had been, the man looking up at you wiped the smirk off your face immediately. He was gorgeous. Bright blue eyes gleamed up in the moonshine, a deep frown on his face as soon as the surprise to see you had faded.

“You got caught in my trap.” You said blankly, still captured by his face. You had not seen another person in nearly a month. It was strange, to say the least. That’s why you weren’t really expecting your mouth to say anything smart.

“This is supposed to be a trap?” The brown-haired man huffed before cutting through the last rope to free him from his restraints.

“Well you can’t get out, can you?” There was a short silence in which you caught the slightest hint of disbelief in his eyes.

“If you wanted to catch a monster with that, you wouldn’t be making such snarky comments. It’s barely deep enough for them.”

Anger crept up your neck. Who was this stranger to not only fall into your - awesome - intruder trap but also criticize your work even though he was the idiot stuck in it? “Why do you think I wanted to trap monsters? Maybe my trap was for people, which, in that case, it is brilliant.”

“It’s stupid,” he grumbled. 

“Oh come on give me a little credit, I only had spare materials.”

There was the confused glare again, and you couldn’t really place it just yet.“Yeah, yeah. Trap’s great now get me out.”

“That wasn’t genuine.” Your arms crossed before your chest, but you couldn’t hide the small smile forming on your lips. This was fun.

“You know what’s gonna be genuine? My foot in your ass once I get out of here.” Oh, not so fun.

“That's not a really good way to make me help you, you know?” You were about to step away when you heard him sigh deeply beneath you. A triumphant smirk appeared on your face before you held your head over the hole again.

“Can you please help me out of this genius trap?” The Brunette was rolling his eyes, but it was good enough for you - after all, you didn’t want to make enemies just yet.

“Why of course! I love people that appreciate good handy work!”

You nodded appreciatively and reached for the net he held your way. It took a little bit to get enough momentum but then he jumped and dug his boots into the soil walls and within seconds, the stranger was pulled up from the ground. 

“Drop the bullshit.”

“What bullshit?”

Now that he was standing in front of you like that, you noticed how tall he was, and built, too. It was a wonder you had managed to pull his weight out of there now that you thought about it. He was really handsome, too. His dark hair fell into his face and his eyes were bright blue, staring down at you with a gloomy expression. It didn’t scare you, though. You were more... fascinated by him, really.

He looked at you for a second, and the gears were literally turning behind his eyes. But he caught himself quickly, shaking his head and making his way out of the forest. You weren’t ready to have him leave, though. It was rare to meet people now, and this one seemed entertaining enough.

“Hey, where are you going?”

“Away.” You barely heard him over the heavy footsteps he pressed into the ground.

“You can’t go!”

That made him stop. The stranger turned around with an unfazed expression, his shoulders hanging low with annoyance, but you wouldn’t let up. “And why’s that?”

Shit, you hadn’t thought it would get this far. Your hands wrung the net as you stood there looking for an explanation. But the guy turned around with a condescending clicking of his tongue. “Wait! You haven’t told me your name.” You shuffled over to him in haste, you steps faster than his, but it was difficult to catch up to him, still.

“I don’t have to.”

“You do, actually. It’s a rule.” He stopped again, and you almost fell at the abrupt halt.

“A rule,” he repeated in disbelief, his face still unimpressed, but he was quite pretty this way.

You smiled. “Yup. You fall into my trap, you tell me your name.” To be honest, you were a little proud at how fast you had come up with the idea, but it seemed the stranger was still not impressed. He just crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows at you almost amused.

“That's not a rule.”

“It’s my rule.” Was that a tiny smile creeping onto his features? You liked it - looked way better than those broody anger lines.

Then he huffed and shook his head. “Bucky.”

“Gesundheit,” you answered immediately, but that seemed to stick that annoyed look right back onto his handsome face.

“No. Bucky is my name.” Oops.

“Oh. Sorry.” You tried it out in your head, then. And it suited him quite nicely. It was a little odd but witty - just like him. 

“Whatever.” His arms untangled before his broad chest and Bucky looked ready to leave again. You didn’t want that, though.

“Would... uh.. would you like to come in?” Why were you so nervous all of a sudden? Your hands were a little sweaty, but talking to someone that actually responded felt so good...

You earned another look with that question. Really, you’d already gotten used to those in the three minutes you knew him - seemed to be his M.O. 

“What?” He wasn’t confused this time, at least you didn’t think so. It sounded more like he hadn’t heard you.

“You know... be my guest.” A bright smile spread on your lips, but Bucky wasn’t buying it, and frankly, you were running out of ideas to keep him here. Normally, people were happy to see others around here, but Bucky? He didn’t seem to like talking very much.

“Sorry, gotta go.”

Your eyes found the ground as you heard his steps distancing from you again. “Oh, ok.” You mumbled to yourself, and with a last wash of hope, you called out again. “Will I see you again?”

“No.” He was already by the tree line, now. And Bucky didn’t seem like the type of person to run back the distance in slow-mo like you had seen in those old films. 

It didn’t discourage you, though. “Okay, you know where to find me!”

“Not gonna visit you!”

“See ya soon!” You waved and bit back a triumphant smile when you heard him chuckle before he disappeared out of the woods. 

Hey, Book, It’s me again.

And, man, what a great day!

more…

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[aurumacadicus]

Oh no just had a really mean thought.

The team thinks that Tony's a guy who would love rollercoasters. He's a thrill seeker to his core. He drives fast cars and does barrel rolls in the suit that make even Rhodey turn a little green at the thought. The only one who can really keep up with him is Carol, and she goes ashen when she hears Tony blithely explain how he learned (and subsequently fixed) his icing problem when he first went into the upper atmosphere.

So they are stunned when Tony starts gathering hats and cellphones and purses and goes to sit down in the shade until everyone has ridden their fill at the theme park.

"We can take turns holding stuff," Bruce offers, because he's not going to ride all of the rides. Just a few. More would be a strain. "You can ride the next one."

"I'm not getting on a rollercoaster," Tony says, voice clipped, in such a way that even Clint doesn't want to wheedle him.

Everyone keeps asking throughout the day, though. They don't want him to feel left out or neglected. This is a team bonding experience! It doesn't seem fair that they're all having fun while Tony is sitting out. (Tony procures a fruity cocktail from somewhere, mostly to wave it at them aggressively every time they ask.)

Steve goes to grab his satchel to sit with Tony and maybe do some practice sketches when he notices Tony's grip on it very deliberately change from white-knuckled to casually loose. It doesn't make sense. Tony's not even on the rides, and he's mentioned how safe they are these days. "...Do you," he begins, then stops, unsure how to proceed.

"No I don't," Tony cuts in sharply, apparently assuming Steve was going to ask if he wanted to ride again. "Just because you told me your friend murdered my parents does not erase the fact that for forty years I thought they'd died in a reckless driving accident."

And it occurs to Steve suddenly, fast and hard enough he feels physically ill: Tony has only ever sought thrills when he was in control of them, piloting the suit or sitting in the driver's seat of his cars. Happy had mentioned only recently being able to drive Tony more than once in a blue moon. He's a very cautious driver, but even then, once when the car lurched after being rear-ended, Tony had thrown out his arms in an effort to protect Peter and Natasha sitting on either side of him.

He can't control the rollercoasters. And he's terrified for everyone else on them, even if he knows it's irrational.

"Is there anything I can do?" Steve asks.

Tony pauses, apparently not having expected that. Finally, he says, "Don't tell the others."

It doesn't really make him feel like he's helping, but Steve nods in agreement anyway. "Let's go get food for the team when Bruce taps out so we don't lose your table," he offers instead, and isn't offended when Tony shrugs halfheartedly in response.

[givesupp]

The Ones Who Live (episode 4 spoilers)

My head feels like it's going to implode in on me and I just need to vomit my thoughts somewhere before it does. I remember hearing about the The Walking Dead (literally everyone and their mother was talking about it). I remember never wanting to watch it because it was SO popular and I've never been a huge fan of watching anything while it was still going live and everyone was into it. I'm weird IDK.

I had just finished up another TV series and was feeling empty, as one usually does and just wanted to dive into a new series. I chose The Walking Dead, finally deciding to give it a chance. I binged the first 4 seasons on Netflix and as I was doing this, it was literally becoming life saving. Only a few short years prior to starting the series I had just started dealing with severe depression. It was crippling. IYKYK. And to make a long story short, falling in love with this show, falling in love with Rick Grimes gave me something to hold on to.

'It's just a show' - this has been said to me many times. But it's not just a show to me. It's a lifeline. Its taking an inspiring moment and grabbing it with the only strength you have left and burning it into your head because if they can do it you can do it. You'll think about it the next time you feel like you can't get out of bed because there just isn't a point. It's taking a character and watching him fight for his sons life while everyone around belittles his character as a father and leader and using that the next time you feel like your chest is about to cave in from the sheer force of anxiety that just hit you like a mack truck. And you think about this character persevering while you sit in the corner of your bathroom floor with a cold rag on your face just simply trying to breathe.

So many examples, so many moments TWD has breathed life back into me when nothing else could.

And then Richonne.

RICHONNE.

Oh my god, what a fucking absolute treasure to emerge from this series. The slowburn of it, the showcasing of patience and friendship, love and trust and overcoming loss and hardships - together.

Finding your person. Camaraderie. True, real love. A soulmate. This? Despite loss, death at the hands of others, death at the hands of your own, tragedy, hopelessness, mental illness, losing your child? I can't even find words to express what Rick and Michonne mean to me separately, but as a couple? I am unable to express in words because it just would not do justice to what they actually represent to me in my own personal life.

Nearly a month ago we were given The Ones Who Live episode 1. And I remember watching that and having to physically remove myself from my home, go outside, sit down on the ground and reflect while sun soaking near a river. That's how blown away I was over the writing, the story, the emotions centered around this character that I have watched and grown to love over years.

Episode 4? EPISODE 4 is a fucking WELLSPRING of emotions, struggle with mental wellness, disagreement, unconditional love, immense hurt, understanding and patience. A relationship struggling to be what it was, if not anything at all. A broken man and a broken woman. A son, who has DIED years ago still finding a way to be the one who brings his parents back together. Who brings strength to his dad even after all this time...

Carl placed in the palm of his fathers hand as a sketch on a broken phone breathing life back into him. This, from his wife. Finding a way to save him. Giving him a sense of purpose, meaning back to him after he declared his own death not that long ago because he could not and does not ever want to live without her.

You cannot tell me that this show isn't important.

That it isn't life saving.

That it isn't at the very least forcing us to reflect and discuss and acknowledge our own lives, our own relationships, our own mental health, our own circumstances, our -

No.

This isn't just a show to me.

Thanks for reading my vomit novel.

[erose-this-name]

Punishment.

Cult of the Lamb Ficlet because I lost control of my life again

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=⁂=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Lamb and their right hand cat, Narinder, walk about the cult grounds discussing plans for new buildings.

Kallamar and Saleos walk by, the former passively rambling outloud about schemes he will never actually go through with to the latter who just nods along, with the same reverence and eagerness a dog might have toward its owner. Kallamar seems to look at Saleos the same way one might be looked at by their housecat. As little good as they're surely up to, neither god of death pays them any mind, as they have proved to be more harmless together than apart.

Lamb chats to Narinder while sketching vague blueprints, “I saw you at your siblings’ house earlier, Nari’.”

Narinder grunts, “... And?”

“Don’t tell me The One Who Waited has forgiven them already?” Lamb teases.

“Of course not! None of my siblings have my forgiveness, nor will they ever. But, that spider is hardly the same person who betrayed me, not anymore. No point punishing the innocent. No point in letting what little remains of their talents go to waste.”

Narinder chooses his words carefully, the Lamb has probably already gleaned from his thoughts that he went to see Shamura, but maybe he could hide his intent behind ambiguity. This is just another facet of the countless indignities and adjustments he has had to go through after losing his Crown.

“Pragmatic!” Lamb smiles, complimenting the cat. Then, why do you think of guilt, Narinder?

Leshy bursts from the ground before Lamb, startling the young god of death. The worm bares his teeth, gesturing with his seeing eye cane, “Horrendous cruel beast! Why does Heket have to tend to both the farms and the gardens!? And is the head chef? EXPLAIN YOURSELF, IMMEDIATELY!”

Narinder rolls his third eye and picks up the blueprint Lamb had been working on, checking the shrine dimensions and blood plumbing for mistakes or minor improvements. It’s a skill that is easy to learn, but takes eons of practice to master.

Lamb looks at the worm with a wide friendly smile, unsure of his angle. His chaotic thoughts do not help. “Because, Leshy… She’s an ex-fertility goddess of harvest. I know it’s a lot of work, and she said she was the god of famine, but she seems to retain some power or knowledge of the opposite, so I think she can handle-”

Leshy throws his arms up, “SO DO I! I AM THE GOD OF NATURE! LOOK AT ME! I’M LITERALLY PART PLANT! Heket’s domain is merely domestic crops. Allow me to tend to the flowers and the trees, and I will grow them better than she ever could. Those camellias will have no choice but to obey me, FOR I AM THEIR GOD.”

Lamb tilts their head inquisitively, reopening the wound hidden under their bell collar, “Huh, so that’s why you look like that. I always thought you were the god of chaos?”

“Chaos is nature! Plants are not meant to be grown in ugly rows, so called ‘weeds’ are not meant to be pulled up, my hedges not meant to be trimmed into cubes. Nature is chaotic, it’s people who inflict their order upon it.” Leshy balls his fist.

“But, weren’t you also technically the god of order?” Lamb raises a brow, discreetly checking to make sure they’re wearing the blood red fleece, today. Or at least the robes they stole from Narinder.

Leshy produces a flower from somewhere, likely thin air, and uses it as a prop, “I am! Order is nature! Have you ever considered a flower? The intricacies and mathematical perfection of their petals, that I painted? The perfectly rehearsed dance of an ecosystem in balance? Nature is ordered, it’s people who inflict their chaos upon it.”

“Uh…” Lamb smiles, incredulously.

“What? That made perfect sense, right Narinder? The vile lamb must also be stupid.” Leshy says, rolling his non-existent eyes and throwing an arm around Narinder’s shoulder.

Narinder shrugs him off, not seeming to give a shit.

Lamb says, “Thank you for your concern, Leshy, but I think our current camellia output is sufficient. We really can’t spare another lumberjack, especially one as talented as you.~”

The green worm glowers at the Lamb, bearing his teeth. He turns and storms off.

Narinder watches his brother walk off. He turns to the Lamb, “Why did you put Heket in charge of sustenance? She is not above poisoning, or worse, you are aware of that.”

Lamb giggles, dropping the façade and rubbing their neck, “Because working with food torments her, now she can’t eat anything. Not if it’s still solid. She’s still much too proud to do a bad job, though. And I’m not worried about her poisons, anymore.”

Narinder says, “Oh. She always was a glutton, I suppose.”

“You think I’m being cruel, Nari’?” Lamb says coquettishly, licking their own blood and ichor from their clawed fingers.

Narinder’s three eyes narrow at the Lamb, “Cease your reading of my mind. And, yes, of course I do. However, I did not say it was a bad thing. She deserves it. I imagine that is also why you have Leshy cutting trees down, instead of growing them? Scary, how much of my vindictiveness has rubbed off on you, once so innocent... and, come to think, this is also probably why I was made your ‘disciple’, wasn't it?”

The Lamb gives him a sharp smile, “Ehehehe! Now, I’m starting to wonder if you can read my mind. A fitting punishment, yea? Always by my side. So close to the object of your desire, yet forever powerless to take it…”

Narinder’s face turns red and he gets a nosebleed. “I HATE YOU, Lamb! You are horrible and evil and vile, I’m leaving now.”

The three-eyed cat runs back into his hut.

Lamb mumbles to themself, obliviously, “Huh? He’s still thinking I’m cruel. He must really want the Red Crown back, I better keep teasing him with it!”

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=⁂=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

As Leshy retreats to a secluded part of the cult grounds with a bottle of ‘very good’ wine he stole, to brood over the Lamb’s refusal, he groans to realize that he’s unfortunate enough for Kallamar to have already been there doing the same thing.

Kallamar smiles and waves, beckoning Leshy to sit beside him. After a few moments of Leshy not reacting, he speaks up, “Hello, Brother! Sit down, sit down! Still living with that mortal cat?”

Leshy sighs as he does so, “Yes. Still living in Heket’s basement?”

“Just because she built a floor above mine doesn’t make it the basement. It’s a ‘cellar’…” Kallamar clarifies.

“Rrrright.” Leshy brings his bottle to his lips.

“You know, it’s funny how you only act like a normal person when you’re drunk. You’re so much more genuine, this way. I much prefer it.”

Leshy spits out his wine, “W-what’s that supposed to mean?! I’M ALWAYS NORMAL!!! … So, anyways, how’s Shamura doing? If you ever need help taking care of-”

Kallamar cuts him off, “Oh, could you? That'd be great. Saleos hardly ever has time to help. Shamura's condition is… well they haven’t been getting any less lucid. They can take care of most things themself, these days. That’s actually what I was about to mention. Narinder came by the house today. Was asking to visit them.”

Leshy’s hand tightens around the bottle’s neck, “What? You didn’t let him, did you?”

“Of course not. Heket would’ve had my head if I did.”

“Huh… Why?”

“No idea, I can never read the guy. Maybe he feels bad? He used to be very close to Shamura, can’t imagine he wanted any of this to happen.” 

“Maybe… But why now? We’ve been living here for close to a decade-”

“Decades, actually. This year it's 28, for me. You've been here a lot longer.” The squid corrects.

Leshy sighs, “... ‘Decadessssss’. You know what I mean. Maybe that horrid little Lamb put him up to it. Seems to enjoy torturing us like that.”

Kallamar shrugs, “Shamura’s been asking about Narinder ever since.”

Leshy raises his tone, “Shamura doesn’t know any better. They don’t even understand what happened to them, half the time. Even when they still had the Purple Crown, they kept giving him ‘gifts’. As if nothing had changed.”

Kallamar swirls the red liquid around in his bottle, “I don’t know. You really don’t think it isn’t time to extend the olive branch? He’s in the same boat as us, now. To be honest, I don’t even blame Narinder. He did what any of us would have done in that situation.”

“That’s… surprising to hear from you, Kallamar.”

“I just wish I didn’t have to get caught up in the crossfire. And, isolating Narinder has only been driving him closer to the Lamb, somehow. They are our real enemy.”

Leshy rolls his nonexistent eyes, “Ah, there it is… I mean, I don’t disagree. I empathize with him. And I miss having him as a brother, before all of this. But, I don’t know if I could ever forgive him, not after all he’s taken from me. My existence is hell, because of him.”

“Isn’t that more because of the Lamb, Brother?”

“What? No. Don’t get me wrong, I despise the Lamb. But, it was Narinder who gouged out my eyes, who sicced that vile beast on me.”

“... so?” Kallamar raises a brow.

“W-what do you mean ‘so’? Look at me! What he did to me.” Leshy gestures to his bandaged face.

“He did the same to all of us, you don’t see me asking for pity.” Kallamar takes a drink.

Leshy laughs in Kallamar’s face.

“PFFHAhAHAHahah! NO! No-no, no, no. No. We are not the same. I will admit, Shamura received a far worse fate than I, though my own suffering outweighs that of everyone besides. Then, after mine, was Heket’s. Then Narinder’s. And only then, last of all, is you. He Who Waited merely tore off part of the outside fins of your ears, you are not even deaf, not completely… And, I don’t despise you for losing nothing, Brother, I detest you because you got off so easy because you were a coward then, and you won’t even admit it because you are a coward now.”

Kallamar shakes his head, “Lost ‘nothing’? I lost my crown, my cult!”

“That’s not what I’m talking about, but yes. You did, though I’m sure you cried and bitched the whole time instead of fighting like a man.  But, it’s not like you were depending on yours just to hear. Or to speak. Or see.” The worm growls.

“You weren’t exactly blind until becoming a mortal. Didn’t you say you could see with the Green Crown’s eye?”

“That… that wasn’t the same! Didn’t you ever try looking through yours!? The Crowns see only truth, that isn’t the same as seeing. Beauty. Is. Not. True. Natural beauty was once all I cared about bringing into the world, it was what gave my existence meaning, what brought me happiness… For centuries, I haven’t been able to remember what flowers look like. I know their fragrance, their feel, their shape, but their color? I am told camellias are red, red like blood. What is ‘red’, Kallamar? The Green Crown did not give me the emotion of red, not the association of blood and passion, not the striking vibrancy, it merely informed me of the wavelength of photons bouncing off chemical bonds in their pigments and the chemistry and evolution of those biomolecules, and I don’t even have that anymore. ‘Dappled sunlight trickling down from the canopy of Darkwood onto a glittering stream between mossy rocks’, these are only words to me. I can no longer imagine it, as I can’t think in images anymore, only in words and concepts… Every time that I feel cool breeze through my leaflets carrying the perfume of camellias, all I can think of is that I will spend eternity never again knowing their beauty. W-whenever my cat gives me one, I…” Leshy’s lip quivers, he shakes his head.

His head drops into his hands, the worm mumbles, “What’s even the point of living anymore? I want… I deserve death. But this vile, horrid, cruel beast won’t even let me die. They know how I feel, their Crown must show them, they know how torturous this existence is for me! And still they stand there, mocking me, with that horrible sadistic smile. Acting like nothing is wrong.”

Kallamar stares at Leshy, his stitched brow furrowing. “How dare you, Brother? How dare you think that you have the right to hate me, when I already hate myself? H-how dare you think so little of yourself as to deserve pity from someone as worthless as me, when you’re still you? Do you have any idea how much I envy you right now, Leshy? Long before all this, even when you were but a wyrmling barely in control of your Crown, I still envied you. Because, you’re right. I am a coward, and a fucking idiot, not even the Blue Crown could fix that about me, because I’m also so fucking stubborn. I never deserved godhood. But it came so naturally to you, you’re so damn confident, and brave, and fucking cool looking! Everyone loved you for it! Your followers were inspired by you, drawn to you! My cult never even respected me, only feared me… Except for Saleos, he’s somehow worse… I should’ve been proud of you, as your elder bloodbrother, but as worthless and horrid as I am, I felt only jealousy… and loathed myself for it… If you think your greatness was taken from you, I never had any to begin with. If you’d even care.”

Leshy stands up, mouth downturned, the moss on his cheeks caked with wet ichor. 

He punches Kallamar in the face.

The squid clutches the burst stitches across his face, “OW! What the hell, Leshy?”

Leshy sneers, “Ooh, you think you deserve pity for knowing you’re pathetic? Don’t you try to out-do my pain! Don’t you think you’re the only one that hates himself. If even you couldn’t tolerate your bullshit, why didn’t you just fucking man up and die!?”

Kallamar reaches for his bottle. Leshy hits him again. The squid falls back, over the log, and flat onto the ground. 

The worm screams, “You think what the Green Crown did to me ‘looks cool?’, I’m a tree! You can pass as a normal squid. I have to tell people I’m an abomination, because I am. I’m a monster that devoured souls and families, and enjoyed it. And you think that was a good thing? You think they loved me for it? I didn’t even know what love was! Did you really think that I would feel better if I knew you only hate yourself because you weren’t consumed by your Crown, like me? Because you were still a person underneath it?! Do you understand how lucky someone like you is to have Saleos? How little you deserve his forgiveness, his love? After everything he sacrificed to you, willingly? And every day, you spit in his face!”

Kallamar curls up into a ball as Leshy kicks him repeatedly, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to, p-please…”

Leshy stops, tears dampening his bandages. “Now… Saleos is going to tend to your wounds, you’ll talk his ears off about this, and he’ll still be on your side… and I’ll go home, and my cat will tell me all about how much he loves that benevolent Lamb for saving him from Darkwood. Fr-... from the s-sacrificial altar... For vanquishing that evil god of chaos…”

Kallamar looks between bloody, shaking fingers, “H-he… still doesn’t know?”

Leshy sits down, wiping ichor from his hands, sniffling. “No. Of course not… I’m a worthless coward.”

The Lamb watches them from the temple window, with a horrible sadistic smile.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=⁂=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

[danthediamondminecart]

Hello!

Another batch of questions freshly baked from the oven!

1. Will you make an RBB fanfic about the hosts past?

2. Can you tell me about some RBB fanfics during 2021-2022? I joined around 2023 and started writing RBB fanfics at 2023 so I never get to discover what RBB fanfics exsist back then

3. Has any of the battlers/contestants tried using the host's swords before?

4. How big is RBB headquarters?

5. What happens to all the battlers after every season of RBB?

6. What's your opinion on Corl and will he be appearing on any RBB fanfic you make soon?

7. What was the most stupidest/ hilarious things that both hosts and RBB contestants did?

8. Do all the RBB Battlers have messed up sleep schedules?

9. Who is most likely to cook/bake for every battler?

10. In your RBB Superheroes AU, is there a way a Superhero to lose their powers temporarily or permanently?

That's all, I hope I added the right amount of ingredients!

I’m running on a painkiller a migraine and general tiredness, let’s see if I can answer these questions coherently!

Q1) Perhaps! I have some cool ideas for how it would play out, and it’s definitely something I’d like to dabble into - I’d just have to smoothen up the timeline first. And *maybe* get further with BLSMP too.

Q2) I will not, for one main reasons. Firstly, much of the 2021-2022 fandom is lost media - it was either in messages, DMs, and many infamous stories of the era have been deleted or discontinued. This is because their authors got deleted, banned, left/run out of the fandom, or all three if they were bold enough! You ever heard of the Dessert AU? Do you remember Rivals to Lovers? They’re all gone now! I can’t in good faith recommend any of the still existing ones because most of them will never update again. There are still some of us who are still here, but you’ll likely consider us part of the ‘2023 fandom’, so yeah. (Also, I say infamous for a reason)

Q3) There exists ‘decoy’ swords that have lesser versions of the powers the hosts have, which anyone can use. See: the swords we, the Battler, have access to. But the host’s actual swords simply won’t work (power wise, they’re still…swords) for anyone else.

Q4) Same size as the lobby, because…it is the lobby. I would like to think they have an ‘underground’ section we can’t see, though.

Q5) They go back home and do whatever they’re used to. A lot of them still meet up in the RBB studio and hang out there regularly, because it’s a nice way to see their friends without getting swarmed and it’s generally a nice place. So they have things like a cafeteria, a training grounds, etc.

Q6) Couldn’t care less about him, and a resounding no. I was not a Pals fan, I have never *been* a Pals fan, I have no attachment to or dislike of CorlHorl whatsoever. Honestly, aside from Denis and Sketch, I have no idea who was even *in* the Pals. So, yeah, absolutely not, as I have no interest in writing him.

Q7) Not all the contestants, and none of the Hosts show up, but go read The Roomba Incident and get back to me.

Q8) Nope. Some of them, like Tanqr and Hyper, actually care about their beauty sleep, and others, like Think, just have a regular sleep schedule. Really, a majority of them have a normal sleep schedule, unless A) their species demands they don’t (eg Peetah) or B) their personality means that they tend to avoid sleep and other ‘unnecessary activities’ for the sake of their work (eg Kreek)

Q9) Think and BigB, and I don’t need to explain this one. I’d like to think that the cafeteria in the RBB Studio is staffed by a mix of human chefs and robot chefs though. Please imagine the slot bots giving you ur food

Q10) Nope. Their powers can be nullified if someone has that ability - the only person to do so, however, is NightFoxx.

I hope these answers made sense, and sorry if they’re not as detailed as usual, as I said, I’m running on a painkiller and prayers right now, lol

[deelavis]

Omgggggg im so excitded to hear your thoughts Mello 4 or 3 Near 9 or 13 or whichever you prefer i also just like to hear you talk🥺

I know these are supposed to be silly and quick I just have too many thoughts and I wanted to do all of them instead of one or the other *__*

3. Mello-Drinking Headcanon

I think Mello doesn't drink much on his own. Like he's not the type to just drink at home by himself (unless he's REALLY going through something) but when he's out on the town he will. And because of it I actually think he would be a total lightweight. And he just starts rambling like CRAZY when he's drunk. The guys in his gang never mention it the next morning because they're too scared to lose a finger, but Mello seems to have a lot of things he really hates??? Like SUPER specific seemingly unrelated things that he will just go on and on about. Like when their waiter had bleached silver-white hair he went on a 30 minute tirade about how people with white hair just think they're so special and pretty and they how they need to be put in their place. Or when the bar they go to has giant jenga and he loses so badly he goes on a tare about how anyone that is good at board games and puzzles are actually just big dumb idiots.

4. Mello-Angry headcanon

This one stumped me a bit because I feel like we see Mello angry so often in canon that it's hard to think of a headcanon for it. But the more I thought about it I realized that it's a big headcanon of mine that Mello fixates about things he gets angry about. Like even if he feels less angry after the fact he cannot stop thinking about it, even if it's to think about how stupid he was about getting angry in the first place. This will only take place in his head though, he will absolutely not be telling anyone that he is thinking he could ever be wrong.

9.Near-Childhood headcanon

I think when Near came to Wammy's he was VERY little. I don't have much of a headcanon about his birth family since I also think he has almost no memory of them, just flashes here and there that are more sense memories. Though I do headcanon him as half Korean and half Dutch (doesn't work super well with the entomology of the surname River, but fuck it we ball). When he's brought to Wammy's I usually think he's about 4-5 and non-verbal. He shows a lot of signs of heightened intelligence which is what lands him in Wammy's instead of a regular orphanage, but I think before they can figure out how to work with him, Near ends up having a lot of melt downs. With the way the orphanage handles things the other kids don't really see it but Near has a lot of screaming, crying fits before they find a reliable way for him to communicate.

13.Near-Sex headcanon

Idk if this will be a controversial headcanon but I think once Near has had sex a few times and becomes more comfortable with it after "solving the puzzle" of something new, he is absolutely insatiable and is the one initiates the most often. I really only see him with Mello so I always think that in a world where something happens between them and he gets to this point, the moment people leave the room and they're alone he gives Mello this look-

(Please excuse the quick crappy sketch) and pounces on him. With just no regard to how soon people will be back. Truly he is a horny monster.

[captain-mj]

angels of digitalism part two please very very pretty please

Done!! Part 1 is right here

Soap pulled into the parking lot the next morning just in time to see Ghost fly by and park. Without Roach. He noticed a car he didn’t recognize and assumed they must’ve came separately today. 

“Hey Ghost!” Soap beamed at him as Ghost slipped off his helmet. He just had a neck gaiter on so Soap could see his fluffy blond hair. It was clearly bleached, having the unnatural platinum that came from doing so, 

“Johnny.” Ghost tilted his head at him and Soap almost tripped over air.

“Don’t remember telling you that name.”

“It was on your resume. Would you prefer I stick to Soap?” He looked at him, tilting his head. Ghost had the most puppy dog brown eyes that Soap had ever seen. It didn’t help that his hair fell in his face and that he could only be described as pretty. 

“No. It’s fine. Only you can call me that though, alright?”

Ghost’s eyes crinkled like he was smiling. “I’m glad I’m your favorite.” He started walking and Soap felt flustered as he started to walk after him. 

Soap looked up at him, hands going behind his back. “You uh… have any plans today?”

“Mostly rigging checks. I put the wires and harnesses up myself so I’m going to make sure they’re all solid.”

Soap frowned. “Don’t the venue owners handle that?”

“Don’t trust them. A lot of them don’t follow the same standard. Not putting Rudy and Roach at stake because of that.” 

“Also you. You’re also doing the fancy tricks this time right?”

Ghost shrugged. “Not the same. I fall, I recover. They fall and they… crack. I threw Rodolfo onto a bed once and it sounded like pop rocks.“ He sighed. Soap had to pause and really think about that. 

Did he have it wrong? Was Ghost dating Rodolfo and Alejandro was dating Roach? Where did that leave Alex? Was Alex dating anyone? 

Maybe if he was single… He was a strapping young man. 

Soap laughed and decided to change the subject. “You hurt your wrist so bad you can’t play guitar.”

Ghost was silent for a minute and Soap was wondered he offended him before laughed. “Fair enough. I did…” He rubbed his bandaged wrist. 

“How did you hurt yourself anyway?”

“Scraped it up on my bike. Someone pulled out in front of me too fast and I skidded across the road. More embarrassing than anything honestly.” 

Soap frowned. “You were in a fucking accident?? And that’s all that happened?”

“No. I’m just lying to you.”

“Oh.”

“Also, don’t trust any story Alex gives you about losing his leg. 50/50 chance he’s lying to you.” Ghost patted his shoulder and held the door open for him. 

Soap nodded and just got to work. He perched on the edge of the couch since Rodolfo was lounging on it, headphones in. Occasionally, he’d speak in spanish so Soap assumed he was on a call. Made sense, he was the manager. 

Soap started to draw again and tried out different methods and styles to see what might look best. 

Rodolfo sat up after a while and used the couch properly. He kicked his legs out and took his headphones off after saying goodbye in English. 

Soap hummed. “Who was that?”

“Alejandro Vargas. He’ll be dropping by later. You can ask for an autograph if you want but no pictures.” Rodolfo started to work on his tablet.

Soap shrugged. “Might get one for a friend of mine but I don’t actually like his music that much.”

“Me either but he’s a friend of everyone here.” 

Soap nodded and showed him what he had so far. 

“I like it. This it?”

“No. This is a rudimentary sketch.” Soap frowned, wondering if they seriously considered that worth the amount of money they were paying him and decided not to ask, lest his feelings get hurt. They didn’t really seem to get how art like this worked.

Rodolfo nodded and handed him roughly 40 bucks. “Coffee again. Need me to text it?”

“Nah, I still have the texts from yesterday.” Soap took the money and did a two finger salute. He once again got all of their drinks and handed them out. When he got to Ghost, he paused. “Uh, where is Roach?” He was trying not to look at Ghost who was hanging upside and shirtless. After working up there for the past hour, he must’ve gotten hot but that logical explanation did not erase that Ghost was fit and scarred and so damn attractive Soap was worried he’d get hard right then and there. 

Ghost glanced around. “He might be working with Alex. I think they were doing something with his outfit for the vocaloid.” He twisted himself in the ropes so he sat upright and took his drink. The position spread his legs and put a little strain on his arms, making them tense. Soap’s knees started feeling a little weak. 

Ghost drank some more and tilted his head. “You okay? You look really flushed?”

“I’m fine.” Soap smiled, noticing the tattoos circling Ghost’s arm. They were clearly covering some scarring. It looked rough, a bit like a dog or something had attacked him. “I’ll go find Roach.” He stepped away and went in the direction that Ghost pointed out to him. 

Soap watched Alex grab Roach’s hips and move him. Roach’s back arched a little and the image on screen just didn’t move. Alex sighed and put his head on Roach’s, almost pouting. 

Were they dating?? 

Alex glanced over, hand going around Roach’s waist. Roach leaned into him and they both either didn’t realize the position or simply didn’t care. Soap wasn’t sure how to handle that considering just yesterday Roach and Ghost had been tangled together. He stared for another minute before Alex snapped his fingers. “Hey, Soap, you alright?”

“Yeah. I’m good.” 

“Cool.” They took their drinks and got back to debugging the vocaloid. Roach would do certain moves and the vocaloid would just stop and freeze until it would snap into whatever position Roach was in. Alex was quickly getting annoyed and it was obvious. They went back and forth on it with them either moving around or standing still. 

Alex groaned. “Soap. Wear the costume.”

“What?”

“Wear the costume.” 

Roach started to strip and Soap stared blankly. “Why do I need to do this??” When he was down to his underwear, he handed them to Soap. 

“I need Roach to help me at the computer so someone has to wear the suit.” 

Soap slowly took of his own clothes and quickly put on the outfit. Roach was a little slimmer than him so it was tight over his shoulders and ass. It was just leggins and a long sleeve shirt with wires so it wasn’t the most revealing, it was just tight. He listened to Alex’s explanations and watched Roach sign back at him. Roach had no shame in continuing to stand there in his underwear. It was hard for Soap not to look at him. They were musicians and performers, it made sense they were attractive, had to be honestly, but it was ridiculous just how hot Roach was. Slim figure, the exact opposite of Ghost, nice thighs and an even nicer ass. And the entire time, he’d bend over the laptop, back arching slightly. 

Was everyone here trying to kill him? What next? Alex taking his shirt off and pouring water over his head? Rodolfo speaking to him in spanish?? 

Was this flirting? Or were they just oblivious? They couldn’t be, right?

After a bit, the vocaloid followed the movements like they were supposed and Roach beamed at Soap. He reached up and lightly bonked their heads together before helping Soap out of the clothing. It felt more like he peeled the shirt off and it made him really flustered. Roach’s hands were very cold and they brushed against his back before he politely handed Soap’s shirt to him. He was clearly smiling and that made Soap even more flustered when he pulled it on. Soap nodded at him and fled, running back to his couch and his laptop. 

Except… Alejandro was sitting there. He was playing what looked like a knock off of candy crush and completely ignored Soap as he walked past him. 

“Hi.” 

Alejandro nodded at him. He sipped his drink and Soap picked up the tablet to get to work. The silence was… actually kinda nice. Soap wasn’t usually one that could handle sitting there without talking, but he was deep in his art and Alejandro was deep in typing whatever it was he was typing. 

Ghost reappeared and Alejandro wolf whistled at him. “What are you doing walking around like that?”

Ghost glared at him. “Fuck off you slag.” 

“Not my fault you’re a fine piece of ass.” Alejandro grinned and Ghost rolled his eyes and pulled his shirt back on. His back muscles flexed as he did. 

“You’re so annoying. Why are you here?”

“Tour just ended so I’m hanging out with you guys. Obviously. Why? Don’t love me anymore?”

Ghost shook his head and sat between them. Three big men on a couch was a bit of a hard fit, but Soap wasn’t going to complain. 

Soap showed Ghost who leaned into him to watch him draw. The silence was slightly less comfortable so he started explaining what techniques he was using. Ghost didn’t really seem to get it, but he listened nonetheless. 

Soap was coming to terms with the fact they were all a lot less cool than he was expecting, but it was nice. Maybe they could be friends when this was over.

[another-clive-blog]

au where clive runs for prime minister just to try one-upping b*ll h*wks

Anon, I want you to know this may be my favorite ask so far. The AU itself is amazing, but the censoring Bill Hawks' name ? Priceless. I feel like Socrates himself has come to enlighten me with incomparable wiseness-

Alright so sketches and writing under the cut ! =) No trigger warnings for this one. I had fun, I'd love to do more about this AU whenever I get the time !!

When you didn't think things through 😔 Which leads us to the fanfic-

"Professor, look !!"

Hershel Layton put down his cup of tea, anticipating the moment his apprentice would shove his newspaper in his face. With a patient smile, he took the paper in his hands and let Luke point out what piece of news had caused such excitement.

"'Clive Dove as the new prime minister' ?" Layton read out loud.

The article was front page and there was more about it in the following pages : it only made sense, with the agitation this news had caused. Bill Hawks had been prime minister before, and was the favorite candidate for this next mandate : him losing was quite surprising- quite surprising indeed.

"He doesn't look too happy," Luke said, tiptoeing to see over the professor's arm.

Layton looked at the picture in the middle of the page. On it, a shockingly young man was visibly upset, turned away from the journalists : he seemed to be yelling at someone on the side, cut off from the photo. "That is one way to put it." Layton hummed, his eyes staring at the young man a moment longer, before going to read the actual article.

"I'd be happy, I think, if I had just won the elections," Luke mused out loud. He couldn't even imagine it happening, actually : running for Prime Minister was so much work on its own !! Always giving speeches, moving around, discussing boring things- oh, and it must cost so much money too !! It must be so difficult just being a candidate.

Yeah, he'd probably be happy if he won after all that. This Dove guy was just weird.

"Say, Professor, don't you think he looks like me ? Maybe this is a sign I'll be Prime Minister some day !"

The professor didn't answer, focused solely on the paper in his hands.

-_-_-_-

"I am not doing it," Clive Dove said firmly. "I am not running this country. I quit."

John, his new personal assistant, a guy here just to listen to his every word and give him the attention Bill Hawks was desperate to get, protested loudly. "No offence Sir, but you have been prime minister for 47 minutes. The people want you as head of the country and you therefore deserve this post, especially after all the hard work and money you invested to get it."

"I don't care about the money or the people," Clive snapped. "I don't actually want this stupid job."

John was quiet for a moment, and Clive hated how unsurprised he looked. He didn't even seem disappointed or concerned, simply... irritated. It made sense for a government official : they only ever cared about things going smoothly, not making any disruptions, following the protocol.

Too bad, because Clive only cared about making their lives as difficult as they had made his.

"Well," John finally sighed, "you can always resign if you really wish to."

"Great." The faster he got out of this agonizing office, the better it would be. Clive took his coat in one hand, pushing the chair back with the other. He had no time to waste, because he was supposed to give his first speech as the new Prime Minister in about fifteen minutes.

He therefore only had fifteen minutes to leave this pathetic building and get as far away from this despicable life as possible.

Clive had his hand on the door handle when John spoke up again. "If you go through with your resignation, you'll need to sign the official declaration first."

Clive let out an exasperated sigh. Why were there declarations for everything ? Would he need a declaration to slam the door on his way out ?! "I'm leaving, what more is there to say ?!"

John was still facing the office, rearranging the files Clive had left behind : he seemed oddly calm for someone who'd have to announce both the nomination and resignation of the new prime minister. "Plenty, actually. But the more important part, the one we should focus on, is naming your successor."

Clive scoffed. "Why do I have a say in this ?"

"You don't," John simply answered. "But you'll have to confirm your official resignation, therefore leaving this post to the next best candidate. I believe Bill Hawks was the people's second choice."

Clive froze. That scum would actually get the job ? After everything he had done to keep him from it ?

Clive didn't want to rule the country- he had only run for the job to keep Bill Hawks from getting it. And he had succeeded ! But quitting now would give Hawks both the job and the pride to come out on top.

He couldn't do that. He didn't want to run the country, wasn't fit for it. He had no idea how to do it and he didn't want to learn. He hated this government, never cared about its people.

John was still rearranging the papers on the office, a peaceful smile on his face. He knew he had won, because winning was all that these miserable people cared about.

Well, Clive wouldn't let any of them win- not as long as he was head of this country. "Come on," he said, putting his coat on. "I have a speech to give."

[jifanjiang0710]

Alblutio - Yan Albedo x reader

A/N: Happy Lantern Festival!

Tw for talks of death.

Entry 1. Weather: Clear Albedo gave me a journal log, to record the nuances of everyday life. I am to pen down in words my emotions and thoughts throughout the day. I am told that expressing complicated feelings onto paper will help process them. Right now, I feel hesitant. I am unaccustomed in having such a responsibility. Albedo says that this is a trivial matter, so I will not ponder on it.

Entry 7.  Weather: Clear Albedo encouraged me to write more sentences, and showed me a book. It was astounding to see how many words had been written in it. This particular type of writing is called a ‘novel’, unlike lab reports or observation logs. I asked if I could read it, but was refused. I will refrain from bringing it up in the future, but he did say that I enjoy reading. I must remember that. I enjoy reading.

Entry 9.  Weather: Heavy snow Right now, I feel cold. The wind is blowing. I cannot feel pain from it, but it is uncomfortable. I don’t think I like wind and cold, but Albedo says I do, so I like the wind and cold. Tomorrow there will be another person visiting, and I will meet that person. I am apprehensive.

Entry 10.  Weather: Snowy I accidentally referred to myself in third person in front of the visitor. They had golden hair that shone unlike anything I’d seen before. I made a grave mistake, and the visitor looked shocked. I did something wrong, so that warranted the punishment of cold. Standing out there in the snow, I thought of animals who are caught in the cold for extended periods of time. Slowly, they do not move. They fall and never get back up again. I asked Albedo is that would ever happen to me. Immediately I sensed my transgression, for he was angry and hurt. No, he said. No, I would not, because Albedo cares for me very much and would never let that happen, ever. Right now, I feel sorry for disobeying Albedo, and making him disappointed.

Entry 39.  Weather: Snowy My name is [Name]. My favourite food is sticky honey roast. I like to read, and I like to smile. My favourite person is Albedo. I must memorise them well, lest I forget and get them wrong again. My name is [Name]. My favourite food is…

Entry 70.  Weather: Sunny Today is warm and comfortable. It is my day of birth. Albedo took me out for a walk. It was beautiful, the way the snow-covered paths look in the glow of sunset. I voiced this out loud, to which he nodded in approval. I like scenery. He held out a flower, but seemed slightly aggravated by my lacklustre reaction. You like flowers, he said. But I much prefer the little animals that hop and scamper in the snow. You like this flower, he insists, and sighs. Okay, I said. I like this flower. Sometimes I wonder if I really do.

* The weather is perfect today, a convenient coincidence.

“Good morning, [Name],” he says, alone.

“Morning, Albedo!” The alchemist spares you a glance. To see you this early in the morning is surely a blessing. “Hello, [Name].” He’s almost done.

“I hereby proclaim this unique occasion a nationwide public holiday, so you should get off work for once,’ you pester. Anything to pull this man away from work.

“Is that so? What prompts this ‘unique occasion’?” Just a little more detail. He can’t seem to get your eyes right.

“Hey…” your voice trails off. “You didn’t forget my birthday, did you?” Your shoulders droop a fraction, and Albedo hastily offers his reassurance.

“Of course not. I have cleared my schedule for the day, should you wish to spend it with me.” He blinks. Tentatively, he speaks up again. “You do want to celebrate with me, right?” Careful. He wouldn’t want to lose composure in front of you.

“That’s a given. In honour of that, here you go.” You shove a bouquet of your favourite flowers into his arms. “What’s my gift?” you say, leaning over his shoulder to peek at the sketch in his hand. “Is that me? Can I look?”

“No. It has yet to be completed. I’ll give it to you once it’s done.”

How pathetic. In the end he never did finish that drawing. It was left in the drawer that hadn’t been opened for years. He is afraid to look at it again.

Everything had been kept the way you left it. Sometimes he leaves your shoes by the door, if only to give himself the impression that you’d only gone out temporarily, and that you’d arrived safely home.

His own lab is dark, the ashes have long gone cold. Today is your birthday. Happy birthday, [Name]. He clutches his chest with trembling fingers. Sometime he wished Rhinnedottir had never given him a heart, then this emptiness wouldn’t weigh on him like heavy fog. Why? Was it fate? Did everything have to culminate into it? Why did it have to leave such an impact behind? Wouldn’t it be so much easier if-

“Albedo?”

If he closes his eyes long enough, maybe he’ll wake up and see you. If he tries and believes hard enough, it will become real.

“Albedo.”

Don’t listen, don’t listen, Albedo. You’ll wake up from this nightmare soon. Wake up, Albedo.

“Albedo!”

He opens his eyes to the same blank walls of his Dragonspine laboratory. His throat is dry. “Yes, [Name]?”

“You were not moving. Are you alright?”

“I am.” He’s so tired. “Is there anything you require?”

“Ah…yesterday you said that we could go outside for a walk? Since it’s my birthday today…”

“Alright, we’ll make preparations now.” He has long since learnt to fake a smile.

*

Entry 83.  Weather: Heavy snow The golden-haired visitor came again, discreetly. Right now, I am conflicted, and guilty for having kept this from Albedo. Am I a  bad person for doing so? The Traveler says no. The Traveler asked for my name, among many other things. They asked me a lot in that brief period of time. They left with one final word of advice.

Do not trust Albedo.

How could I do that? Albedo is  I don’t think that  I am at a loss at how to word it. It’s impossible. Albedo would never do anything to hurt me. Since as far back as I can remember, he has been there. He is like family. If I were to doubt him, then who else would there be to trust?

Entry 85.  Weather: Heavy snow I can’t help but think there is something off about him. No, there must be something off with me. And I think he knows. It might be attributed to an overactive imagination, but his stares linger, and behind my back it is as if his gaze burns. While he was out, I entered his laboratory, and I stared at the cupboard he keeps locked. Do not trust Albedo, they say. And, as if possessed by some unimaginable will to do something, anything to quell the disturbance in my mind, I took the key and unlocked it. It was right there, hanging like some fruit I ought not taste.

I’m sorry, Albedo. My actions today were unforgiveable, but I will not tell him. It is not a cupboard; it is a door. To where? The answer lies in whether I will have the courage to open it. There is one more thing. Did Albedo, with his impeccable intuition, anticipate that I would do this? And if so, could he have intentionally let me discover this secret on my own? The thought is blasphemous, and I highly doubt it. I must be dreaming. I can only hope that I will not be tempted by curiosity.

Entry 90. Do not trust Albedo. Do not trust Albedo. Do not trust Albedo. I will repeat it as many times as I can until I remember. I must first calm myself and articulate my feelings, though my hands shake uncontrollably. Right now, I feel betrayed, horrified and above all, I am scared. I will not speak of today’s events at all after this.

I am almost sure that he intended for me to see what I did today. He intended for it, but there is no guarantee he knows that I went today in particular. I can only bank on this chance, and that my attempts at feigning ignorance will work, if only temporarily. Through the cupboard-door, down the corridor, and into the lab I had never seen before, I saw myself. I saw myself encased in ice, a final resting place. The ‘me’ in the ice coffin shared the exact same facial features and physique, except the sear on my forearm, which ‘I’ lacked. ‘I’ was not moving. Like those helpless animals stuck out in the cold, ‘I’ would never get up again. And on the shelves lining the walls, boxes and jars were stacked as high as the ceiling, and I daresay I can guess their contents.

I knew immediately that this version of me is not the first. I am one of many. He has been treating my predecessors and I like experiments, and one day, my time will be up.

I leave this place tomorrow, at the first stroke of dawn. Whatever he wishes to achieve, I hope it never comes to fruition.

* Number 079 has been down here.

It was careful not to leave the more prominent traces behind, but Albedo knows. In its haste it overlooked crucial details. He should have come to expect this. The ones in the 60s and 70s pried too much for their own good. A deep sigh escapes him, like a man who has not known peace for a great many years. He caresses your face preserved by cold, admiring the eyelashes that once fluttered and the lips that once curved into a smile. You are beautiful, even like this. Even if your immobile heart and still pulse commands that Albedo will never feel the warmth of your touch.

“It doesn’t scare me anymore.”

“No. You can’t say this. You never told me anything.”

“Albedo-“ he refuses to look at you, yet his grip on your hand is firm. “I couldn’t bring myself to. This wasn’t something I could’ve said easily, but I’m finally coming to terms with it. I am no longer frightened of what comes next.”

“Please,” you want to cry, because you have never heard so much raw emotion in his voice, “don’t leave me.”

And you are at a loss for words, because how does one respond to that? “I’m sorry,” is all you can do.

“You can’t go,” is what he says. ‘I will not let you go,’ is what he means. And until Celestia falls, he will make sure you stay.

Another failed experiment. The rack of test tubes is sent crashing onto the cold floor. Number 079 is not you, and it will never be you. Then, like all the other guinea pigs, there is only one thing left to do with it. He walks out with a final glance at your body, so peaceful that you could be sleeping, and reaffirms with a one-sided promise.

“Good night, [Name]. See you soon.”

*

Entry 1.  Weather: Sunny. Albedo said I needed a medium through which I can channel my thoughts and feelings. If I ever felt overwhelmed, I can pen it down in here. Alright, then. Behold, the very first entry log from [Name] 080’s journal!