#you need food for thought or else your brain will waste away.

[sciderman]

Hello!! I’m kinda late with it, but I just wanna tell you that my bestie and I are sending you the goodest vibes! ❤️❤️❤️ Cause you see, we went to see the movie on the day of the premiere and we have been shitting on it more and more mercilessly ever since, both of ours anger and grief increasing upon realizing more and more clearly just how utterly SHITE this excuse for a movie was.

And so we were both surprised at finding out just how MANY people on the internet were actually enamoured with it, and praising it like a masterpiece. It felt like being stuck in some fucking simulation, so I was like hold up, there’s this awesome person whose opinions I respect, let’s check there! (Cause my bestie is more of a casual fan, not really on the scene in Deadpool fandom.) So yeah, we went to your blog and were both delighted at your insight, reading all you’ve said about it and laughing in my bed. And as much as it still sucks to have experienced all of that, and that this crap will stay on DP’s record, it was really comforting to see someone so well-spoken feeling the same way and expressing it with eloquence, very satisfying to read. Honest to god, I felt some kind of relief upon being reassured that I’m not just a hater, it was actually ✨That Bad✨

 So thank you!! And stay strong!!

oh trust, I feel entirely similar but - I don’t feel surprised about it because it’s kind of marvel tradition at this point for a film to be nearly entirely incoherent but still a crowd pleaser - I thought we’d grown past this and that people were finally getting wise after all the lukewarm responses to recent mcu entries but I guess deadpool is just the silver bullet that can blindside anybody - I think there’s kind of an expectation attached to deadpool in that it’s Not Going To Be Good. but at least it’s going to be fun. but - you know - shrugs - I’m kind of tired about how OFTEN I’m asked by pieces of media these days to just… switch my brain off? like um? sorry if I want to use my brain? thats what its here for? I have this fucking organ in between my ears that wants to be challenged and enriched and there just isn’t enough in this world that is doing that for me. and I know I’m not going to find that in a marvel movie. but it’s just such a bummer how often people tell me to just switch off my brain and how much I want to fucking !! use my brain though !! just give me some fucking brain food or I might freaking vegetate. I’m gonna go brain dead, lads. I’m gonna go brain dead !! I can’t keep switching off my brain. she’s here to work. she wants to work !!!

[gotham-daydreams]

Honestly, in a situation like not [] where they aren't willing to physically hurt the reader but psychologically mess with them? It's fucked but at the same time I have too good of an imagination. When it comes to neglect there's so many aspects of it that could happen and even if I'm pissed I could keep my mouth shut to the point I feel numb.

I mean they can't change you or break you if you just stay in your own head after all? Lil stories in your head to keep you busy, unholy amount of hours spent sleeping. I don't care if I waste away if it means not having to deal with people who won't even listen or admit that it's gonna take time to undo trauma and won't take the proper steps to undo it.

They take things up a notch and limit food or start doing things that prevent you from sleeping? Do it, at least the hat man will be a better friend. Can't break what's not there, the batfam always has this mindset that so long as they get their way that they would do what's necessary but that's entirely because they are all too selfish to actually really respect how you feel. And no amount of bugging me or yelling at me or trying to get a rise out of me will change the fact I can just slip into my mind and ignore it all.

The only way I'd ever stop being in my head and not even wasting time on them is if they actually tried to be genuine in fixing things and admit they fucked up and are doing it out of guilt. Either put down your pride or stay with a reader who will gladly stay tucked away in the crevice of their brain in an imaginary field of flowers with whatever lil character they make to enjoy the time in their head <3

Anyways I love your series and can't wait for more!! Please take care and hydrate!!!

I do agree! Especially in this scenario where they’re way more unwilling to physically hurt the reader, because... well, they want to hear your music! Like a little songbird, just tucked away from the public eye, just for them to hear you sing...

It'll definitely get on their nerves, and some will probably crumble under the pressure - but those that don't aren't actually the ones you should be worried about. I mean, of course they'll try to do everything else they can, and at that point - its a contest of willpower and to see who can outlast the other (and spoiler, most of them will definitely lose), but some are definitely more stubborn than others. After all, their 'love' is spawned out of guilt, obligation, and a messy mix of things that's turned into this ugly beast of a thing they see as love - if you aren't willing to take it, then that's fine, but you definitely aren't getting anything until you do.

Though, again, at some point the time and treatment definitely begins to effect them too. And that’s... not good, especially when some of them are known for their resolve, will, and general ability to withstand so much crap despite not even being superhuman (even if in all honesty, compared to the average guy, they may as well be). Them being insane does not help with that fact.

They'll begin to consider things they wouldn't have even thought of before out of sheer desperation and need. They'll think about it, plan it out a little, and before they even know it - they're losing hours of sleep trying to find ways to actually execute it. Hell - some may even act impulsively, and just flat out do it without giving it a second thought. Because they can't. They can't think. They can't sleep. Not without you - not after another month, another week, another day, another hour, another second without you.

They need it. Need you. Need your warmth, your presence - to feel like they're doing something right, even when its so wrong. Even if they've left you damaged beyond repair, some still want to feel like they can fix you, put you back together... and what better way to feed that delusion then to hold you in their arms? To do all of these things with you... even if you're not mentally there?

At that point, they'd sacrifice never being able to hear your music from you to get that. To have that fabricated connection. They'd give up that one thing that's been keeping them from harming you physically, and go all out.

[Which... descriptions of losing limbs, and general gore under the cut, it's not pretty but not super detailed either? Yes, it's towards the reader. Yes the reader is awake. There is no cut away, but some dancing around using some phrases repeatedly. Consider yourself warned and advised. Even if it's just descriptions - the family isn't playing nice.]

Maybe they'd start small... just a leg, maybe two, not even a foot- your legs from the knee down are going indefinitely. Maybe even the whole thing if certain people do it impulsively, and aren't thinking - aside from the fact that they need you close, but they just have to get these things out of the way. To lessen your struggle, to reassure themselves you won't run, of course - after all, you can't run if they just... take away that option, right? It's for the best, they'd tell themselves, they need to do this. They have to. You gave them no other choice- and now... now they had to make a tough choice. They have to do this.

If it's done impulsively, it's messy. I guess not having a lot of experience cutting off limbs or disabling someone isn't going to make things easier, who knew, am I right? Taking lives (for some of them), and beating people up is one thing, but cutting off arms and legs? It's weird to think about until you're the one doing it, and in a frenzy no less.

Some of the more impulsive ones you really have to look out for, because if they do it then it is painful, and that is no exaggeration. As much as they're thinking about you, they also aren't at the same time - at least not you in the present as they're doing the removal. You'll pass out from pain, or just the visceral sight right before you witness your leg getting torn off. Real messy stuff. It's not subtle at all, they barely hide it - if they even try to allow you that luxury. If anything, you see too much of it. Either way, you're out like a light, and left with whatever you saw as nothing is left to the imagination. Unless your fucked up mind makes it worse, to which- a lot is left to the imagination as that nightmare of a scene is messed with and mixed in your head like a toddler left in the kitchen.

Of course, the family will take care of the messy outcome, and get you to another room and everything (after all, they have one too many spar ones), but, well, that won't change the reality of the situation, will it? Hell, get one of the more rough ones pissed off or just do something one of the more impulsive ones doesn't like, and you'll lose your arms, and depends on who does it - you'll lose them just as you lost your legs, and you'll get to watch... before you pass out, of course.

Maybe they'll get you things to help, like robotic limbs and such, though its not that great and doesn't make things easier. Not even a little. They'll be able to control everything you do, essentially, down to what you can even touch or interact with.

You'll feel more trapped then you ever have before, as even your body, every limb attached to your torso is theirs. Theirs to control. To mess with, and just like before, they'll take it away if you do something that makes them upset.

They'll leave you more than just defenseless.

[marchsfreakshow]

A Little Piece Of Heaven [James Patrick March]

Angst / smut implications/ fluff all wrapped up in a confusing bow.

You were just a victim all those years ago, now a rotting ghost stuck in a boarded up hallway. Wasting your ghostly days away, until the wall, suddenly gets knocked down.

Absolutely NOT inspired by an a7x song /sarc. I was listening to it and just thought of something I could write with it. :)

Warnings: small reference to necro (it's in the song too don't worry) misgendering Liz a few times I'm sorry. James touching your wounds. Fem!reader.

No one's perspective

⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷

How long had it been since you saw day?

Since you saw a nick of sleep?

The faint burst of hunger in your stomach explode?

It was all unwelcome. The last you remember? Sleeping. Peacefully in your hotel bed. It was, a bit scratchy, but any sleep was sleep. The early dawn reaching you, just for your breath to hitch. Eyes widened as a gentlemanly figure stood tall over your tired body. Who was this person? Wasn't your hotel room locked? Nerves as your heart raced, locking eyes with your perpetrator. "If I hadn't sworn my heart to my darling Elizabeth, why, I would've courted you instead." The man sighed happily, a silky, transcendental voice. Confusion ran over your furrowed eyebrows. A dry throat as an answer was being racked in your brain. But his voice, my that could've sung you to sleep again if you weren't careful.

Being in your nightgown for so long...it was cold. Everything, all the time was cold. Why on earth? But, somehow always in the presence of...Ruldoph Valentino, and Natacha Rombav. It was always intimidating. The way they stared at your stature, and how you held your arms over your chest always; it was hunger. They've tried. They had tried for the past.... something years. Always tried to take a bite, and have some food, but nothing appeared. It infuriating to the pair. Stuck in here with you, since...since...whenever! Time didn't have a meaning anymore. The three of you begged, squealed, screamed and wailed in front of the uninviting wall. Just needing someone to bring you out of it. It was only as the angry years rolled by you realised you were probably dead. A ghost silently and angrily roaming. Such a soul, unable to leave a place like The Hotel Cortez. Was that why you were so cold? Unable to feel anything if the two nicked at your arms?

Questions just ran through your head always. Who was Elizabeth? Was she as beautiful as you thought? The mystery man only spoke of her and, how she felt, as he walked you down this hallway. His big hand on the small of your back, and a sinning smile plastered on his face. A smile almost resembling the devil's wicked smile. How he felt, similar to the sinners being condemned to nothing but pain for the rest of their lives. Sure what he wanted was wrong, but he didn't find anyone else as pretty, and never brought harm to his wonderful wife. She was too gorgeous to touch.

One or two open rooms, so he brought you into a random room, setting your hazy self onto the lonely bed. "Such a beauty.." the man whispered. Blurry eyes found his face again, eyes almost made to look friendly, a thin moustache adding to his look. What a feeling stuck to your heart. A feeling of want and belonging with this man, but knowing he was a married man. You weren't a harlot! Certainly not a tired one. Despite the blurry face, finding you beautiful, it was always certain that he adored his wife so much more. The way he spoke of her, it was like Lucifer had found another fallen angel...one just as similar as him, desperate for some odd chaos in the perfect chaos of heaven. if only you could find the odd in perfect.

But no, you were laid lazily, blinking back any tiredness. He was kneeled by a small heater. Putting some fuel in it. Your-

"HEY! I've been calling you for the past few minutes." Natacha's voice bringing your head up to meet hers. The dust and grey from her, falling onto you. You just nodded and stood, going to follow her. Leaving the room where your corpse had rotted away, and into the lonely hallway once again.

Light.

Light? Was it real? Two men walked into the hall nervously, shining torches? Down the walls. They only took a few steps before the desperate couple practically devoured them. Leaving no blood to waste. Nearly 100 years of hunger would drive anyone insane, you understood that even if you were just a ghost. Watching them feed scared you, but you thanked the gods you were dead. You were dead. That realisation you made years ago only rang true now. Now you were stepping outside of that trapped hallway.

It was only wonder that filled your 'innocent' mind. Taking steps like a fawn for the first time. Shaky, nervous, and feeling like falling. It was just, so bright outside the hallway. Unnaturally bright. It hurt. Why did it hurt so much? Feeling like a zombie despite only being a walking soul. A shell of someone once living. A shell of an unwanted, unloved human, living lonely in the background of others.

Other souls were amongst you, it seemed. Plenty of them. They were all just as bad as the blood-sucking actors you loved so much when you were alive. All craving to cause such chaos. Cause a little bloodshed when bored of living in their own heads. These living halls and walls were, identical. It would've maddened you, if not for the fact you followed the room numbers. This was a hotel, wasn't it? It most likely still was. But every wallpaper, every carpet and door were identical to the 20s. Almost like they weren't allowed to change anything about it.

legs at the edge of the bed, hanging over a little. Was the man putting the heater on? How kind of him. But he didn't fully put it on. Once stood up straight, he looked back at you. Blurry eyes now looking up at him normally. No ounce of softening in his heart. His eyes hardening on your torso. Blush settling on your face. This was absolutely wrong. However, there was an idea that running wasn't your best idea right now. Whatever was about to happen. Then, a small unsheathing. Heart rate quickening as the silver metal met your eyes. That was a knife. A knife?! No, no no...

The man noticed your eyes, your heartbeat, and gave a sadistic little chuckle. What on earth was he planning? Whatever you thought was pushed away as the cold metal pressed against your neck. The feeling made you shiver, your instinct to fight him large. The instinct to give him and let him murder you; larger. Your life felt useless, this would be the perfect way to go. Despite that, you placed a hand over his, to push him away. Such worked hands, such scars. A finger ran over his knuckles, without notice. But he raised an eyebrow at you, almost disgustingly taking your hand off his and placing it back on your chest. What had gotten into you? Whore... It made mystery man cut you quicker. Your chest, then your neck.

Death. It consumed you quick. Sweet, dark warmth, eating you. It wasn't like you expected. No purgatory, deciding heaven or hell. No. A few minutes of nothing before your eyes awoke to a scene you never thought you'd see. This mystery man, experimenting with your body. Using the heater against your, tempting thighs to warm you up. What would this Elizabeth think?! Nothing else crossed you, as you stood quietly, attempting to not pay attention to whatever it was he was doing.

"You seem new, but old at the same time." A person's voice rang out. It stopped you in your steps and looking up, you were met with a woman? He looked like a woman and spoke effeminately. He must have been a transvestite or something.

In light of your manners returning to you, you cleared your throat, but the voice that came out was still scratchy and throaty. "um. I have been in a hallway, the wall, has been destroyed." Looking down at yourself, you dusted down your nightgown. Then you remembered you were in your nightgown. How embarrassing...the worst thing you could have died in!

The person didn't respond, and instead, you heard his heels click as he walked behind you, probably towards where you had come from. Gulping nervously, you looked and then just swished your head away, carrying on. Now with the embarrassing fact that everyone will see you in your sleeping gown. Something meant for only you. Walking seemed fun now though. You weren't sure about the year, but everything truly was the same.

Ah, an elevator. Just waiting after you pressed the up button, and stepping into it. Oh, what floor were you going to? Uh, this one! You randomly pressed a floor button out of nerves, accepting that you would just get to explore for ages, meeting other freaks and surprises around. It was still such an interesting hotel, and there must have been some changes right? Well, you exited the elevator and started to walk. Walking this direction, this way, over here instead. Muffled noises went past you. Talking, screaming, moaning. Such a lively hotel.

Oh. An open door. 64 the number plate read. Even if the door was open, you knocked and heard a "come in." The voice was so familiar to you. But you couldn't place it. Like a faint memory, you could blurrily place together. It was smooth, sweet and transcendental. You stepped through your cloud of thoughts into the room and looked around.

"I truly am sorry for my appearance, I um, I'm unaware of this place and don't have any other clothes on me." You admitted sheepishly, eyes meeting the man's back. That suit. It was... something else about it. The voice, this, pinned suit, why was it so close but distant to your memory?

As soon as you spoke, the man spun on his heel, and almost dropped his drink when his eyes met yours. Oh. Oh! This was...your murderer. No. It couldn't've been. He would've died years and years ago. But, my he looked so similar to the one who took your last breath. "...you got out?" That was all he said. Shakily, you nodded and stepped back, barefoot on the uncomfortable frame of the door. The way he met your eyes after roaming your body, it was almost animalistic. An urge he'd never have again if he lost you.

Both of you snapped and you ran. You ran through the hallways. Mystery man chasing you slowly. But with every long step he took, and every look back, he seemed closer and closer. How was this real? No, dreaming. The both of you circled back to room 64. Rushing in, you shut the door and slammed yourself into the bathroom. Mystery man was just as fast. Entering the room a few minutes later with an almost sadistic chuckle. Oh, you shouldn't be feeling this pit of warmth right now. What was wrong with you? This chase, still unknowing of his name after this long... "You cannot hide for long my bird. I know you have questions."

It was true. Your brain was rattled with questions. Who was he? Why did he kill you? Why were you feeling this pit at his laugh? Why was he so- Absolutely not. He was your murderer. When did he die? So silent minutes passed quickly before you opened the door with a deep inhale and exhale.

Nervous eyes meeting dead ones. Practically soulless despite his soul standing in front of yours. He smiled a fake smile at you, taking your hand like a gentleman. Leading you to a chair and sitting you in it, placing a small drink of whiskey in front of you. "Ask me my bird."

"Who are you." It was a statement more than a question, but it was the one looming at the forefront.

"James Patrick March. I built this hotel, I ghost it." Your eyes flickered with a burn. Nearly all your questions were answered already. He was the creator of this building, it was something you had heard of, but you didn't take too much interest.

"Okay. Well then..who was Elizabeth?" Your heart tugged at the question. Always compared to such a lady before your death. A useful death, but with a comparison, you had to know. But, he told you. Everything. James told you every single little detail. She was still here but didn't care for him. A little bit of relief washed over you. A bit. Whatever this feeling was in your...stomach? was, it was annoying, and you despised it. Pushing it down with the mention that he still cares for her. Meeting with her every month for dinner, catering to any want to ask she asks of her. A pathetic puppy whining at its master's leg for some attention. James was so...proper...and neutral.

"...if that's the case, why did you say that if you weren't courting her, you would court me instead? All those years ago." He hasn't thought about your death in years. He's murdered dozens as time went on and on. He's experimented, failed some and won others. You remembered his words to you?

"You are indeed beautiful bird, and I would have. At that time, I loved The Countess dearly. I still do. She is my one. While I have not had any idea to court anyone else within the time of our agreement, it is occasionally a lingering thought." That raised more questions. More interrogating, what did he mean by that? Wouldn't she also have died plenty of years ago? Your eyes watched the table in front of you as you scanned your mind for plenty of reasons and questions.

"is...is she like the two that were trapped with me?" Eventually, you spoke again, hands clasped together and nerves boiling over.

Words merged together as the both of you spoke about everything and nothing. So, vampires were real. Technically...what an odd time for you to be un-living in. At least you would not be a victim. Dead for almost a century, and not the prettiest ghost here. The more modern deaths were certainly beautiful, knowing it, and flaunting it so happily. Just to murder...

Murder.

The word rang through your head as James talked about your death. About why he used your rotting body. About why he had that heater between those intimate thighs of yours always. He needed a body to experiment with. One he couldn't just dare put more slashes on. An open neck and open chest was good enough. You were bewildered. Dumbfounded and confused as he explained his reasoning. Simply because he could. He murdered and used bodies simply because he could. How deranged.

Oh. There was that pit again. Damnit. Whatever it is, you needed to be rid of it. Rubbing the part of your body where your womb was, you stared at the undrunk whiskey hard. Furrowed eyebrows and unmoving eyes. The murderer took notice and leaned towards you. "Are you feeling okay my dear?" His dead breath so close to you. Why, oh why was this pit in your womb so obvious to you? He killed you! Obviously, no feelings should be felt for him apart from hatred. Was it hatred in your womb? No. James probably knew what you were feeling and wanted to tease you with it.

Tease you? But of course. Such an untouched woman was easy to please and make fun of. A simple kiss on your cheek and a hand lingering on your jaw. The pit, it felt like it had just spilled. Like it had spilt and flowed from your womb to the chair you were sat on. Even more embarrassing than being in your nightgown only. You wouldn't mention it. You couldn't. You weren't shameless, and he was a gentleman. Still a gentleman even though his words said otherwise.

It was only when you stared blankly up at the ceiling and James had left the room that you realised what happened. Left on the bed, with the remembrance of those scratchy, desperately uncomfortable bed sheets. But this time you felt frozen, and...naked. Every single little fibre of the duvet on your skin, and feeling it move on top of you when you adjusted yourself. Still as uncomfortable as it was those years ago. Your feet met the ground as you sat up, and picked up the nightgown again. What a thing to die in... something meant for only you. Now everyone you would pass would see it, and judge you harshly.

It was put back on as soon as you stood. The pit in your womb just felt better once James finished. Like you just needed him to, make you feel warm despite the both of you being cold always. He walked in and was holding up some clothes. "My dear I have brought you a dress. You do not need to wear that anymore." The folded fabric was spread out on the bed, and it was a simple black one, floor length and full sleeves down to the wrist. Such a gorgeous dress, unsure of wether or not it would even fit you.

After just looking at James with worry in your eyes, he sighed softly and took your nightgown off you again, thumbs grazing the wound under your breasts. It was grotesque, but god it was such a sweet feeling on his fingers. Feeling his work, and admiring it. Romantic touches, with nothing but admiration for his murder behind it. It was like he was obsessed with it, unable to hide how much he loved his kill. He gave the same touches to your neck. Hearing the small whimpers leaving you as his fingers traced the edge of your neck. The way you were touched wasn't like anything before. Intimate and dangerous parts of you explored more than you were explored a few minutes ago. "So sweet.." He sighed quietly, before slipping the dress on you.

A perfect fit, and James admired it. He looked at you like you were...well like you were The Countess. Being stared at nicely was weird, but something you figured you had to get used to. He had claimed you, not like you knew that though. Such a beautiful victim, at the time unclaimable. Now as claimable as any other person in the god-forsaken hotel you were stuck in.

"you will be a beautiful accessory to murder my darling."

⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷

Tag: @babygorewhore @taintandviolent @slvt4jamesmarch @slutforgarlogan @fear-is-truth / @coentinim @bluerthanvelvet444 @nahoyasboyfriend @carniv0reev @yandereunsolved / @briaroftheroses @doll3tt33

[tiny-wooden-robot-fics]

Magnolia - Chapter Two

Rating: Explicit Media: Jujutsu Kaisen Pairing(s): Geto Suguru x Original Female Character, Geto Suguru x Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru x Gojo Satoru x Original Female Character Additional Tags: Vampire AU, Dark Themes, Implied/Reference Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Depression, Loneliness, Eventual Smut

A/N: More tags will be added as chapters are updated. Please be mindful of the tags and warnings at the beginning of each chapter, as they will tell you what you need to know about the content within.

Minors, DNI.

Summary:

“How?” Her heart is racing. She asks it, not sure she wants to know the answer. There is something in the pit of her stomach, some feeling that she can’t put words to. It chills her.

“Do you really want to know that?” He’s turned away from her now, collecting the broken pieces of the smashed vase and the scattered flowers, dumping them into the wastebasket.

No. “Yes,” she whispers. “I think I have the right to know. I remember how the cuts looked. At the rate I was bleeding out, stopping the blood flow would’ve been almost impossible.”

Chapter Navigation 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17

Read on AO3

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of blood, vague references to hunting and killing animals

Chapter Two: Scattered Magnolias

One need not be a chamber - to be haunted One need not be a House The Brain - has Corridors surpassing Material Place -Emily Dickinson, One Need Not be a Chamber - to be Haunted

--

“You didn’t.” 

The tone of Satoru’s voice is reproachful, as if he is scolding an unruly child for misbehaving. He can almost envision Satoru at the other end of the phone line, on the other side of the world: tapping his foot impatiently, rolling his eyes, wondering how Suguru could be so reckless, so stupid, so sentimental.

It irritates him. “I did,” he replies. 

“Why? I didn’t think you were in the market for a pet.”

“Stop it, Satoru,” he snaps. “I wish you wouldn’t call them that.”

“But isn’t that what they are?” His husband asks it reasonably, as if it’s the most logical thing in the world to refer to humans as though they are domesticated animals. “They’re weak and fragile. They die too quickly. And they need all sorts of troublesome things.”

“The last time I checked, food and water weren’t ‘troublesome things,’” Suguru sighs witheringly. 

“I’m not talking about that,” Satoru rebuts. “I mean the other stuff. They need reassurance, affection, praise. Who has time to waste on that?”

Not you, clearly. If you did, you’d be here, instead of all the way on the other side of the world. “I have to go,” he says aloud. “She’ll probably be waking up soon.”

“Don’t forget to pick up after her when she shits,” Satoru snickers. “I’ve heard you can get fined if you don’t.”

Suguru doesn’t bother to answer him, simply disconnecting the call instead. 

--

She’s listening through the crack in the door and can hear exactly when he stops talking. The silence after doesn’t last long - the end of his one-sided conversation is followed by a bang, as though something has been knocked over. 

“I take it that wasn’t a pleasant phone call,” she offers softly, cautiously stepping out into the hallway. 

He doesn’t seem to be startled as he turns to face her. Her eyes fall on the vase of flowers that’s very clearly been thrown to the floor. The vase is shattered, water and magnolia blossoms littering the floor in a mess at his feet. “I’m sorry if I woke you,” he murmurs, setting the wastebasket in his hand down. 

“I’ve been awake for a while,” she answers. “Though I don’t know how long ‘a while’ is,” she adds thoughtfully. 

“You slept for a little more than a whole day.”

The news should surprise her, but it doesn’t. She looks down at her wrists. They’ve been bandaged up. “I thought I did it right,” she says, her voice soft. “I guess I fucked it up, just like everything else I do.” She adds that last with a laugh, but it sounds hollow and sad to his ears.

“You… if you mean your technique,” he starts, “that wasn’t done wrong. You cut exactly as you should have if you were trying to kill yourself.”

“I was trying to kill myself.”

“Were you?” 

Something about the way he has asked the question makes her realize that he doesn’t believe her. “What did you do to me?” 

“Stopped your bleeding.”

“How?” Her heart is racing. She asks it, not sure she wants to know the answer. There is something in the pit of her stomach, some feeling that she can’t put words to. It chills her. 

“Do you really want to know that?” He’s turned away from her now, collecting the broken pieces of the smashed vase and the scattered flowers, dumping them into the wastebasket. 

No. “Yes,” she whispers. “I think I have the right to know. I remember how the cuts looked. At the rate I was bleeding out, stopping the blood flow would’ve been almost impossible.”

He pauses in his movement, his back still facing her. “Maybe I’m just really good at first aid.”

She doesn’t believe him. “I don’t believe you.” Her hands are trembling, and so is her voice. 

Letting the last of the broken pieces of porcelain fall into the wastebasket, he sighs. A moment later he stands and turns to face her again. “No, you don’t believe me… but you also already know what the truth is, don’t you?”

“I thought I might have been dreaming,” she admits. “Or maybe that I’d… that I’d already died.” She looks away from him. “You killed something.”

“I did,” he agrees. The swift candor makes her flinch, but she says nothing. “I went out to hunt,” he continues, “and found you. I thought it was better to take from a creature I was going to kill anyway than to take from you.”

She knows his blunt, honest words are meant to reassure her, but she can’t stop herself from trembling. 

“You’re frightened.” 

He’s still speaking softly, his tone gentle. She wonders if that is just his way, or if he speaks that way because he thinks doing so is less likely to frighten her. 

She looks back at him, trying to keep her heart from racing and her breathing even. “Was that a question?” She asks, knowing very well that it wasn’t. 

He doesn’t answer her right away. Instead, he inclines his head to gaze openly at her. There is no hostility in his expression, and it gives her the courage to study him right back. 

He is beautiful, this enigmatic man. He towers over her - not because he is using his body in an imposing way, but simply because he is so tall. She scans the broadness of his shoulders and the rounded peaks of muscle beneath his long-sleeved shirt… and suddenly it makes sense why he was able to carry her as though she weighed nothing.

But that isn’t the only reason why he’s so strong and you know it, her brain reminds her. If he is what you think he is, he has inhuman strength. 

She ignores the thought, bringing her gaze back up to rest on his face. Beautiful, she thinks again, taking in the features of his face. Dark lashes that fan out over pretty purple eyes. The sharp, handsome angle of his nose. The way his lips seem perfectly formed to fit his face. 

His eyes are kind. The thought comes to her, uninvited. She looks closer, wanting to prove that thought wrong. No… I was right the first time. His eyes are kind. 

He begins to close the distance between them in just a few strides. The closer he gets, the higher she lifts her chin in order to sustain the eye contact between them. Gentle tone and kind eyes aside, she will be damned if she allows herself to forget what he is. 

When he reaches up with one hand and draws it near to her face, she grits her teeth in an effort not to flinch. “I won’t hurt you,” he tells her, his voice soft. “It would be against my interests to do so.”

“How do I know that?”

His hand continues along its plotted course until his fingers make contact with her skin, cupping her cheek in his palm. She tries not to lean into his touch, but it’s difficult. He is warmer than she imagined he could be for what he is, and it has been so long since she’s felt the warmth of another person this way.

“You don’t,” he answers, the corners of his dark eyes crinkling as he offers her a smile that is just as warm as his hand. “But I hope you’ll trust me long enough to see the truth of it for yourself.”

She inhales - a small, shallow breath to remind herself that she is still alive. For whatever reason, he has seen fit to use his power to keep her around. Letting her breath out slowly, she shakes her head. “I don’t know enough about you to trust you.”

“I know.” He’s still smiling at her warmly. “I know you don’t.”

“I may never trust you.”

“I know that, too.” His smile never falters, but there is a flicker of sadness in his eyes. 

“Then why bring me here at all?” She knows it’s an unfair question; he saved her life, and she should consider herself lucky and be grateful that he intervened where he wasn’t obligated to. Having been snatched back from the precipice of the death she was so sure she would meet, she realizes that perhaps falling over the edge of that precipice wasn’t what she wanted at all. 

She shakes her head, struggling to find a way to rephrase her question and coming up empty. “I’m sorry.”

She isn’t sure why her words make him chuckle, and she’s even less sure why she finds herself wanting to make him laugh again. His laughter is warm, just like his eyes and his hand. It’s enticing, inviting. She’d like to hear more of it. 

“You don’t need to apologize,” he tells her, when his laughter has subsided. He strokes her cheek with his thumb. He reaches out with his other hand, gently holding her left wrist and running his fingers lightly over the bandages there. “I made you a promise.”

“A promise?” Confused, she scrunches her nose up. 

“A promise,” he repeats, but he elaborates no further.

Hesitation grips her, making her tongue thick and slow to respond. She lowers her head, her gaze on where his hand encircles her wrist. “Thank you,” she starts quietly, when she finds her voice again. She raises her chin so she can look directly into his eyes once more. “For saving me.”

He blinks at her, a beat of silence passing between them before he gives her a nod. She thinks perhaps he means to say something else, but he doesn’t. He drops his hand away from her face instead, and she laments the loss of its warmth. “You must be hungry,” he starts, turning away from her. “Let me fix you something to eat.”

Chapter Navigation 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17

Chapter Three: Coming Soon

[tan1shere]

Treat

Young Miko X female reader !

A/n: just a lil something for you all <3

Summary: Miko had been working in the studio all day and she comes home to food, drinks and nakedness ;)

Warnings: smut ! Mdni. Fingering, pet names, swearing- pretty sure that's about it !

Masterlist

There was no denying that you were excited for Miko to come home. She had been in the studio all day and you missed her tons. She had been working so hard lately and you were incredibly proud of her for that, so. You being the kind and generous soul you are, you decided to make her a lovely meal. It was and will be late by the time she gets home, the darkness of outside cascading into your small home. Having nothing but a candle lit. So far this was going quite romantic, but you had a bigger surprise for her. You had cooked her favorite meal, setting it on the table and preparing everything else, some drinks for the two of you also. When you see her car pull up, you scurry up to your guys bedroom, beginning to strip. You had contemplated whether you should be fully naked or have some cute lingerie on. But you knew once she would see you. She'd want you right away, and you didn't want to keep that from her as she deserves it and nothing less. "Honey I'm home." She says in a slight joking way, quoting that one line. Her steps come to a halt once she sees the table all set. "Baby?" You don't respond wanting her to come up to find you in all your naked glory.

She begins to make her way up to your shared bedroom, instantly stopping in her tracks when she spots you, her eyes widen as she stares at you, speechless. "Whats- what's all this for?" Her mouth hung open a tad. "Thought you deserved a treat. You've been working so hard." You begin going towards her, slowly but surely. "So I made food." "I saw." You inch closer. "And decided to do this alongside." She bites her lip, looking down at your figure, now being close to her. "We haven't even eaten yet." She breathes out. "Thought you may want something a little sweeter beforehand." You now bite your lip, making her lick hers. "That's incredibly tempting." That makes you grin. "Well then, come get me." You keep that grin on, turning around and crawling back onto the bed. She was obsessed with you, there was no doubt about it. "Can't believe all this is for me." Moving over to lean against your body, you look at her lips. "Mhmmm, you're so special." She smiles. "And you're so hot."

You lean in connecting your lips against hers, it felt heavenly, seeing as you haven't been by her since earlier this morning. The kiss slowly heated up, making you loose your breath, but in fairness. Did you care? No. She moves her hands to your hips, knowing she could touch absolutely anywhere right now, but she takes it slow, wanting to savor this moment. You knew that wouldn't last long as you felt the current nakeout sesh intensify. "I missed you all day. Was thinking about you." You let out a hum against her lips. "I missed you too." She smirks. "Yeah?" Making you reply with a breathy 'mmm' her kisses move to your neck, grazing the skin while beginning the sucking assault. You let out a small breath, it slowly turning into a moan as she sucks harder. Her soft hand makes contact with your thigh making you softly gasp. The kisses move down lower, moving to your newly hardened nipples, sucking almost instantly. You once again let out a moan, a bit louder than the last.

"Please.." Your breath is uneven, getting needy for more of her. More of her touch. She lets out a low hum, continuing to suck around the bud. The hand that was once on your thigh, moves painfully slow, close to where you needed it most. She hovers it over there, as if she awaited something else. "Baby." You whine slightly, making her brain go all fuzzy at the lovely noise. This makes her waste no time, touching your sopping folds. Resulting in your mouth opening, letting out the occasional moan as she moves her fingers against you. "You're so wet already. Have barely touched you." She speaks against the flesh of your boob. You could hardly think straight at all now, closing your eyes and focusing on her fingers. "F-fuck. Faster.." her moves do infact speed up against your clit, when she suddenly moves them to your entrance. Giving you no warning, slipping them in and working away at your core. "You make such pretty sounds mama." Your eyes roll all the way back as she fingers you, deep. You couldn't get enough you wanted to be closer to her.

"Mm- I need you." You say. Honestly you didn't know what you needed, but Miko somehow does. "Want you to cum before we move onto the next thing ok?" She was all about your pleasure first which turned you on to the max. Her words, her movements. "I- I'm gunna cum!" You breathe out, feeling the liquid go onto her fingers. Your breath is rapid, slowly but eventually coming down from your high. She removes her fingers, without any thought into putting them in her mouth. "Best meal, ever." You felt like you were dreaming. "N-need." You try to get out, going to tug on her pants. She got the hint going to take them both off, along with her shirt. You run your hands over her stomach, tits. Going to kiss her again as she lines up with your pussy. You were too distracted by the kiss, that when you felt her hot cunt on yours, you let out a breathy moan into her mouth. Falling into the mattress as you couldn't hold your weight up.

Your back arches off the bed, begging to feel it all. Desperate for it. It was genuinely messy but so delicious. "I needed this all day." She rasps. Enjoying every bit of it. You reply with a moan, keeping your eyes shut. "Baby, eyes on me. Please." And how could you ever deny that. You immediately open your eyes to look at her, but it was a struggle, wanting to relax into the feeling more. Your eyes were droopy, hooded. "Mmm fuck." You eventually manag to get out. Keeping your mouth agape. She watches you so closely, your lips, tits, noises. Everything. "Look at me mami." This just makes you arch your back more as she keeps the same pace she's been going at. "Wanna watch you as you cum." She continues out of breath. "I- I'm so close." She nods. "I know. Me too angel." As you could feel it approaching you feel her hand grab one of your breasts, squeezing and pinching. That sends you overboard, cumming right against her with a small scream of her name, she follows not long after. Let's just say, that food downstairs were going to become leftovers.

[ofallthingsnasty]

If your inbox is open could I please request a yandere sae where he traps his Darling by getting them pregnant and also this is around the time where he kidnaps them and they get Stockholm Syndrome if you're uncomfortable with this feel free to ignore my request

hey hey!! sure it's pretty much always open 🤗 thank you for giving my brain something to chew on - this really tickled me bc he isn't necessarily the first character i think of when i think yandere bllk! a cold one, for sure 🥶

tags: yandere, sae is 20+, emotional abuse, baby trapping (no pronouns used for reader but they can get pregnant), noncon mention, smidge of unreliable narrator word count: 0.6k

Sae is one thing: selfish. He knows you're here against your will and he simply doesn't care. He gets what he wants. You won't ever know why exactly he picked you out of all the possible people to obsess over because he won't ever treat you like one would a spouse. He's blunt, he's brash, he's an asshole - even to you. He doesn't keep you small on purpose, Sae is just like that. Unlike some others, he doesn't criticize you to snuff out your self-esteem, he truly thinks what he says. You'll learn how to play by his rules and admittedly - he is fair, at least as far as he is concerned. Neither cruel nor sadistic, he simply expects you to conform and be perfect for him. Deviate from his vision for you and he'll let you know- but as long as you are good for him you won't hear a single word.

He actually strikes me as one of the few from Blue Lock who would choose to kidnap you - it's easier and keeps you by his side. He's pragmatic like that. And because Sae doesn't need your love - he simply takes what he wants - he doesn't care for all that lovey-dovey shit, either. Watch him simply lock you away even though you have never talked to each other. He's convinced you're perfect for him and that's enough. He really wastes no time. In his opinion, your predicament isn't all too bad, even beneficial. Isn't this what so many people strive for? Marry rich, be pampered for the rest of your days, no more worries, no more hurt? Really, you should be over the moon to be the spouse of a famous soccer player. He'll tell you as much; that you should be grateful for the roof over your head, that you'll never have to work another day in your life because of him, that you'll have everything you'll ever want - and that being kept like this is the trade-off, that he expect payment from time to time. All your fighting, your scratching, your crying - it doesn't matter to him. It's annoying, sure, but it won't stop him at all. (Although even Sae has his limits. If you keep screaming at him how you don't care for the designer clothes, the expensive furniture and his stupid house, he isn't above showing you what you're taking for granted right now. Some nice, quaint nights in the basement with little food and water and no clothes should set your head straight. Not cruel. Just pragmatic.)

And because he takes such good care of you, he deserves something else in return, doesn't he? A baby is perfect. It's easy to realize that dream - he's expecting sex from you regularly, anyway and never really bothers with birth control. In the beginning, he humored you a little by using condoms (to soften the blow, so to speak) but by now he simply doesn't care anymore. The thought of you pregnant with his child excites him more than he'd like to admit. It isn't necessarily about keeping or trapping you - he just wants to start a little family with you. (And maybe, just maybe, he is actually a tiny bit in love with you, not just obsessed.) He won't tell you of his decision, he simply fucks you more often. But you're smart enough to catch on, with time - too bad you don't stand a chance against a pro athlete when he bends you over for the tenth time this week and tracks your periods, waiting for your fertile window. You can only grit your teeth and take it, terrified of the day he actually knocks you up.

And as always, he doesn't get why you're making such a fuss; you only have to be good for him. He'll take care of you and your child, you'll see.

[dotster001]

Le Chasseur d'Amour, Chapter Two

Summary:Rook x gn!reader. On earth, your mind begins playing tricks on you again. In twisted wonderland, Rook begins his journey.

Chapters: One Three Four Five

"I'm home," you announced as you tossed your keys on the couch. No one responded, so you texted a family member that you had made it home safe from work. They always wanted to know where you were. You couldn't really blame them, especially with how volatile you'd been when you'd been "found".

You sat down with a groan, propping your aching feet up. You definitely were regretting how you told your family you weren't going to college because you "already had a degree". Maybe you could have had a job where you sat all day, instead of standing. Still, neither job sounded all that appealing, if you truly thought about it.

You looked at the time on your phone and groaned when you saw how much day was left. You searched your brain to decide what to do with yourself, when you heard a sizzling sound. 

Confused, you stood up and searched for the sound, finding yourself in the bathroom.

"The fuck?" You muttered, staring at the orange, burning, starting on the edge of your mirror and slowly moving inward.

The parts that weren't burning showed a foggy room, a pair of green eyes that you knew from your dreams flashing for a moment. The sizzling sound got louder, and you shouted as the mirror, and bathroom light bulb, shattered.

You covered your face with your arms, petrified. When it felt like you could move again, you looked at all the shattered glass around you, and took a deep shuddering breath, before letting out a scream.

Once the scream had settled you, you calmly pulled out your phone, called your therapist to set up an emergency appointment.

….

Rook was hastily packing a bag full of belongings; some food, some thaumarks, a couple random potions.

"Wait, you're planning to leave right now?" Vil asked, startled by the fevered look in Rook's eyes.

"Obviously. I can't waste another moment without mon amour."

"But you don't know where the portal lets out!"

"My signature spell will guide me!"

"And what if they use different money than ours?"

"I can live off my surroundings."

"What if Y/N has found someone else?"

Rook turned to him, his face split with an anger unlike any other. 

"Roi du poison, if you are insistent on staying in my way, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

Anyone else would have backed down. But Vil knew Rook better than anyone. And he knew someone had to be reasonable.

"It's been five years, Rook. Listen, I miss them too, but-"

"But you can't feel them pulling you, can you? You have no idea what it's like!" Rook shouted, his eyes quickly filling with pained tears.

"They're right there," he whispered hoarsely, his voice raw in a way Vil had never heard it before.

He stared silently for a minute.

"You're such a potato sometimes. At least make preparations before we leave."

"We?"

"Do I have to repeat myself?"

"I can't ask you to-"

"Hush. I can't leave you alone in some strange dimension, now can I?" Vil pulled out his compact and reapplied his lipstick. "Honestly, you're hopeless without me, Hunt."

Rook just stared, ever in awe of his queen. Vil sighed. 

"At least pack us both a change of clothes. It'll do you no good if you reek when you reunite with your beloved."

Rook rushed off, no doubt to grab his most fashionable garb. While he was away, Vil curiously approached the glowing mirror, holding his palm an inch from the surface.

"I hope you're in there, Y/N," he whispered, a final prayer for a heartbroken friend.

Rook came back with two bags.

"I have everything we need. Let's go."

Before Vil could even react, Rook had grabbed his wrist and pulled him through the portal.

When they had both come to, they looked around. It appeared they were in a public restroom, and a nasty one at that.

"Revolting, I hate it here already," Vil gagged, "and what are we going to do about that mirror?"

Rook looked around, before pulling out his pen and miniaturizing it, sticking it in his pocket.

"You think they won't notice their mirror missing?"

"You think I care if they notice?"

Vil sighed. After all these years he never truly learned.

"So Y/N's…here?" The here was spat out, like the word itself was the disgusting part.

"Non, non, something shifted when we stepped through," Rook said offhandedly, "but I know where they are."

"Where?"

Rook grinned and started to walk away.

"Where? How dare you ignore my question! Where are they?"

....

Tag list- @shytastemakerthing @eccedentesiast-sapphic @leoll @stygianoir

[echo-goes-mmm]

Silas and Wren #2

Masterpost

Previous

Next

Warnings: brief mention of future non-con

The carriage ride back to his home was… awkward. Now that he had someone to talk to, what was there to say?

He had to encourage the slave to sit on the carriage bench and not the floor. The slave sat obediently, staring at the floor. 

“Is the wood so interesting?” Silas joked. The slave startled. 

“I’m sorry, Master,” said the slave, who wrapped his arms around himself.

“No, I mean-” Silas sighed. Off to a great start. “I’m sorry. I’m Silas. Do you have a name?”

“Only what you wish to call me, Master.” 

“Well, what did your mother call you?” The slave looked up at him, surprise on his face. He looked away, out the window.

“She called me Wren,” he said, wistful.

“Then that’s your name.”

“Oh! Thank you, Master.” Wren smiled at him, a tiny happy thing. He was pretty when he smiled. His freckles stood out more and they matched well with his reddish hair.

Silas noticed a mark on the back of Wren’s left hand. It was raised, a perfect circle with an S in the center. A brand. He searched his brain for a pleasant conversation topic. He didn’t want to think about it.

“Have you ever been over the border?” he asked.

“No, Master. I don’t know anyone who has.” 

“Oh. Well, it’s very nice. Lots of trees.” He could have smacked himself. ‘Lots of trees’? Really?

“Um, that does sound nice. I like trees.” 

They lapsed into silence again. Wren had taken to watching the countryside go by. 

Maybe things would go better at home.

___________________

He paid the driver and tipped well. The estate was small, compared to his family home, but Silas preferred ‘spacious’ over ‘enormous’. He didn’t need more rooms to emphasize that no one visited him.

He had converted part of the east wing into a kitchen and pantry for his human, and ordered plenty of food. Hopefully Wren wasn’t allergic to anything.

His home didn’t have many original widows, so he had a few made. He would just figure out a way to avoid them if he got a cold. 

Wren’s bedroom was also in the east wing. His was in the west. Silas didn’t want to intimidate Wren, so neighboring bedrooms wasn’t an option. 

He prayed Wren wouldn’t avoid him. He wasn’t sure if could stand the prospect of more rejection.

He led Wren to his bedroom, and his eyes were as big as saucers.

“This is all for me? Really?”

“Do you like it?” asked Silas, nervous. “I wasn’t sure about the color, but it could be painted again. And I could get you a different rug if you want. And anything else you want.”

“I- I don’t need anything else, Master. You don’t need to waste your money on me.”

“It’s not a waste,” said Silas. “I just want you to be comfortable.” He shifted a little. Wren looked like he was about to cry. 

___________________

It was all for him. The bedroom, the brand new kitchen and fully stocked pantry, he even got his own bathroom and shower. 

The door even had a lock on the inside. He could lock his Master out, even if only technically. Vampires were far stronger than a bit of copper.

He thought Master Silas was pretty scary, but maybe he wouldn’t be so bad. Wren had put up with a lot without all of these nice things. Surely having them would make whatever Silas wanted to do to him easier to bear. 

Master Silas’s house was so impressive, he could give a slave a room better than most Masters reserved for themselves. Dark wood panels, vivid wallpaper, a plush rug, and a full furniture set (including a couch!). 

The star of the room was the queen-sized four poster bed. He ran his hand over the comforter, almost afraid to touch it. It was so soft.

“I’m sorry,” said Master. “I didn’t buy you any clothes.”

Wren could have cried right then and there. 

“Are you alright?”

“Yes, Master,” he wiped his eyes, “I’m okay. Thank you.”

“Do- do you want to see the rest of the estate? Or we could play a game?”

A ‘game’ could mean anything, so the tour it was.

“I would like to see your house, Master.” Silas smiled at him. 

Master showed him the library (it was impressive, but Wren couldn’t read), a very nice sitting room, the drawing room, sun room, and finally Master’s own bedroom. 

Master’s room was large, and clearly meant for two. It was in what Master Silas called the ‘family wing’, but Wren hadn’t seen another soul in the house. There must be a maid service that he hired, because there was no evidence of servants despite the lack of dust and unpolished furniture.

Wren had never lived without at least a few people around him. He couldn’t talk much to free people, but he made friends with other slaves, even some servants. 

It would be an adjustment for him.

Master also showed him the garden, which was a little confusing. He thought vampires were burned by the sun. It was cloudy out now, but why bother with a beautiful garden when Silas could only enjoy it when the weather was bad? 

He could be wrong. After all, he was only a slave and not very smart. And people who avoided the sun didn’t have windows in their homes, much less in their own bedrooms.

But more importantly, when would Master Silas drink from him?

When would Master want to bed him?

taglist: @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @secretwhumplair @freefallingup13 @mylovelyme @whumpzone

[belzrgr]

Hiii! Hope ur having a good day/night. I was wondering if you could write hurt/comfort abt the reader having a rough time dealing with mental health issues (depression specifically) and sanji comforting them. I understand if not you do you ofc 🩵

I wanted to write more, to actually show you Sanji taking care of you instead of merely telling you about it but it's been sitting in my notes and I didn't want it to gather dust there. Please feel free to request more or something else, though I hope this is a bit like what you've wanted ♡

Sanji & gn! Reader (you/yours)

Tags/Warnings: self-neglect, depression, self-doubt, Sanji wants to help, petnames used for reader (mon amour), hurt comfort

How long has it been since you last changed your clothes? Although you asked yourself this, you couldn't really be bothered either way.

Your body felt heavy, especially your head that laid on your now flat pillow. A grumble came up from your stomach and you curled up with your blanket in your hands. Even though you were so incredibly tired, you couldn't sleep and when you did manage to, it was never enough.

Sooner or later, you would have to stand up and show yourself to the crew unless you wanted them to cone look for you but right now you couldn't get yourself to move. Little particles of dust flew through the air illuminated by the sun shining through the window.

You didn't even know why you felt so sad, why no matter what food you thought of you didn't want to eat anything because nothing sounded tasty, why the idea of doing what would usually bring you joy only sounded like a chore now or why you struggled so hard to even sit up from your bed. Well, that wasn't completely true. Theoretically you knew why but you didn't know why your depression has become so much worse again recently.

Thinking of your crew just made you even more sad now. Maybe they didn't even notice you missing, your brain told you, or maybe they're happy you're not there to drag the mood down.

It made you feel like a burden, wasting away in your bed while the rest had fun outside. What if a fight broke out and they needed your help? You were just dead weight like this, taking up space and food - well not food right now at least.

Despite the chaos in your head, you continued calmly watching the dust in the air outside of it.

The door opened. You looked over to see Sanji standing in the frame and looking right back at you.

"... what's wrong?", he asked you without leaving any room for you to deny that you weren't feeling well. Yet how did you say this anyway? How could you explain to him how you felt so that he understand when even talking made you want to just hide under your blanket completely and ignore everything around you?

Apparently you took too long to answer and Sanji stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. He walked over to your bed and squatted down next to it so your were more around the same eye level. Your gaze never left him and your stomach growled angrily.

"You haven't been outside your room much lately. Don't think we haven't noticed you missing, especially during meals." - Sanji's voice was gentle, not accusing. - "It's not the same without you. We miss you, I miss you. So please, can I help you?"

As he talked, he took the hand you had sticking out from under the blanket. Just so that you could take it back if you wanted but you didn't. It felt nice.

You opened your mouth to say something but closed it again. Then you opened it once more, "Thank you."

Sanji huffed lightly.

"I haven't even done anything yet, mon amour."

His thumb caressed the back of your hand.

"How about I draw you a warm bath and make you something light to eat? You can eat on the deck to get some fresh air too and if you will let me, I could clean up your room a bit."

For a moment, you just stared at him but then you nodded. You still didn't really want to stand up but if he helped you, it didn't seem so impossible anymore.

[our-death-means-flag]

Hi!! Would you be able write ed taking care of reader? Basically like reader falling into a bad depression spiral and ed being the first to recognize what’s going on and trying to help them through it? I’d like it to stay platonic if that’s cool bc also lesbian here I just like baby girl-ifying these old dudes lmao Thank you!! Also loving ur writing so far!!!

For No Reason at All

Ship: Edward Teach & Reader (platonic) Notes: As much as you usually like the whole “talk it through thing, now, you really really don’t want to talk. You’re no stranger to dark days when it feels like nothing good will ever happen to you. It’s always been something you could mostly ignore. Of course, the Revenge is a different kind of ship… Warnings: depressive episode, negative self talk, some slight disordered eating (skipping meals) Title Song: I Can’t Handle Change - Roar

You woke up and really didn't want to get out of bed. 

You’d been feeling shitty for the past few days and you really should have seen it coming. That was how it had always worked. But you’d really thought it would be different now, better.

You were much better off now. You were on a good ship, you had a good crew, good captains, a fucking salary, friends. Hell, if someone had asked you months ago what your perfect job would be, this would be pretty damn close. What more could you possibly need? What reason did you have to still feel so awful when everything was going so incredibly well?

A part of you wanted to put your fist through a wall, you wanted to scream at the futility of it all. But you didn’t. You were too exhausted.  Another part of you wanted to curl up in a ball and just stay in bed. That was much more tempting. Being able to just stay here and rot sounded great. 

But you had work to do. You’d worked through this sort of thing before and you could do it again. The crew needed you.

But did they really need you around? You’re no master pirate by any stretch of the imagination. What could you possibly do for them? You were just another pair of hands. No… Actually, you’re just dead weight. And everyone else would be much better off if you weren’t-

Nope.

You sat up quickly. No, you couldn’t do that. If you let your brain go off on these ridiculous tangents then you’d never get out of bed. You grabbed a shirt and pants and got dressed, not bothering to make an effort beyond that. You pulled your fingers through your hair as you walked and immediately got to work.

You didn’t bother getting anything for breakfast. you felt absolutely awful and you knew that it would all taste like nothing and you didn’t want to waste Roach’s food.

You didn’t deserve any.

No.

You shook your head as if that would erase your nasty thoughts. It didn’t of course but it was worth a shot. As the rest of the crew filtered onto the deck you got a few concerned looks. That was new. On every other ship you’d worked on, no one gave a shit if you didn’t eat or if you felt bad. But on the Revenge? You knew that everyone cared but you didn’t want to talk about it all right now and you didn’t want to bother them with your stupid problems.

Rather than talk to them, you scaled the rigging. You rationalized that someone needed to check it anyway and it might as well be you. If you were able to run away from your problems, that was just a bonus.  You stayed up there as long as possible. You checked everything that was possible to check and double checked everything as well.

Of course you couldn’t stay in the rigging all day. But you admittedly did wait just long enough for the crew to go inside for lunch before climbing down. You briefly considered going to grab food but decided against it, not only would it put you at risk of getting into a conversation about how you were feeling, but you knew that no matter what it was it wouldn’t taste like anything.  (Maybe you could risk getting stabbed by Roach to grab something small later.)

Still hoping to avoid the crew, you walked all the way to the head of the ship. You rested your elbows against the railing and stared out at the sea. You knew you couldn’t avoid the crew forever but you could damn well try. You figured that someone would eventually find you and then you’d have to talk about things but you were a coward and you didn't want to.

 If you’d been in your right mind you probably would’ve noticed beforehand but as you were, Edward nearly gave you a heart attack when he clasped a hand on your shoulder. You jumped, spinning around to face him. 

“There you are, mate. Everyone was wondering where the hell you disappeared too and-“  Ed’s voice trailed off as he seemed to take you in. “You alright?”

You forced a smile, though judging from Ed’s eyes you knew it wasn’t convincing. “I’m alright. Didn’t mean to worry anyone.”

“Y/N,” Ed spoke carefully. “It’s been fucking hours since anyone’s seen you.”

You furrowed your brows. “What? No… it’s not been…” You looked around and properly saw your surroundings. It was sunset. “Uh… What time is it?”

“Just past eight bells.” Ed answered, still staring at you.

“Shit.” You mumbled. You really had been standing here for hours. You had the first dog watch slot today. You needed to get going. “Fuck. The watch. I’m so sorry. I must’ve… zoned out or something… Sorry.” You moved to leave but Ed caught your arm.

“No. You’re not on watch today, remember?” 

You froze. “I…” you stammered. Ed was right. You’d had the watch tonight but you’d swapped with Pete so he and Lucius could do something together. You had watch tomorrow. “Fuck.” 

Ed sighed, he walked up beside you and rested his arms on the railing. “So…”

Before he could ask, you interrupted. “Sorry Captain. It won’t happen again.” Ed raised a brow. Shit. You needed an excuse or something… “I just didn’t sleep well last night.” It wasn’t technically a lie. You hadn’t slept well at all but that was just another symptom of the actual problem.

Ed actually chuckled sadly. “That’s a good excuse. Used it myself a few times.” He sighed.  “Let me guess,” Ed mused, “You feel awful. Like nothing matters, nothing you do matters and you don’t matter.” You withered under the accuracy. “Roach mentioned you didn’t have breakfast and you missed lunch and I bet that’s because you knew it wouldn’t taste like anything right?”

He glanced over at you and you almost winced. Ed had always had such expressive eyes but this time you felt like he was seeing through you and there wasn’t anything good to see there. 

“That… ah, that obvious, huh?” You stammered out. Was it really that obvious? Was just how shitty you felt just written on your face? You couldn’t help but think back to all the times you felt like this around other people. It was that obvious… And no one ever cared…

“Nah,” Ed shook his head. “It’s not that. You hide it pretty well. You just look the way I feel when my head’s being a piece of shit.”

You paused, seemingly realizing what he’d shared with you. “You… You feel like that?” You hated how fragile and almost hopeful your voice sounded. 

Ed sighed, looking ahead at the ocean around you. “Yup. Have on and off for quite a while.” 

“But you’re…” you fumbled for words. You decided to just gesture vaguely at him.

Ed laughed, but there was a kind of tension that wasn’t usually there. “Thanks. But yeah. I do. Doesn’t matter what I do or who I am…” He paused then added a sardonic laugh and a “It fucking sucks.”

“That’s an understatement…” you mumbled. 

 It was odd. Sure you’d gotten to meet Ed as “Ed” rather than Blackbeard but even when he wasn’t Blackbeard, he was so charming and interesting. You certainly knew why so many people were drawn to him. It felt completely wrong for him to feel the way you do.

“You can come hang out in our cabin with Stede and I?” Ed offered, almost out of the blue. 

You immediately rushed to decline. “No, no, I couldn’t possibly bother you both.”

“Wouldn’t be a bother. I’m inviting you. Besides I’m sure Stede wouldn’t mind if you turned up. Hell, he’d probably appreciate having another person around.” Ed was quick to counter. 

“I…” you considered refusing again but in all honesty spending the evening with Ed and Stede sounded nice… “Are you sure?”

“Of course I am!” Ed replied quickly then paused. “I mean… unless you’d feel better if you just went back to your cabin… that’s fine too.” He finished off a bit nervously. 

“Actually spending the evening with you two would be lovely.” Honestly the idea of going back to your cold lonely cabin felt sad. But one question remained. “Why offer though?”

“Because I know how much feeling like that sucks and if I can do anything to help you then I want to. I mean, we're friends.” Ed’s eyes widened. “Are we? Friends that is.”

You smiled somewhat awkwardly. “I think so. Yeah. If you’d want us to be.”

“Hmm. Friends.” Ed mumbled more to himself than to you. He sounded almost proud. Then he glanced at you with a grin. “We should probably head in then. Though I will warn you, Stede just got a new tea set and he’s very excited about it so expect lots of tea.” 

You chuckled. “Sounds good to me.” As Ed turned to leave, you caught his arm the same way he’d caught yours. “Thank you. Seriously.”

Ed grinned. “Of course! We’re friends, remember. And you’re welcome to stick around with us for as long as you need.”

You smiled back. It hadn’t gotten rid of the weight in your mind but it certainly felt so much lighter with your friends around you.

[pukanavis]

"Mystery on a Moonlit Cruise" Epilogue

Location: Sun Deck

Toi: Ani-sama, look at the way the HAMA port twinkles! It’s so pretty…

Ryui: I think your sparkle is even more radiant. Hey, take my jacket. I'll bet that the ocean breeze is making you cold.

Akuta: I always knew that food would taste a gazillion times better in a place like this.

Momiji: This really is an incredible spot. Thank you for showing us, Nanaki-kun!

Nanaki: Don’t mention it. It’d be a waste to hog this place all to myself.

(Even if this is the total opposite of the one-on-one vibe I was hoping for, I’m glad I managed to invite her either way…!)

Kafka: Definitely. The interior of the ship is stunning in it’s own right, but the sun deck is really something else ♪

Nanaki: Oh, Oguro-san—

Momiji: Kafka, you’re back. How’d your chat with the cruise ship director go?

Kafka: Since we’re all here, I suppose now’s a good time to break the news. I won’t ask you to stop eating, but lend me your ears, if you please.

While I was talking to the director, I pitched my proposal for a ‘Sailing to Dreamland’ project and he absolutely loved the idea!

Yukikaze: The combination of sleeping and cruising? That's quite the interesting pair you've come up with.

Kafka: My vision is to turn the time spent aboard into an experience unlike any other by utilising Netaro’s inventions to provide a premium level of relaxation. Pretty innovative idea, right?

Yachiyo: Waah…! That’s incredible, sir! Such a combination is something that us foolish commoners with our static brains stunted by preconceived ideas could never dream of conceptualising!

Yodaka: I see. I’m sure that this will be a warmly welcomed service for those living the fast-paced and taxing lifestyles of the modern age.

Ryui: Just making sure, but you’re not gonna be using Yowa’s inventions the same way he did tonight, are you?

Kafka: Of course not. What happened today was just one mistake away from becoming a far greater issue. I will see to it that nothing like this happens again.

That’s why I’m going to be asking Netaro to make some further improvements on his invention and to write up an in-depth manual! In it's current state, his creation will blindly put both humans and robots to sleep.

Netaro: This is the wo~rst. The invention I made to get out of work has become the very thing to dump a bucket of extra chores onto me~.

Ryui: Sounds like a good way to properly atone for your crimes to me.

Nanaki: Uh…excuse me, Ryui-san.

Ryui: What is it?

Nanaki: About earlier…

Ryui: (Earlier…?)

ーFlashback

Nanaki: If we keep digging into this, it might end up driving us mad with paranoia instead.

Ryui: …

If that’s how you feel then there’s nothing stopping you from sitting on your ass.

Nothing will change as long as you refuse to do anything. Things’ll stay the same as always, and you’ll get to keep hiding away from harm in that safe little bubble.

Nanaki: …Is there something wrong with that?

Ryui: ....Sigh.

Nanaki: I-Is something wrong?

Ryui: No, I just feel like that became a bigger deal than it needed to be.

Nanaki: Oh…I see. Still, I want to thank you.

Ryui: ‘s nothing worth thanking me for.

Muneuji: I’ve been thinking…since music was at the heart of this dilemma, wouldn't that mean that Nanamegi was closer than any of us to uncovering the truth?

Momiji: Oh, really…! It sounds like you were really busy while the rest of us were asleep…!

Nanaki: Oh, uh, it was nothing…besides, Ryui-san was the one who ultimately pressed Yowa-san into confessing everything himself anyway.

Yukikaze: Regardless, you picked up on things that completely slipped by the rest of us. That proves just how observant you are, Nanaki.

Muneuji: Indeed. You really take note of the little things, Nanamegi.

Nanaki: Muneuji…

Muneuji: Even on a daily basis, you translate the sounds Isotake makes, encourage Kinugawa to express his thoughts, and call out U~chan when he refuses to cooperate…

Yukikaze: It’s wonderful how much you care for your friends.

Nanaki: A-Anyone else would do the same!! But thank you!!

(These big brothers that’ll slap you in the chest with praise don’t play around…!!)

Momiji: But don’t people that care for others tend to hide themselves away more?

Nanaki: …!

Momiji: Nanaki-kun, I want you to know that you don’t have to be afraid to tell me anything!

Nanaki: Ah…of course…

Yukikaze: My caring little brother, you can tell me anything too.

Nanaki: T-Thank you.

(...I know I hold myself back, but it's not so much out of consideration for others as it is about being scared that I'll get hurt...)

…Anything, huh?

Kafka: I’m a little concerned…do you think we’ll be able to fall asleep again once we get back to the house?

Nanaki: (I don’t have the courage for that yet—)

Momiji: O-Oh no…I feel like I’m running on an entire night’s rest…

Nanaki: (...As much as I like your sleeping face, your smile really is my favourite.) 

I hope…I’ll be able to tell you someday.

Back | ★

[ughthisisntright]

Puzzles & Pieces | Silco x Reader | Prologue

Summary: You've worked for the Eye of Zaun for too long to not know anything about him.

Warnings: None, general Arcane warnings.

Word Count: 2,028

Next Part

______________________________________________________________

Rain was never a good omen. Perhaps for the farming colonies, it was, but amongst the sumprats of the undercity, shit flows downhill, and the rain only made it worse. “Downhill” was essentially the entirety of the Undercity. All the waste and sewage of Piltover’s finest always found its way into those streets and made the place famous for its unsanitary conditions. Then, when the filth of Piltover had made its arrival, it mixed with the grime and grub that already existed down below, among whatever was left from the last time it rained. No truer words had ever been spoken: “Shit flows downhill.”

Did that stop anyone, though? Of course not. People still went about their business - kids played, teens smoked, and the adults sulked from bar-to-bar looking for their next high. Shimmer. That was where it began, and that will be where it ends. Since the death of the Hound of the Underground was killed, his dear brother had overrun the city with his drug concoction he’d so elegantly named - giving him the power he’d always wanted and every little bit of arrogance one could imagine. Having the world wrapped around your finger was not a good color on anyone, but this man - the Eye of Zaun - seemed to wear it well. And the rain never changed that.

Still the thought lingered in your head that there was something else to this mystery-man, Eye of Zaun facade he held. Silco… You’d worked for the man long enough to know that there was more than meets the eye, but you weren’t exactly sure what that was. You didn’t even quite understand why the man needed a secretary but whenever Sevika comes and “asks” someone to come help out, it means that you’ll either be going willingly or slung, unconscious, over her mechanical shoulder. You chose willingly for fear of whatever brain damage you could have from the woman knocking you out cold with a piece of iron the size of your leg. Sevika was vague about the position, but since you were a regular at The Last Drop, went to a fancy Piltovian Academy and befriended all the right people, she figured you were the best fit for the job. 

Apparently, the Eye himself agreed, at least partially, because there you were, in your third year of working for the man. You’d figured out his routines and what his favorite cigars, whiskey, and foods were, but beyond knowing his superficial trivia, you knew nothing about the man. He was a tight-lipped, old-fashioned, coarse man. You had always hoped this vision of Zaun would have more to offer than what everyone else saw, especially to his secretary. There were plenty of stories about his rough-tough exterior and yet none of the important stuff was shared. No whispers in the night about his gentle side, no rumors about the things he’s washed away in the rain, just those about intimidation and scare tactics. You had genuinely wanted to learn more about the man. But, just as with the rest of the rubbish, the rain took away the secrets he’d cast away.

Instead of lingering on this, you decided the best course of action was to go about your day filing things away neatly for the man as he scribbled his signature on various pieces of paper. Silent moments passed between you, the rain being the only noise aside from his pen on the documents he signed. An exasperated sigh left Silco’s lips and his pen dropped to the desk with a loud thump. Startled, you jumped and looked up and over to his general direction, finding him leaned back in his chair and hands on his head.

“Sir?” you ask quietly, not wanting to startle him. Though, you weren’t actually sure if that was possible. The man grumbled and dragged his hands down his face, clearly frustrated about something.

“Yes, what is it?” Silco replied in a bored, monotonous tone.

“You threw your pen,” you started. You got up from your small desk and made your way to the front of his. “Is there something you need?”

“Yes, please go get me a lighter. I need a cigar,” he turned and looked out the window, gazing at the tall structures in Piltover that taunted Zaun. You took this as an order and quickly retrieved the lighter from the top drawer of your desk. When you’d turned back around to walk back to Silco, you saw that familiar device he used to inject shimmer into his eye. He seemed to be struggling today, but that was not an uncommon occurrence. Usually Jinx is around to help him out with this, but she was busy in her laboratory building some weapons for her father. Your role as secretary had come to encompass this task when she wasn’t around. So, now, you are the most likely to be stuck with this job. 

You walked over to Silco and took a cigar out of the drawer next to him along with the cutter. You snipped the end off and tossed the cutter back in the drawer and discarded the nub of the cigar into the trash. You turned to face Silco and raised a brow, as if to ask if he needed help. He reluctantly agreed.

“I’ll be gentle,” you tease. If there was one thing you were good at doing, it was breaking the tension. Though, once one bit of tension was broken, Silco was always able to fashion another.

“You better know what you’re doing, girl,” he threatened, leaning his head back against the chair. “I’ll have you executed if you screw this up.”

“You worry too much,” you snatched the needle away from him and carefully lined yourself up with him, placing the guide against his orbital bone and checking the alignment before- shink! The needle drove itself into Silco’s eye and a purple tear came flooding out, moans and groans of pain erupting from the man below you. Fortunately, his anger and discomfort were never misplaced and always landed on the chair he sat in, so there was no need to back away.

You placed the device on his desk and then picked up the already-clipped cigar he’d mentioned. You held it to his lips and smirked down at him as he was regaining his composure. Finally, after what felt like hours, Silco snatched the cigar from your hand and placed it in his mouth himself. You flicked the lighter open and sparked the flame for him to light his cigar. He leaned into the flame and puffed a few times to make sure he had a slow, even burn going. You flicked the lighter closed and sauntered back over to your desk without another word.

Thankless. That was the word for the job. Sure, you loved the work, the hours were good, and the pay was nothing to sneeze at, but when it came to any kind of feedback, all you got was negative feedback. Droplets of criticism flung your way whenever something wasn’t done correctly or on-time. You had learned to correct the mistakes quickly lest you face another shower of demeaning criticism, but even at that, whenever something was fixed or you mentioned something good, you were only ever met with a grumble of acknowledgement. Silco was a hard man to break through. Your own charms and default methods didn’t even work on him. You were about to press for some information about him when Sevika came in and Silco shooed you out of the room.

______________________________________________________________

The time you spent out of that office was a blessing. The dark cloud that loomed over Silco’s quarters was enough to drag even the happiest of people down. You chalked it up to his precious “image,” but knew deep down that that, too, would soon wash away. You decided, until someone dragged you back inside, you would take the time to appreciate the stillness in the rain. You stood outside with your umbrella over your head to protect your ornate, business hairstyle along with your work clothes, but outstretched a single hand to let the water run on your bare skin. You took in a deep breath, sucking in the freshly rinsed air that lingered in the streets. Around you, addicts and others skidded around getting to their next fix of whatever vice they chased. But even so you managed to find the calm amongst the persistent chaos of rain.

Your mind wandered to Silco. Your boss took up about ninety percent of your brainspace. The other ten occupied by not much else. He was so enigmatic, and you were so bound to solving puzzles, that his story - his life - had become something of a project for you. Jinx would tell incoherent snippets here and there, but you were able to put those pieces together as you got to know her better. She was more or less the catalyst for your side project. She’d told you about Vander, her older sister, Vi, and everyone else. She’d told you about their relationship and how kind he was to her - a side of him you had yet to see.

She even told you intimate details about his eye.

You were heartbroken to hear the story, even more so when you heard its tragic end. But, all of your conversations with her lead to your borderline obsession with Silco. You needed to understand this man. You began plotting in your head the ways you could get him to open up, but somehow they all came to nothing. Even in your wildest fantasies, Silco was a closed book.

Before long, Sevika was calling your name from the doors of The Last Drop, breaking you out of your daze. How long have you been outside? More importantly: How long has Sevika been standing there calling your name? You quickly walk to her and close your umbrella, shaking any excess water off the fabric before winding it up and securing the fabric with the velcro. You didn’t dare ask what she needed - you already knew.

You scampered through the crowd of people on the dance floor inside and made your way up the stairs to Silco’s office. On your way up, you turned to look back at the patrons of the club - so many of them were regulars and yet, you knew nothing of them. Such is the life of the drug business, you supposed. Your dealings with Silco and the rest of his enterprise cost you the social freedom you once possessed. So it was only natural that you would crave what you can’t have among someone who seemed to be unwilling to give it. It wasn’t before long that you found yourself walking up the stairs again, heaving yourself to the office of the Kingpin you’d left not long ago.

You approached the grand door and rapped your fist on the mahogany wood three times. A drab “come in” could be heard from beyond that grand door. You turned the golden knob with a delicate hand and pushed the door open just enough for your body to slip through, then quickly shut it behind you. For a brief moment you considered asking Silco what that was all about, why you had to leave when Sevika came in. Something you hadn’t allowed yourself to consider during your time out of the office - this secrecy wasn’t normal.

You decided against pressing the issue, instead walking to your desk and sitting down silently. You put on a rickety pair of reading glasses and opened the file folder that sat on top of a stack of invoices and other shipping documents. The thick silence between the two of you was surely felt by you. You thought that there was the expectation of questioning and conversation lingering, but when you looked over the rim of your glasses at the man, he seemed to be far too buried in his work to give any indication that he was expecting you to quiz him. Disappointed, you looked back down at your work and remained silent. But in the distance, thunder rolled, and the day’s waste would soon be washed away.

[boosmidnighthour]

Happy new year! Here's a WIP (emphasis on the WIP) that I started writing a while ago for my favorite, Glacier!

Working Title: glacier falling in love

Fandom: Ninjago

When Cole thinks about it, he really couldn't be more obvious than he already was.

"Go catch up with your boyfriend!" "I hope you two are done making out." "I know you two are having a moment, but we have more important things to be doing." They had been piling on him a lot recently. It bugged him. What exactly did they think he and Zane were up to when no one else was around? They were just friends! Just like he was with Kai or Jay… but clearly no one else shared in that sentiment, except for Zane, though he never said it. It was just obvious whenever he rolled his eyes… At least, Cole thought that was what that meant. Was there something he was missing? Why wasn't anyone telling him? He grumbled to himself as he prepared his chili, something he rarely got to do anymore. (Not that he was complaining- Zane's food is amazing and he gets why everyone loved it more than his- it's just that it had felt like a forgotten hobby.) What exactly could he possibly be missing? He raked his brain as he chopped up some vegetables, frowning to himself. Maybe it was the fact that they always sat next to each other during meals. Well, that wasn't Cole's fault; Zane invited him to, patting the spot beside him. He had done that for days, and every single time, Cole came to join him, before it just became some sort of… routine for them. It would've been rude to reject the white ninja's request! Plus, if Zane suddenly didn't feel like eating that day, the master of earth always had the space for two helpings, so he didn't feel guilty about wasting food. Then, if it wasn't that, maybe it was because he always stayed behind to help Zane clean up after meals… No, it couldn't be. It was only rude to refuse helping a friend out. It wasn't his fault that everyone else always seemed to have something else to do… well, except when Wu or Nya would offer, but that was occasional, and Zane would only glance over at Cole for a moment before returning his gaze back to his sensei or fellow ninja. It always stirred something in his chest, but it was easier not to wonder about that. The master of earth sighed as he dumped the chopped vegetables into the chili, before grabbing the ladle and stirring slowly. If it wasn't either of those, then what could it be that the others were teasing them for?

Late in the evening, Cole had gotten up to get a glass of water. He had spent a lot of his day either training or drawing, and had forgotten about his bodily needs multiple times during the latter. He figured it'd be best if he got up to take care of at least one of them before heading to bed. After all, he had to be up early the next day, and the moon was well up in the sky by now. He stepped into the kitchen of the monastery and reached up into the cabinet full of cups and mugs. He closed the cabinet door after taking one, before nearly jumping up into the ceiling. "Zane- you nearly gave me a heart attack," he breathed out sharply, glaring ahead at the taller boy. He sighed. "We really need to get you a bell…" The other cocked his head and his brow curved upward in concern, the light from the dying kitchen bulb giving him a warm hue, one that clashed with his glowing blue eyes in an… interesting way. "Heart attack?" "No, not literally," the black ninja assured with an amused huff, heading over to the sink to get his water. He caught the way his shoulders and face relaxed with relief before he turned all the way towards the sink, and he had to hide away his humored smile. "Well, then, what bell would suffice? I can always download one if my silent entrances truly are a disturbance." Cole laughed at that. "No, no, I just mean that you're so quiet, I could've taken you for an intruder, and then I would've had to explain to Wu why you were stuck head first in the counter. You're lucky the bulb hasn't completely gone out yet." Zane shared in the laugh. "I suppose I am," he agreed. He paused to let him drink his water, watching all the while, before it seemed curiosity got the better of him and his lips pursed. "... If you don't mind me asking, what are you doing up this late?" "I could be asking you the same question." "I'll answer if you do." Well, fair was fair, Cole guessed. "Just drawing. I haven't been able to in ages, and time caught up with me," he mumbled, glancing away from the other sheepishly for a moment.

"And you?" "... I've been… trying to figure out my full capacities as a nindroid," Zane explained softly, almost reluctantly, looking down at the floor. "Maybe it is morbid curiosity, but I do want to know." It had only been a couple of weeks since the master of ice had learned that he was a nindroid. Cole was surprised. "Y'know, if you don't want to talk about it, you don't have to-" "But I do! I want to! It's just so… different from any of your experiences in life, from Jay's and Kai's, even Sensei Wu's, and after thinking I was the same in that aspect for so long… It almost feels like I'm generally different in every way than I thought I was. It feels like I lied to all of you, but I do not know what about." He sighs and shakes his head. "It is ridiculous, I know." Cole pursed his lips as he looked at the other up and down, trying to figure out what to say. He understood his feelings, maybe not in a way that he had genuinely felt in his own life, but he could empathize, thinking back to his own life and having to figure himself out for years. It certainly wasn't trying to figure one's self out from the ground up, though. "... I feel like that's just what it feels like to be human sometimes," he hummed. Zane looked at him again, an eyebrow raised. "Maybe not all the way, but in some ways. Sometimes, someone learns something about themselves they had never thought would be possible or had never thought about period, and it ends up feeling almost like the end of the world; you never knew this about yourself. You were never lying about who you were, you're just learning something new about yourself with everyone else. You're still the same person." He offered the other a reassuring grin. "That's the most sane response anyone could have." Zan blinked a couple of times, before he returned the smile sheepishly. "You seem to know more about this kind of thing than I thought you would have." "I'm full of surprises!" "Clearly," Zane responded, amused. The two shared a quiet moment as Cole sipped his water, before the black ninja sighed. "I should get some sleep… you coming?" "I will… May I take care of your glass?" "You may." He ceremoniously placed the cup in his hand. "Thanks." "It is my pleasure," the master of ice smiled, taking Cole's place at the sink. "Get some good rest. You are going to need it." The water started as Cole started making his way to the bedroom. "Good night." "Night." Cole had made it to his bunk, and even though he knew he needed to sleep, he couldn't quite reach that peace of mind. Something was stuck up in his brain, and he had to get it out. So, trying not to think about the later consequences of his current actions, he reached for his sketchbook.

(Because Cole stayed up late, he woke up late, yet still tired. “I can hear when you're awake” “Alright, Santa” Wu whoops his ass during training before he makes him do an extra two hours of training and clean the training area until it's spotless. Zane quietly joins in the punishment without being told. He could have gotten away scott free since it doesn't seem Wu had even known he had been awake, but he says that he technically deserved the same punishment, regardless of being caught. It leads the two to bond. Later, Zane feeds him dinner early and ushers him to bed, knowing he's exhausted.)

(Something between)

[Rewrite in Cole's perspective] Zane was making dinner, like he always did. He didn't mind cooking for everyone; he actually quite enjoyed it. It gave him time alone for a bit, let him think about other things. Normally, at least. Here he'd been, chopping away at the ingredients he'd be using, when Cole had entered, uninvited. Usually, this would have led Zane to shoo him away, as he did with anyone that entered without getting permission to- after all, there were knives in small spaces. It was dangerous. But Cole usually wasn't the one to enter; that was left for Kai and Jay. The master of earth knew better… So why was he here now? “Hello,” Zane greeted politely, setting the knife down. He could hear the confusion in his own voice, so he cleared it. “Did you need something, Cole?” Cole didn't say anything for a minute, looking around as if he hadn't meant to walk in at all. He scratched his cheek awkwardly. “I… don't know,” he finally managed, still standing beside the kitchen door. He huffed quietly at himself. “I guess I wanted to ask if… you wanted any help?” Zane blinked, surprised. No one had ever seemed interested in helping him. He raised a brow. “Really? Why would you want to? I feel like it would be… less than entertaining.

[mangoisms]

like the part of the song where it falls ━ miyuki kazuya

━ part five: and probably, if they don’t waste time looking for an easier world, they can do it / read part four

━ wc: 6k

━ warnings: none

━ masterpost

The twenty-fourth of December is spent poolside. 

Your sister and Hector are gone, spending the rest of the year in Europe. They’d asked you to come but you didn’t want to leave Kazuya alone like that. He says he’s used to spending this time of the year alone — he hasn’t been back to Japan since before his second season with the Braves — but just because he’s used to it doesn’t mean you’re fine leaving him alone like that.

You don’t do anything special — he doesn’t celebrate — but just spend time together. Watch some Say Yes to the Dress and some House. Do a few puzzles together. Have him quiz you on your baseball knowledge. Read comics. You brought Volume 1 of your No Man’s Land omnibus collection for him, since, like he said, he was ‘intrigued.’

“Just intrigued, tomcat,” he had stressed to you, upon seeing you beam. “I’m not turning into you. DC is way too complicated for me.”

“I thought you liked challenges?”

“Fun challenges that make me use my brain. Looking at reading guides just makes me want to pull my hair out.”

“Boo.”

But you get it. It really is not for everyone. Most of the time, you just kind of have to go into it without a second thought. Find a reading guide for a character you like and start there. Confusion is just second nature to this stuff. He’s not like that. He needs all the pieces of the puzzle. 

On the twenty-third, which is when you go over to his apartment, you two just hang out. You’ll be spending the night until the twenty-sixth. Since you feed Batman and Robin (your pets, not the characters) twice a day, you have an automatic feeder for them for the few days you’ll be gone, that way he doesn’t have to drive you back and forth between East Village and Normal Heights. 

It is also the first time you are spending the night at his apartment and you try to be really normal about all of it. 

You occupy yourself with studying every detail of it. A fourteen hundred square foot apartment on the twenty-third floor, one bedroom, one and a half bath, with an modern open floor plan, floor to ceiling windows in the living room and bedroom, and a balcony that gives you literal next-door views of Petco Park (like seriously, it’s probably about ten blocks away). 

The whole one bedroom thing would have created a problem if you hadn’t initially said this would be a sleepover. By definition, that means sleeping together. In the same room. But not the same bed. No. 

You could, maybe, but that would be too much. He’d quickly taken over and said he had futons you two could use in the living room. A much better alternative. Though, admittedly, having to sleep separated by only a few feet is… a little more painful. But them’s the breaks! Can’t do anything about it. Nope. 

Anyway… on the twenty-fourth, the two of you sleep in, seeing no use in getting up early since you guys aren’t doing anything. 

You spend the first part of the day lazing around, then you head upstairs. To the very luxurious indoor pool all tenants are allowed to use. Except…

“I didn’t want to be that person, but I asked them about closing it off from anyone else, that way it’s just us.”

“You can do that?” you ask, lifting your eyes from the shiny marble floor of the elevator. 

He shrugs. “For what I pay in rent here, of course. They were happy to.”

“And the fact that you’re you had nothing to do with it, huh?”

“Do you really want other people to be in there with us?”

“No,” you admit. That ran too much of a risk of you two being covertly photographed and recorded. And that just wasn’t fun. Plus, yeah, it would be nice to have this very luxurious pool to yourselves. 

You looked it up. Their indoor pool is on the thirty-second floor, the second to last. They have locker rooms to shower and change in, heated towel racks, and poolside service for food and drinks. Kazuya is bringing snacks and drinks but still. It’s loads better than the shitty little pool at your apartments. 

“Besides,” he adds. “It’s Christmas Eve. No one’s going to the pool.”

“We are.”

“Because I was coerced by you. I’ve given you too much power.”

You laugh hard at that one. 

The doors open. A small foyer leads to a single door, which unlocks with a swipe of Kazuya’s keycard. He lets you in first. 

Chlorine hits your senses immediately. The air is tepid, warm, but not too hot and not too cold, either.  The pool is not exactly Olympic-sized but it’s much better than the tiny one at your apartment with dead bugs, bits of grass, and dirt on the bottom. This one is pristine, walls painted light blue, lights blurry under the water. Everything is large enough that your voices echo. 

Being up on the thirty-second floor, floor-to-ceiling windows take up the entire left side, offering a view of the western horizon and allowing the sun to shine on you as it makes its way down. This is the tallest building in East Village, so you overlook everyone else, which is good, otherwise those windows might’ve presented a privacy problem. Pool chairs line both sides. A whirlpool tub sits at one end, partially jutting into the flat side of the pool. 

“I can’t believe you pay god-knows-how-much money for this place and don’t even use their pool,” you say, running to claim one of the chairs in front of the window, flip-flops smacking around the ground. The area around the pool is completely dry. Did he really hold this thing the entire day? You suppose it makes sense. Better that than having to kick people out when you came down. 

“You’ve seen my bathtub, tomcat. This is just… extra.”

“You’ve seen my bathtub, tomcat, this is just extra —do you hear yourself right now?” you laugh, dropping your tote bag onto the chair and slipping off your flip-flops. Even the concrete is warm. Not too rough, either. You bend down to pull out the small speaker you’d brought, turning it on and grabbing your phone to find a playlist. Something mellow should do, you think. 

“And!” he interjects, holding up a finger as he drops his bag on the chair next to yours. “It makes my hair tangled.”

“Small price to pay for being rocked to sleep like a baby,” you say, slipping off your loose workout shorts and your t-shirt, leaving you in a pair of lilac spandex shorts and a black high-neck bikini top. 

“Yeah, what’s up with that, anyway?”

“Well, given that you’re a hater, I wouldn’t expect you to understand but in my experience, if you swim around, float around, long enough, afterward, not only are you the good kind of tired, but when you’re in bed, it’s like… rocking on a boat. Rollercoasters are kind of the same, except it’s less rocking and more like… flying. But the good kind.”

“Is the brain damage finally manifesting?”

“You’ll see,” you promise, then turn to launch yourself into the pool. 

Gravity takes you into its clutches. You sink beneath the surface. The world muffles. Warm, leaning on hot, water swaddles you like a baby. You open your eyes for a brief second, indulging for just this one moment since you don’t want your eyes to turn red from the chlorine. Air bubbles sway in front of you. Under the water, the walls are arctic blue, bright and warm.  

You could stay here forever. 

But the reverberation of Kazuya’s voice makes you resurface, wiping a hand over your face. 

You blink up at him, still standing by the pool chairs. “What?”

“I said, if you end in the hospital because you drowned, Hector is going to kill me.”

“He wouldn’t. He swore a whole oath about stuff like that. Very integral to his job. And plus, it’d piss me and my sister off.”

“Which has more weight? The Hippocratic Oath or your combined wrath?”

“Our combined wrath, duh. Stop standing around and get in! The water is sooo nice.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming. Hey, you stay out of the deep end, got it? You’re too short for it. Even while treading. It’s like two of you.”

You splash water at him but he moves out of the way, snickering as he goes around to the stairs. The deepest it goes is eight feet and the shallow end is three and half feet but he’s just being dramatic. You’re in the middle, where the floor slopes down, toes brushing the smooth bottom as you tread. 

You move further toward the shallow end as he steps into the pool. His glasses are off and he’s in a pair of maroon swim trunks and a black t-shirt, which he…

You raise an eyebrow. “You aren’t going to take your shirt off?”

“I’m shy.”

You laugh so hard you have to hold onto the wall to steady yourself, ignoring his affronted Oi! at your reaction. 

Being absurdly tall at six foot one, the water in the shallow end only comes up to his hips, wetting the end of the shirt. 

 “You’re shy? Don’t make me laugh.”

“You already did!”

You laugh again, going over to him and tugging on his arm, the two of you wading in deeper. 

“Didn’t you say you had shared baths at your high school?” you ask, pulling on his shirt. 

“Why are you so eager to get me out of my shirt, huh?” he shoots back, fighting you. Or pretending to. He could push you off if he really wanted to. Mostly, he looks like he’s just trying not to smile. The tips of his ears are suspiciously red. 

“Don’t be embarrassed!” you laugh. 

“I am not!” 

In retaliation, he grabs you, pulling you in then dragging you down with him underwater. 

You both resurface. He pushes his hair back from his face. You grab him again, laughing. He laughs, too. 

You get the shirt off eventually. Then he hits you with it and you pull it on in retaliation. Then you fight a little more. 

“What did I tell you?” he asks, sinking so the water is up to his shoulders, like you. “Too much power.”

“Yeah, but you’re having fun, aren’t you?”

He looks at you for a moment, unbearably attractive with his hair pushed back, shirt off, revealing pale brown skin. 

Then he splashes you. 

You sputter. 

There is no other reason to be here, you think. To have fun. To act like a pair of teenagers. 

But when you tire of that, you both end up floating on your backs, your bodies parallel in opposite directions, heads next to each other. 

A song plays quietly from the speaker. One of your more mellow playlists. 

Down beneath the ashes and the stone Sure of what I've lived and have known I see you so uncomfortably alone I wish I could show you how much you've grown

“How are things with your friends?”you ask, your voice soft. 

“Better… better.”

“Good. I’m glad.”

“They want to meet you, you know.”

Downtown hot spots I used to be on this street I used to be seventeen I used to be seventeen

“No way.”

“I’ve been known to be difficult. They’re surprised you managed to become my friend in such a short period of time.”

The word friend pokes harshly at your heart. Your chest feels heavier, each breath an effort. 

No. This is fine. You said it yourself. This has to be enough. 

“Tomcat?”

“Sorry. You should give yourself more credit. This is a two-way street. I was willing but how could any of it work if you weren’t willing to humor me?”

“I wasn’t humoring you,” he murmurs after a moment of silence. “I’m not. I don’t… not for this stuff.”

“Oh.” You smile. The anvil on your chest lightens. “Have I made you a believer?”

“In the innate goodness of humanity and the fact that our existence is meaningless in the grand scale of the universe but all the more important because of it?”

“Well… it’s not all meaningless. I mean, sure, but… you know how light travels in space?”

“Takes a long time.”

“Really long time. Lot of the stars we see in the night sky, they’re thousands of years old. We’re looking into the past ‘cause it takes that long for light to reach us.”

“So?”

“So…” you smile. “We do the same, too. Humans. Earth. If someone looked at us right now, from however many light-years away, they’d see a moment from our past. The dinosaurs. The advent of civilization. The Sumerians, the Greeks, the Romans. All those people and places and things that are gone… somewhere out there, they’re still alive. Humanity will go on forever. Somewhere, thousands of years from now, someone will see us.”

Kazuya is quiet for a long, long moment. 

“Too much?” you ask eventually. 

“No,” he murmurs. “No. Somehow, you always manage to make it sound… nice.”

“It is nice.”

“Yeah. It is.”

You stay there for a little while longer until the pangs of hunger force you out for a snack. Wrapped in fluffy white towels that are warm as if they just came out of the dryer, you two sit on the ends of the pool chair, eating spam egg onigiri. Something light so as to not spoil dinner, which is supposed to be tsukemen. 

The sun is starting to set by now, already four-thirty. Golden light spills through the windows. 

“Woo, that’s bright.”

“Your eyes still bother you?”

You polish off your onigiri, wiping your fingers on a napkin. “Sometimes. My head, too.”

You look at him to avoid looking outside. As usual, he looks ethereal in the light, but you catch the flash of guilt on his face. You don’t get to say anything before it’s replaced by something else. Amusement. 

“What?”

Kazuya leans forward. Everything inside you freezes. He smells like chlorine and sunscreen and the green tea you’re drinking. The look in his eyes is soft, the set of his mouth fondly amused. His hand comes up to your face. You barely suppress a flinch as his thumb brushes under the corner of your mouth, that one swipe of his finger sending sparks skittering down your spine.

He moves back. You force your eyes away, to his thumb, where a small flake of seaweed lingers. 

“Oh. Thanks.” 

You feel like you might spontaneously combust. Every part of you wants to lunge across this space between you and be held. 

It’s the kind of want that makes you feel small and overexposed, so you look away, back at the skyline, even though it hurts your eyes. 

The two of you wait a little while after eating before making for the pool again. You toss your damp towels into the laundry chute, then shiver. His shirt is coldly damp. He stands and stretches as you walk back over and you avoid looking at the unmistakable muscle there, instead reaching for the hem of his shirt. 

“You’re taking it off?” he asks, a little bit of a whine in his voice. 

“It’s cold!” you whine back. 

Kazuya eyes you, then strides forward, quickly closing the space between you. 

A new song is playing on your speaker. Quiet and calm. 

You don’t have time to focus on it. He grabs you, warm hands on your arms, gentle, and then the both of you are tipping into the water. 

Water swallows you whole. Everything fizzles out. Just you, the silence underneath the surface and —

Kazuya. His hands still on your arms, pulling you down because gravity demands more of him than it does you, and with you two tethered, you have no choice but to go down with him. 

You open your eyes. He’s already looking at you. The look on his face indescribably soft. His t-shirt billows around your body. 

You think, even if you had a choice, you would go, anyway. 

You think you might have a choice, the way your chest balloons with something warm, so light, so free. Gravity loosening on you as you find something else to keep you on this planet, like a string to a kite. 

But everything must end. 

You resurface in the next moment, taking in a breath. He comes up a second later, wiping his face, pushing his hair back. 

“Can I be selfish for a moment?” you ask, your voice almost a whisper, still trying to regain your breath. 

He looks at you. Droplets of water hang on his eyelashes. 

“Be as selfish as you’d like,” he says quietly. 

“You… I mean… I know…”

He floats closer to you. The water comes up to your neck. You balance on the floor on your tippy-toes. 

“Take a breath, tomcat,” he says, laying a warm, heavy hand on your shoulder. 

You do so and you finally hear the song playing quietly from your speaker. 

When I see you look at me I’m not sure of anything All I know is when you smile I believe in everything 

“I know you said you aren’t humoring me. But you’re not… I’m sorry, I don’t mean this badly. You’re not doing this because of… what happened in October, right?”

“Pity, you mean.”

“Yeah.”

“It was never pity. It was… guilt. Obligation. My responsibility.” His hand slides closer to you, until his thumb can brush the skin of your neck. Back and forth. Back and forth. Your pulse flutters underneath the skin. 

“But after that first day, when you were so… relaxed about everything, I was interested. That’s why I came back. I had a good excuse for it, too, but I did feel some responsibility then, too. Then we had that talk on the curb and I… wanted to stick around to see how things unfold.”

Do you know how I dream? How I dream about you? Do you know how I feel? Do you know?

“Oh…”

His other hand comes up to your left temple, fingers settling into his hair, not moving, just shallowly sinking in, while his thumb brushes over your temple. Where your bruise was once. Where your fracture has now healed. 

He’s never handled you like this. Not so gently, not so…

Tenderly. 

“I’m not here because I’m obligated to be here. Or because I pity you.”

“No?”

He says your name, your name, not tomcat, not Tee, not anything else.

“I’m here because I want to be here.”

Your breath catches. He doesn’t mean…

Kazuya moves closer, smiling now, something soft and tender just for your eyes. For gravity. For the warm water lapping at you. And in a thousand years from now, for whoever looks back and sees this moment. 

“I thought about how this could go for a while. A younger me would’ve gladly set fire to this at the first hint of feelings, even if it meant he got burned, too. But now… I can’t do that to you.”

“Kazuya…” you whisper, heart pounding. 

“But more truthfully,” he shakes his head slightly, “I’m selfish. I don’t want to lose you. In any capacity. You don’t even have to say anything. I don’t expect you… I don’t expect anything. I just… you have to know. You taught me that. That I need to say these things. I’m here… because I want to be here, because… because I don’t want anyone else.”

A shade of hesitation passes in his eyes before he pulls experimentally on you. You understand and sink easily into his embrace. Warm. So warm. Everything inside you is singing. But your voice is frozen. 

This feels like a fever dream. Like maybe you did drown during that first jump. Or maybe you’re in a coma at the hospital, still suffering from the home-run. Nothing feels real. Yet, at the same time, it feels too real. Warm water lapping at your bodies. His heart pounding under your cheek. He smells like chlorine. 

“You don’t have to say anything,” he says again, voice vibrating under your ear. “I just… we can still be friends, right? I’ll take you however I can. I swear.”

Your voice doesn’t work. 

You nod. 

He holds you for a long time. 

“Who’s Robin right now?” The question drifts to you from the living room. 

You lean down to spit out your toothpaste. “Tim. Jason hasn’t been brought back yet. Or, actually, I think he is alive by this point but still catatonic. Probably with Talia. Love her.”

“She’s —”

“Damian’s mother.”

“Right. Only biological son of Batman.”

“Mmhm.”

Everything was weird when you two came back earlier.

So, so weird. 

Mostly because of you. 

Because you were kicking and screaming inside yourself, wondering why the hell you didn’t tell him you think the world of him, too. 

Well. You know why. 

How could you have ever expected that?

In what universe does this happen? To you?

Now, listen, it’s not a self-deprecation thing. You’re a catch! You know you are! But it’s just… it seemed like something you could only ever dream about. Something you could only make playlists for, full of achingly earnest love songs and a few well-placed sad love songs, too. 

It took you off guard. You never expected him to say something, even if he did have feelings. You thought you would. If you had the inkling he felt the same. And his behavior did raise a few of those flags but how could you be certain? How could you potentially ruin this?

You and he are two sides of the same coin on that front. 

You don’t have to say anything. I just… we can still be friends, right? I’ll take you however I can. I swear. 

Your insides lurch. You hold onto the sink, palm pressed to your face. 

You’re so stupid. 

He showered first when you got back, that way he could start on dinner while you went after. 

It was a peculiar kind of hell, to step inside his bathroom, heat still hanging heavy, the spicy and sweet scent of his shampoo coating the insides of your lungs. 

You had to pull yourself together after that. 

You need to regroup and think all of this through. 

So, things got better after that. Even if it’s hard to look at him. True to his word, he isn’t doing anything stranger than usual but you know. 

The words, the knowledge of his feelings, it’s been spoken. It’s there, heavy between you two. 

Selfishly, you think it would be easier if you didn’t feel anything. 

But you do.

You step out of the bathroom. The lights are off except for a lamp. The futons are spread out in front of the small dining table between the living room and the kitchen, in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows and the glass door to the balcony. He lays on his stomach on the one closest to the door, the thick omnibus held in his hands. 

“Where exactly is Gotham supposed to be?”

“New Jersey.”

“Yeah. That checks out.”

You smile, ignoring the anvil on your chest, and drop onto your futon, two feet away from his. You pick up your book on Shohei Ohtani. You want to reread it now that you have a better grasp on the complicated jargon they were using. Though it’s still hard to apply your knowledge. 

Your eyes scan the lines. Nothing registers. You flip the pages, anyway. 

“Hmm.” The thoughtful hum brings you eyes up. Kazuya is squinting at the pages. 

“What?”

“So… the city had a massive earthquake.”

“Yes.”

“And… instead of continuing rescue efforts, the government…”

“Declares Gotham City ‘no man’s land.’ So, not part of the US anymore. On its own. Bridges leading out are blown, they put mines in the rivers so people can’t escape, then they have the military guarding any remaining entrances in and out.”

“Yeah. I can see that. You know, I’m not the most ethical guy but… that seems a little…”

“Fucked up?” you ask, grinning. This is better. Easier. Familiar. You are passionate about this particular arc. No Man’s Land is an excellent event. One of DC’s best. But you hardly mind a critical angle. 

You have many thoughts on Gotham and its perception in the comics, particularly No Man’s Land. 

He flips a page. “Pretty much.”

“I don’t disagree. Truthfully, I can totally believe the government would do something like that if it were a little more blatantly evil. But you know what I don’t believe?”

“What?”

“That when they did this, people were fine with it. I mean, they even try to say that polls of the people wanted it but… come on! That’s like if they cut off… Chicago! Or Detroit! A ‘bad city.’” You put air-quotes around that. He snorts. 

“No one would take that. Not to mention, it’s kind of glaringly obvious who’s been left behind. And then when things get bad, it’s not some kind of gotcha, either. I’m not sure what any of them are expecting since Arkham — you know, the guy in charge of the prison for the ‘criminally insane’ — let all of the rogues out, including the Joker, and then of course, the gangs stay because other people are staying, too — well, the ones who can’t even leave. It’s literally like closing the zoo but leaving all the enclosures open and being surprised when you come back to find chaos. What are any of them expecting to happen? Oracle says it’s proof of the natural state of human being. It’s not true. That’s just what happens when your government is negligent.”

“That… is fair,” he concedes. “But what are all these air-quotes about?”

“First air-quotes — self-explanatory. Negligent government and screwed up system. Second set, around the whole criminally insane thing?”

“It is Joker.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, but… sure, some people will say he’s, like, a ‘psychopath,’ ‘sociopath,’ whatever. But I think you can have horrible people like the Joker and they’re just like that for no reason other than —” you spread your palms “— they’re assholes. No other rhyme or reason. It’s been touched on, anyway, that the Joker wants people to think he’s ‘insane’ as a cover or whatever.”

He looks back to the omnibus. “Huh.”

“It’s still a good read, though,” you say, yawning. “Even if I disagree with some of it. One of the best. These days, it’s all just — bleh.”

“Is it that bad?”

“Just weird. Characterization is suffering. Half of these writers don’t want to put in the work to study canon. And I get it, there are, like, multiple canons, but come on! Consistency! Continuity!”

“Who knew you were actually such a hater?”

“I am a proud hater! It’s good to be critical! I love to be critical! I can be multiple things at once,” you say, pouting.  

The look on his face is fond. Achingly so. You flop onto your back to avoid it. 

“It’s not all bad, I guess,” you continue, praying for your heart to calm down. “They made Tim bi. Though, to be honest, if anyone should’ve been made bi, it’s definitely Dick. I say this as the Dick Grayson in my relationship with Jerry.”

“Am I supposed to understand this reference?”

You grin up at the ceiling. “I say he’s the Donna Troy to my Dick Grayson. Donna Troy is Dick’s best friend. Soulmate, really.”

“Cute,��� he says, sarcasm heavy. A little jealous, maybe, but you shove the thought into a box as soon as it comes. 

“Platonic soulmate,” you say pointedly, though you should just leave it. “Anyway. Back to the point. Tim is still good. Pissed a lot of homophobes off.” 

You let out a yawn, then wiggle back onto your futon. 

“I’ll turn out the light.”

“If you want to keep reading, you can.”

“No… no, I’m starting to think I just prefer to hear you explain these things.”

Your face warms. You can’t say anything. 

He quickly continues. “Plus, the format is a little confusing. With the bubbles and the panels.”

“Right. Yeah.”

“Yeah.” 

The deflection is meaningless because you know he means it. He should find you… a little interesting at best, annoying at worst. But no, he’s… It’s like when you hear him talk about baseball. You’ll talk about it all day if it’s him. He’s so passionate about it. 

You realize with a bolt of lightning down your spine it’s the exact same for him with you and comics. 

It should be a warm realization. One that makes you happy. But as the light shuts off, plunging you two into darkness, the space illuminated only from the moon outside, something inside you aches. 

You crawl under the covers and he does the same. 

Slowly, as your body relaxes, sleep lapping at your senses, you start to feel it. 

The swaying. 

Back and forth. Back and forth. Like you’re still in the pool. 

“Do you feel it?” you ask, voice hushed, eyelids growing heavier with each second that passes. 

“Yeah,” comes Kazuya’s sleepy response. “I feel it.”

Well, you made your point. 

But at what cost? 

[Night Owl Transcript — 21:09 — 12/26/2023]

Tee: You know, it’s just… one of those days, guys. Think all the excitement from these last few months is catching up to me. We’ll start slow. But it’s nothing to worry about. We’ll, uh, be back in tip-top shape by next year. [Pause] Yes, I know next year is next week.

[Nothing But Thieves’ “Real Love Song” plays] And this is a sad song, so sad Aching like it’s more than I can take sad I cried so hard I died sad Losing all that’s making me human inside sad

Can I sing this to you? Got a thing about you And it won’t go away No, it won’t go away It won’t go away

This is a love song, so what? Did it slide into your heart? I guess not I still want your love a whole lot Have you heard a better song? Oh, I hope not

[Night Owl Transcript — 20:30 — 1/2/2023]

[Off-air recording starts] Mouser: We didn’t do much for new years. You know how Nana is. Just slept in. You? Did you, uh, spend time with Miyuki? Tee: Huh? Oh. Oh, yeah, we… we really just watched TV. Some House. You know.  Mouser: Right… have you been getting any sleep? ‘Cause, Tee, you look — Tee: Thank you, Jerry.  Mouser: Did something happen? Tee: …Everything’s fine, bud. Let’s just… I’m just gonna do some puzzles, ‘kay?

[Ayoni’s “If You Leave” plays] Tell me you love me before you go Don’t you know I love you? I love you, don’t leave me, baby Tell me you need me Before you leave Can’t you see? This kills me (If you leave, if you leave)

Don’t make me beg I am despondent If you leave me, I might die Shed my old skin, embrace the fire Cry down hoover, room stands still Said, if you leave me, die on that hill If you leave me, don’t look back

“I know you don’t like it when people make assumptions based on the songs you play but… this is a little concerning, don’t you think?”

Your sister is fresh-faced and glowing from the trip to Europe. Meanwhile it’s barely the first week of January and you feel so…

“I mean… heartbreak pop. It’s not like you.”

Oh, but it is like you. In this moment, right now, you feel like exactly that. 

And who’s fault is it?

Your own. 

You shouldn’t be like this. You and Kazuya still hang out. Of course you do. You’re… you’re supposed to be friends. 

But everything is different. 

Your wildest dreams are in reach. 

Were in reach. 

Things have gone on this long. Do you have any right to go to him and say you do want to be with him? That you panicked? He doesn’t deserve that.

“Do you see what I mean?”

You think your sister is talking to you, initially, but when you raise your head from your mass of blankets on your shitty threadbare couch, you see her next to the tank, directing her words to Batman and Robin. 

You scowl and sink back into your cocoon. “Everything is under control.”

“Not really what I’m asking, is it?”

Your door opens. Hector hobbles in with armfuls of groceries. 

“Nine dollars for a dozen eggs! What kind of world are we living in?” he admonishes, dropping everything onto your tiny dining table. 

“Hector,” your sister sighs. “Your sister in law is in love with Miyuki Kazuya.”

You groan. Hector’s head whips to you, eyes wide. 

“He gave you a concussion!”

“That was an accident!” 

“Do you hear yourself right now?”

“It doesn’t matter!” your sister interjects. “It was always going to happen. Anyone could see that.”

“Hello?!”

Hector grunts. “Suppose that is true.”

“What.”

Your sister points at you, impassioned. “I would bet all our money that he feels the same.”

You glower at her. “He does. Where’s my money.”

Hector groans. 

Your sister huffs. “Relax, it was just a joke —”

“Hey!” you protest.

“Your boyfriend is a millionaire!”

“He is not my boyfriend!”

“He likes you back?” Hector admonishes. “We’re going to be family now? Babe, I’m not mad about the money. I’m mad about that!”

“Die mad about it!” she snaps. “Don’t you think she deserves a little happiness, too?”

“I mean, she was pretty happy beforehand —”

“You know what I mean! And if that’s the case,” she looks at you, lips pursed. “What’s with the heartbreak pop? And why isn’t he your boyfriend?”

“Because I didn’t say anything.”

Your apartment falls silent. Behind your sister, Batman and Robin’s tank glugs quietly. Robin swishes through the holes of his hollow tree trunk. Batman vibes on a nearby branch. You wish you could be as zen as him. 

“Why not?” your sister eventually asks, voice gentle. 

You shrug miserably. “Didn’t think he’d ever feel the same.”

“But he does,” Hector says, brown eyes softer now. “Doesn’t that mean something?”

“It should. But… I didn’t say anything. It was… he took me off guard. How can I say something now when this happened almost two weeks ago and we agreed to just be friends? That that was all he wanted… if anything else…”

A look of grudging respect crosses Hector’s face. 

“Hnh. Guess he’s not all bad.”

“Hector.”

He sighs, tilting his face to the ceiling. Your water-stained popcorn ceiling that you’ve become familiar with over the last week since sleep evades you. Since you evade sleep, too. Treacherous with her visions of a future you don’t think you have a right to anymore. 

Your sister sits beside you on the couch. She smells like jasmine. Her hands are soft as she takes yours. Hector joins you on your other side. He smells like sandalwood. It clears your head.  

“What’s stopping you now?”

“I should’ve said something then. Not now.”

“Who cares about should haves?” Hector asks. “The Tee I know doesn’t.”

“I’ve never had something this important to me like that. I can’t… it’s not…”

“If not for you, then for him,” your sister says softly. “He should know, don’t you think? He should know someone loves him.”

“He has his friends.”

“You’re you and they’re them. I’m sure he does have their love. But he’d want yours, too.”

“He’s going to leave soon. For spring training.”

“All the more important to say something, then.”

Hector nudges you. “You almost died last year. These kinda things — they can’t wait. They don't wait. It’s not fair to him and not fair to you.”

You put your face in your hands. “I hate when you guys tag-team me!”

“We rarely do,” Hector says, affronted. “Your sister always takes your side.”

“Well, she’s my sister. I’ll always have her.”

“And me?”

“Oh, stop it. It’s the same with you and your brothers.”

Quiet for a moment before he says, “That is true.”

Your sister hugs you. “Just think about it.”

Hector drops a rough kiss on your head. “Yeah. But just so you know, he will be getting the shovel talk.”

You groan. 

“Now you’re speaking my language, Dr. Peña,” your sister says, coy. 

“Don’t you guys have your own house?”

[Night Owl Transcript — 23:31 — 1/6/2023]

[Fall Out Boy’s “So Much (For) Stardust” plays] In another life, you were my babe In another life, you were the sunshine of my lifetime What would you trade for the pain? I’m not sure

And look! look! look! I think those little fish better wake up and dash themselves away from the hopeless future that is bulging toward them.

And probably, if they don’t waste time looking for an easier world,

they can do it.

[panics-side-blog]

New cycle

Part:1 (??)

Small edit: decide to update the story once a month about mid-end of the month to be exact. Maybe i will sprinkle 2 chapters per month as a treat if i feel like it :)

I really really tried to not do a fanfic because I'm terrible at finishing shit i started. But damn bro i want some slow burn-ish comfort-ish fanfic where reader is autistic coded and them pulling a bad bitch (Soundwave and maybe shockwave) by being autistic.

Bc like, there are no fics i found who have an autistic coded reader?? And that's a fucking crime. Especially when their with the king of autism,Soundwave, who clearly got some sort of Cybertronian Version of it. /hj

This story is probably going to be darker. Dealing with mental health issues and unhealthy obsession(??). Maybe gonna have some smut later on but idk

I will try to not make the reader x Soundwave Stockholm syndrome-y because i want a happy consensual relationship. I still try to figure out how i will make it from here to there but, eh we will see, i have a plan just don't know how to execute it right.

I procrastinate a lot so i don't even know how far I will go. No promises!

Also like i am really insecure about my writing because i know i tend to write sloppy sentences that derail a lot but i hope you all still can enjoy it :))

reader is gender neutral ❤️ (and human)

Tw for this chapter: clear signs of mental health issues, trauma flashback, mention of puke and eating disorder (not related) Panic attack/ autistic meltdown and blacking out.

Also English is not my first language so please keep it in mind. Thank you :))

Today was the day you told yourself, "Today I will go outside," you said, yet you have been standing in front of the door of the hallway for almost two hours. Your shoes and socks feel like they have creeped into your skin, the t-shirt you wore feels itchy and heavy, and your hair that slipped into your collar makes you almost lose your mind.

The sun that shone inside your dark room was slowly going down, a slight red and pink already weaving itself into the sky. But there were still a lot of people outside; you could hear them talking even though your windows were sealed shut.

Everything around you appears to be too much: the way you can hear your own pulse in your ears; the way your bones feel inside your gross, soft, meaty body;the lingering smell of the food you cooked two days ago; and your eyes strained from the light.

You felt like crying. Yet again, you didn't go outside. Yet again, your fear  whatever imaginary threat might be waiting for you in the overstimulation of the outer world. It was just too much for you, to the point that the thought alone almost made you have a meltdown.

But you promised yourself to go outside, at least to the ice cream shop a few blocks away. You heard the ice cream they had was really good, so you wanted to take a look. It's not that far away, you think to yourself, about a 15-minute walk. But these few minutes were still too much. Hell, that you even stood in front of the hallway door was a miracle all by itself. Hot tears begin to form and roll down your cheeks. How long have you been isolating yourself now? Almost a whole year, a whole year with barely any human interaction, a whole year you almost slept through, a whole year of nothing. Just your white fall and the music coming from your headphones. Your body, with its physical needs, feels at this point more like a burden than anything else.

It's not the first time this has happened, and it makes you feel like shit. You are wasting your life in your home, which has become more of a prison, but this prison is the only thing that feels somewhat safe. A place that makes you feel in control, where nothing changes without your permission. It's the only thing that gives you a tiny bit of comfort.

" It's alright, you're doing great! Don't be so hard on yourself! "

The voice of a past friend echoed inside your brain. But even those motivating words of affirmation they always spoke out didn't help you. You still feel like a failure. You don't have a job; you live off of your guardian's money and have lost all contact with the few friends you have. You didn't finish high school due to massive stress and mental health issues. Hell, you didn't even manage to make friends after losing your older one, or even talk to your neighbor next door once. They probably think you died here. It doesn't help that you leave the dirty dishes to soak for weeks because you don't have enough energy to clean them up. So it sometimes smells like a rat died in there.

What you would rather do is sleep some more. At least your dreams give you a beautiful world full of adventures where everything is right and you do not need to fear anything. where everything is perfect and you don't have to worry about a thing. Living in a small cottage somewhere far away but still close enough to your imaginary friends. With a pretty garden and colorful birds greeting you every morning, while big,strong,warm arms are wrapped protectively around you by your dream lover. But every time you wake up, you get an ugly reminder of how grey and full of disappointment your life is.

Another hour has passed, and the ice cream shop is most likely closed now. Only the small market that is a bit further away should still be open. They too got some good snacks, but honestly, even food can't motivate you anymore. You're so aware of how it feels on your tongue and slides down your throat that just thinking about it makes you gag. The presence of it already makes you feel ill and icky. You wish you didn't have to drink or eat, but you know it's not good.

Oh, you know so much, yet you do the exact opposite of what said knowledge actually tells you.

The sun has almost vanished at this point. Most people are inside, the street lights are on, and only the sounds of the few leaves that are still on the trees can be heard. You would go out now if you weren't terribly scared of the dark. But as your brain made you imagine how the cool winter night would taste on the tip of your tongue, you couldn't resist anymore. Especially with the way the snow makes this funny, crisp noise. Your hand takes the door handle and slowly moves it down. You take your first step and the cool air already strikes your face with such an intensity you haven't felt in ages.

It made you remember those days when you were a child and you ran around for hours making snow angels.

The steps under your feet made a satisfying crunching noise, and you had to control yourself to not flap your hands around in excitement. Carefully, you close the door and lock it. You look up as you walk further down the street, not having a destination, or rather forgetting it, the gorgeous night sky making you forget your worries. How clear it was and how bright the stars shone. And not a person around to ruin this moment. The sudden feeling of long-lost childhood memories crashing into your brain caused you to make tiny bunny hops, excitedly giggling.

A flashback at this moment in time was one of the last things you wanted right now, but yet, you zoned out.

Memories flooded your mind; some were pleasant, but others quickly turned bitter as they became contaminated with other things. Everything around you is barely existent anymore. You only have in front of your eyes how you cried out as a small child, freezing, calling out for your parents but nobody answering. Sniffling, rubbing your tiny red hands together in hopes of getting warm; clothes way too thin and soaking wet because you walked over some ice that couldn't hold your weight.

You were so deep in thought you didn't hear how an aircraft came dangerously close to you or how the rumbling of a semi truck came speeding towards your frozen form.

You got ripped out of your thoughts, which also happened to your body, as something grabbed you from the sidewalk. Everything happened so fast. Your brain  trying to process whatever just happened, coming back from whatever deep dark depths it stayed in.

Your vision is too blurry due to tears that formed without your realization.

You only hear loud screeching and rumbling from an engine. A deep voice that made your very core shake called out, but you couldn't make out what it said. Your wide eyes looked up to see what was holding you.

The tears were rubbed away by the sleeves to make it clearer. You couldn't believe what you saw; a man made out of metal who had a few body parts that reminded you of a heavy and big truck. And close to them was another humanoid machine with wings. It all looked like a bad action movie.

The loud crashing noises of metal trashing against each other hurt your brain; their echo lingers way too long for comfort. How do the people from your small town not get alerted by all the noise?

You heard another strange noise near by, and then a blue, much smaller mech joined in. They jump up high, kicking whatever live form that was in front of you on the head, knocking it down. It tried to stand back up, but the blue machine gave it a brutal beat down, scratching its purple paint clean off of its chest.

But the sudden fight stopped without warning.

The bigger one who held you is running away and making this strange noise you heard earlier. Everything around you began to shake, and you blacked out for a second. You wish you could remember exactly what happened, but the way you hit metal with your head was too strong. The holes filling your memory spread like a plague, and the longer you try to think about it, the more it vanishes, like some type of maggot devouring it like it's their last meal.

But you soon come fully into your senses. As you realized your surroundings didn't look familiar, you panicked, opening your mouth trying to scream, but nothing came out.

"Ti--ou-t,"

A voice called out, but your ears were still ringing loudly due to the collision earlier.

"What?" you whisper back to whatever voice was trying to free you from your fearful frenzy. As you move nervously around trying to open the door,

"Tiny-uman-ou-ar-ight,"

You look at the steering wheel in confusion. What is happening? This can't be real! Where does the voice come from? Oh, please let this be a bad dream! I knew I should've stayed inside!! The thought of just taking this magically moving steering wheel came to mind as the pulling on the door became more intense. But, you can't drive, so your cramped up fingers didn't even dare to touch it.

"Are you okay, tiny human?"

The voice, finally now clear, was deep and smooth, like thick honey. It would have been comforting in any other scenario.

You want to ask who is there and what they are, but your body fails you. After an awkward silence, the voice spoke again.

"You are probably very confused and scared. My apologies to humans. My name is Optimus Prime, and we "

"Optimus? I-,,, are-,,,is-? truck?"

You clumsily said,

"Indeed, as I wanted to explain, we saved you from an attack by the Desepticons. My partner Arcee is still fighting off their Vehicon in order for us to escape safely. "

You just looked in disbelief at the speaking machine. At least, that's what you believe based on Optimus' reaction.

"I'm deeply sorry for this situation, but I can assure you that you are safe now and have nothing to fear. Me and my team will take you under our protection. "

" Can I-can I go home then? I'm sure whatever attacked is surely gone, right? "

You say, with a nervous smile, sweat building up on your forehead, your body all of a sudden feeling very hot.

" For whatever reason yet to be explained, the Desepticons found out where you live, and for whatever reason yet to be explained, they are fixated on you. That's why they tried to kidnap you."

"Kidnap!! No, this can't be happening. Surely you're just joking. Surely this is all just a terrific nightmare! "

You feel as if your heart has sunk to the bottom of the earth. Breathing has become more erratic.

" I'm sorry, tiny human, but it isn't. In order to insure your safety, you have to stay with us until we find another safe hideout for you. "

You just stayed silent and leaned back into the seat, still not believing what had just occurred. You looked outside; nothing but rocks and hills, going further and further away from your home. It's dark and the big sky now feels not as pretty and comforting as before. The wide and empty steppe made you feel tiny and vulnerable.

Bright lights appeared from your side of the window. A blue bike without a driver soon joined in.

"Are they all right, Optimus?"

They asked, their voices soft yet stern and serious.

"Yes, but they seem to be under shock. I already did an intercom with Ratchet to check their vitals".

You sobbed quietly, not wanting them to hear you. Hands flexing and soon balling into fists hit your thighs gently, desperately trying to regulate your emotions. But you can feel how a panic attack and meltdown crawl up your rips, holding your heart with its disgustingly cold, frost-bitten giving hands. It is clawing at it like some sort of toy that it wants to break. And soon, this toy popped.

Your head is spinning, your breathing has no rhythm, and the bit of food you had is coming back up with some stomach acid. No, this is something you can't get out of. The more gentle-ish hitting became violent. Your body begins to sway back and forth. You started to claw at your jacket, trying to rip it away from your body. Everything feels way too hot and sticky. Your nails are digging into your skin, giving it an ugly red line. Tears and snot form. Puke spills little by little from your lips as the erratic movements become violent.

Until your brain couldn't handle it anymore and pulled the plug. Your body thumped itself one more time against the leather seat. Your hands were hitting your head and clawing at your hair for the last time, until everything went black.

You hate the feeling of falling unconscious; it's weirdly light, like when you sit on an airplane and it starts to fly off, just instead of it flying straight up, it goes in circles.

You desperately want to wake up in your cozy bed, with your headphones next to you, playing your comfort playlist to help you fall asleep. But it won't. Something inside of you knows that nothing will be the same. A part of you is happy that this disfigured devil cycle has been broken; another is very, very scared. You are uncertain about your wellbeing and do not know what will come next for you.

And having to hide from whatever those things are, those ginormous, sentient metal beings who, for whatever reason, have it out for you?

What did you even do that peaked their interest? Did you make them angry? You'd hoped not.

[sumrot]

You can’t make this go away. You can’t put it into your brain like a trash compactor and have it come out different and compressed. you need to go to therapy, go to yoga, create routine and balance in your life. Read more. Reach out to your friends. Wake up at the same time everyday. Be kind as best you can, try not to speak poorly about people behind their backs. Volunteer at a food bank. Donate blood. Go for a run. Bake a cake. Make a painting. I promise you you cannot dissect or rearrange or fix this. You (and I) need to fill up our lives with everything else and force the dysmorphia into the smallest corner of our brains. So these thoughts can pop up and we can acknowledge that they are there but that they won’t control us and our emotions and our day and our lives. Look up the psychology of routine. I love you. So many of us feel this way and we won’t feel this way forever. I’ve made so much progress by trying to expand my life and I promise you will too. Get a cool tattoo. Get a piercing get an edgy haircut. Express who you are. Things you can control. I swear the prettiest people are the most fucking boring and basic Bitches. I’m ugly but I’m cool and different and interesting. Let the Victoria’s Secret angels have the appeal of sex. I’d rather have something that’s not going to go away in 15 years. We’re so much more than that. Even if you can’t believe it right now. (Look up Anna karina young and now) Beauty is fucking fleeting and the prettiest people end up the ugliest

You have me in the second half, so thank you for that. As for the first half though, I've done nothing but work on myself for the past couple of years. It has been like running around with my head chopped off. This self-love rhetoric that's circulating has done absolutely nothing for me, except waste tons of my time and money. Maybe it works for other people, or most people. Speaking from experience though, I'm exhausted.