#your writing is lovely and I hate to leave questions unanswered

[laurasimonsdaughter]

To the anon who sent the Magisowo question from the Scared Ogre Mother: I'm really sorry but I don't know how to answer such a serious question in a fun urban fantasy way, I hope you don't mind <3

[bakugoushotwife]

in my opinion, gojo’s storyline has been handled so so poorly i can’t help but think it’s intentional. it is not bad writing to kill a character—even a beloved character. i know most people will dismiss my criticisms because gojo is so beloved to me and so many others. i’ve said before that i don’t mind if he died. does it hurt? of course, and i would still cry and be sad about it. but there is a beautiful way to do it. with respect and honor for his legacy—for what he has done for your manga, the characters in it, and audiences worldwide. but no…gege chose the path of horror and disrespect. at certain points i’d say to myself, well. this is a dark manga. but essentially gojo is the only character that receives this treatment. since the beginning—since suguru left him, he’s been wondering if he mattered because he was a person, or if he only mattered because he was powerful and useable. we certainly fucking answered that question. he is a weapon and nobody ever cared about him at all!!!

and we knew he was being used—he knew he was being used, but he is selfless. so he did it for his kids. for megumi and yuuji and yuuta—he wanted them to be safe. in these flashbacks it’s exceedingly clear that he knew he would die. again—that’s not my issue. gojo dying to sukuna makes plenty of sense and it would hurt to leave it there. but to give us an afterlife scene where he’s presented a choice—north and south—that concept lead nowhere, that’s truly fucked up. to leave all the subtle clues and hints for no reason but to keep people reading and theorizing his return is fucked up. to continue to use his imagery to promote your manga when you know he’s not even honored in your manga is fucked up. we don’t get a funeral or a grave for him. no one’s spoken about him in chapters despite him fighting for hours against sukuna and damaging him so much that yuuji could win, nothing. yuuta wearing him like a costume and no one is horrified about it. i thought his students WERE different. they weren’t jujutsu society yet. that’s why gojo was their teacher—shaping them into better human beings. how am i supposed to trust in their future when it seems they’re just as cold and heartless as everyone before them? no one has honored gojo in any way since the moment he died. and they’ve forgotten about him. he spent his entire life fighting and no one can even say thank you. gege intentionally used gojo to promote the end of his manga because he knows that gojo fans make up at least half of his fanbase so had we stopped reading when he died, he would have lost a lot of traction. he baited us intentionally, cruelly, and something that transcends storytelling. i’ve truly never seen a mangaka have this sort of vitriol for one of their characters and the people that love him.

we spent the entire last chapter talking about some random fucking mission when we have several unanswered questions and concerns. i thought gege said he wanted this ending to be shocking and something you didn’t see in shonen? tying everything up neatly where no one has any trauma or grief for what they’ve experienced, everyone comes back to life except the one character you hate specifically and choso, defying your own power structures and having everyone laughing into the sunset is exactly how shonen ends so what in the fuck is he talking about??

let me disclaim, this is not megumi hate at all. i love him very much and i am so happy he’s back with the group but like. he shouldn’t be able to even walk. he tanked unlimited void for over 6 minutes whenever that length caused irreversible damage to sukuna himself. not to mention the countless black flashes. so what the fuck? he doesn’t mention gojo at all?? the first time he laughs in this manga is after he reads a note written by his dead fucking caretaker about his dead fucking father? like i don’t believe. random open ended kenjaku/suguru mention just to piss me off, an absolutely no mention of gojos sacrifice or how they’ll miss him. i’m sick to my stomach. gege defiled his memory both in the story and outside of it. wow.

P.S. SUKUNA CARED MORE ABOUT GOJO THAN ANYONE ELSE (SUGURU IS NOT INCLUDED IN THIS I MEAN HIS STUDENTS AND SOCIETY)

[theprettyarachnid]

wrong!logan seeing you again

a/n: i saw @imamotherfuckingstar-lord write something like this and i wanted to do my take on it but you all should totally read their logan works

warnings: angst

🕷️ he can barely look at you because whenever he does, he only sees your lifeless body in his arms

🕷️ you try and be friendly but you only get grunts and curt answers

🕷️ his rudeness doesn’t seem to faze you and he hates it, he hates that you’re still nice to him even though he’s told you to take a hike so many times

🕷️ it bothers him that you look practically identical to the you in his universe, it drives him mad

🕷️ your laugh, your smile, the sparkle in your eyes when you talk about something you’re passionate about

🕷️ he almost despises you for it because you aren’t his version of you, you’re wade’s version

🕷️ he doesn’t know if you like the same things, if you still have the same birth marks across your body, if your favorite flavor of ice cream is the same

🕷️ he knows nothing and a part of him doesn’t want to know

🕷️ he wants to keep his version of you, the one he loves and the one who loved him back

🕷️ yet the more time passes, the more his resolve cracks

🕷️ he catches himself smiling at you when you aren’t looking, you’ve caught him a few times which his response is to look away and frown

🕷️ he knows laura has told you about this universe’s logan but he’s not that, not even close

🕷️ ever since she told you that, you look at him in a new light and he hates it

🕷️ he’s not a hero like this logan was, he’s a drunk and a coward. a failure.

🕷️ logan knew it was coming but he didn’t know when you’d ask the dreaded question

🕷️ “what was your universe like?”

🕷️ all of a sudden logan didn’t see the girl who was alive and sitting in front of him, he saw your lifeless body

🕷️ a husk of what you were, covered in blood and the only thing that cleaned it up was the tear stains that were already dry

🕷️ he didn’t know how to react to the question so he did what he knew best, he told you to fuck off before getting up and leaving you with an unanswered question

[zooone]

as above, so below

╰┈➤ a grumpy grim reaper falls in love with an optimistic angel.

one sided hatred to lovers; grim reaper!wilbur x angel!reader

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 - here it is, my magnum opus. even tho its not done! i had to split this fic in half, so unfortunately there will have to be a part two :( very sorry. but on a lighter note, HUGE HUGEEE thank you to @harbingerofheartbreak. as per usual, she helped me visualized the entire thing and even made some of the plots and ideas that i used. in fact, the original fic was supposed to be a grim reaper x human, but it was florence who thought of the grim reaper x angel prompt and i could not thank her enough. furthermore, she helped keep this fic going and constantly pushed me beyond my limits to do so. the fic was started july 21st and it was supposed to be shelved after a couple weeks, but she made me keep going. she is the best forever and ever go read ynaf. additionally, another big thanks to @starsyoubreaklikesugardust for being another little beta reader for this fic. she always has the greatest ideas known to man and i wanted to run everything by her bcuz it was like having van gogh rate my painting. i had to share this with her earlier than i thought cuz she was threatening me but we dont have to talk about that smile. both of these people helped me so much, and i will forever be in debt to them.

all in all, please please enjoy and give this your love pretty please &lt;3

hi! message from about a year later (since i still get notes from this) but i do not support wilbur soot at all, and do not write for him anymore. so part two of this fic is discontinued. :( thank u for all the luv from this fic

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - talk of death, religious aspects, and swearing

she had a lot of questions about wilbur.

not the type of, "what's your favorite color?" or "what's your favorite band?" questions. more like, "on a scale of one to ten, how much does being a murderer really affect your mood?"

all of these questions would go unanswered. including "what's your favorite band?" no matter what, she just could not crack the code of wilbur soot.

to say he was intricate would be an understatement, and her ongoing curiosity would surely be the death of her.

unless he had something to do about it.

-

he stomped away from her on the rooftop as she followed after him.

"i told you to leave me alone," wilbur grunted, trying to speed walk past her with his long scythe trailing behind him. "is that so difficult to understand?"

"i just- i just wanna talk-" she panted, trying to catch up to him. her white dress flowed beneath her, but wilbur tried not to think about it too much.

"no." he made a sharp turn to fully face her, making her nearly bump into him.

her frown was illuminated by her golden halo, making her hair look almost cloud-like. her eyes glimmered like the entire sun was like a clown nose on her face, despite them arguing in the cold of night.

she pouted, crossing her arms over her chest. her halo also lit his face up, and she saw the permanent frown and scrunched up eyebrows under his dark hood.

"why not, wilbur?"

he looked at her like she asked if the moon was real.

"you ruined my job. again." he punctuated his sentence with her name, saying it like he was curling at the nasty taste of it.

he always hated her. there was no mistaking it. he hated the way she giggled and danced around just because she could. he hated the way she spoke, always sounding so bright and happy and fucking naive. he hated her big white wings and her shiny halo.

"there you go talking about your job! like its all that matters to you," she yelled over the continuous honking cars beneath them. "do you even care about anything else in life?"

they weren't even supposed to interact, her being an angel and him being the prince of death. but he was always out doing his grim reaper duties, and she couldn't help but stop him.

he just wanted to follow orders from mumza- the queen of death. every single day that he existed, he had to take the lives of those who were ready. it ate him alive, but it was his only purpose.

"i can't care about everything else in life if i have to care about everything else in death," he grumbled under his breath, making her go silent. he liked her silence, loved it even, because that meant she couldn't criticize him for everything he did.

he would tell her about how angry the job made him. that if he could just switch spots with his brother, the stork, he would be the happiest being in hell. that he hated being the grim reaper almost as much as she hated him.

but if there was anything he really hated, it was opening up to people. and vice versa.

the last time he remotely opened up to someone, it was his mother, and he barely remembered the conversation. it was all the way back when he was welcome to smile. all he could recall was it being something about love, whatever it meant.

"will you please leave me alone now?" he sighed, rubbing his hand in his eye. he watched her eyes go from their usual large state to becoming droopy. she silently nodded her head.

"sorry. goodbye, mr. grim reaper," and the title tore him to shreds. it angered him, over everything else, that all he would be to her was an evil being.

yet, he watched as she jumped from the rooftop, fluttering her wings until she flew away. as she looked back over at him, he couldn't place the odd feeling left in his stomach. if it was guilt or hatred, he would never know.

he would continue to travel, picking up the souls on his way. she always thought he was lucky for being able to travel wherever he wanted. she always wanted to befriend the humans- in fact, she wanted to befriend everyone, but she found it impossible when she was constantly being held back.

he arrived back to hell's palace, a bag in one hand, and his scythe in the other. his head drooped down, avoiding any unnecessary eye contact with the other demons.

that hope would be short lived, however, as a demon took his shoulder as he walked.

"wilbur!" he spoke cheerfully, as if he wasn't living among lava pools and ash.

"quackity," wilbur responded in the same, monotone voice. it made the demon groan.

"quackity-" he mocked, changing his shape to an exact replica of wilbur's. mimic demons, they were called, and they were able to take form of any other being, even adorning their voice. it came in handy for most demon's entertainment, but it certainly didn't faze wilbur.

he stared into the mimic of his face, hating what stared back at him.

"oh come on. that usually works on people," quackity frowned as he twisted himself back to his natural state. he began poking wilbur with his blackened hands. "just give me a little giggle, wilbur."

"no." he'd said the word so much that it rolled perfectly off his tongue. "and for fucks sake, please put on a shirt."

quackity laughed loudly. "we're in hell, wilbur! its hot as- well, hell down here. don't tell me you haven't thought about walking around shirtless either." he paused, putting his hands on wilbur's dark outfit, "or.. hoodless.."

wilbur glared with an unamused look on his face, shrugging quackity's touch off of him and trying to continue walking along his path. walking away from conversations never worked to end them, yet he still tried it.

it would be the second example today that his tactic never worked, because quackity continued to walk along with him into the palace.

"what's the catch today?" he said it like it was a cheer. "did you get the big numbers? beat your high score yet?"

he would say he could feel his blood boil, but the flames in hell already did that.

"no. i don't keep track," he explained simply, pouring his bag's content into the soul sorter. it went to the fates to decide whether the soul was good or bad. simply enough, the good souls would be transported to heaven and the bad ones would stay. sometimes he imagined them debating over a soul's purity. the sound of screams every time he opened the bag would never become easier to stomach.

"bummer," quackity hummed. "why don't you try to make the job a little fun?"

"because i don't want to, okay?" he raised his voice. this time, quackity caught the memo and stayed quiet, except for a "shit, okay." under his breath.

wilbur walked along the palace's stairs, leaving quackity alone in the lobby without another word. this time, walking away from the situation made it stop. the third time really was the charm.

he set his hood down to his shoulders with a sigh, being able to fully see the gold and red palace for what it was. all of the vibrant and bright colors that quite literally clashed with the flames. it was scary and huge, but it was home to him. it was all he'd really known.

he went up to his room, laying on his bed with a groan. sometimes he wished his bed was quite literally made out of feathers, because his back always ached. tommy always said it was because of his "fucking posture", but wilbur knew he had no room to talk. just the thought of him jumping into a big pile of fluffy feathers made his bones ease a little more.

he would spend the night rolling around in his not-feather bed, having issues with his sleep. it was such a frequent problem for him that it was barely even a problem. just how he existed.

and, meanwhile, she would spend her "night" (in quotations. it never got dark in heaven.) staring up at the sun, wondering what sort of buttons she could've possibly pushed with wilbur to make him hate her. it was a recurring thought, but it kept her up too frequently.

the worst part about waking up was simply that. waking up. wilbur would roll out of bed, fluff up his hair a little bit, put on the same clothes, and be going. he went through the same routine every day and he hated it. but at the same time, if anyone disrupted his routine, he'd be angered.

"wilbur!"

and his routine was ruined.

"morning, tommy," he muttered, wiping the sleep from his eyes with a yawn. he couldn't be bothered to be angry this early, and definitely not to tommy. "aren't you supposed to be in heaven right now?"

"i'm on break," tommy said in a matter-of-fact tone. he stretched his arms and his wings with a groan, leaving some stray yellowed feathers behind. "delivering babies to peoples' doors is quite the workout."

wilbur barely registered his words, staring idly past tommy. his eyes wandered more on a decoration on a table behind him. he didn't even notice that tommy had continued speaking until he put his hands on his hips and sighed.

"yeah. both mum and dad really like me!" tommy spoke, ruffling his hands through his hair until he realized his goggles were in the way. the mention of phil darkened his mood.

"mum told you to stop calling him 'dad'," wilbur spoke monotone and simple, as usual.

and as usual, tommy groaned at wilbur's monotone voice and simple words, slouching down. "she also told you to stop being so fucking gloomy."

wilbur felt the need to do a lot of things; one- hit tommy with his scythe, two- tell tommy what a privileged asshole he sounded like, and three- do both at the same time. but wilbur had an okay-ish perception of tommy, growing up alongside the boy took a lot. but as annoying as the boy was, he was wilbur's company. even if he would rather swallow his scythe than to admit it aloud.

instead of acting on his mental list of intrusive thoughts, wilbur only sighed. he didn't bother to pick the conversation back up, his eyes wandering to the decoration again. had they always had that there? it looks off-centered.

"well," tommy noticed wilbur's spacing and patted his shoulder as he walked towards the stairs. "good luck today."

wilbur stared blankly through the fringe of sweaty hair on his forehead. inside, he was trying to form whatever a smile was. "thank you, tommy."

he watched as tommy jumped down the stairway, yellow tufts of hair flying with him. he heard a shout from down below, "and don't forget to fix your posture!"

wilbur scoffed in response, sounding more uninterested than he intended to, but ultimately pulling his shoulders back. a new day! a new window of opportunity! is what wilbur would think, if he wasn't wilbur.

he grabbed the railing of the stairway, his pale thin hand contrasting with the gold. he stared at his feet the entire time stepping down. he'd already forgotten about "fixing his posture".

he made his way down the lobby, not getting a chance to speak to his mother due to the abundance of demons lined up, trying to tell her that she was making a mistake. it was typical, but it still left bags under her eyes. wilbur only gave her a timid wave as a greeting before exiting through the palace's doors.

he dragged his tacky shoes through the red dirt beneath him, watching as tiny rocks rolled along his feet before stopping. he almost ran head first into the elevator due to how long he kept his gaze down, but luckily he saved himself from the mental embarrassment.

he stepped inside, proving his identity to the machine far more times than he needed to. mimic demons would always try to steal his finger print to use the elevator and get themselves back onto earth, but it was never successful. he had a keycard, just in case the identity proving didn't work. tommy had the same.

as the doors parted and he made a careful step out, he did his daily greeting to the guard (his daily greeting being a casual glare and a furrow of his eyebrows) and used his scythe to poke himself out.

from the surface, it would simply look like a boulder being turned over. but as wilbur stepped onto the grass, he took a moment to breathe. the air on earth was far better than the smoke in hell. he would spend a great deal of time taking a couple deep breaths, appreciating the silence, oh the lovely sound of absolutely nothing-

"wilbur! there you are!"

he almost screamed. instead, he only turned to the source of the way-too-cheerful voice, saying her name in utter disbelief. "what are you doing here?"

he didn't speak as if he were asking a question. he wasn't actually interested in why she was here in the grass with her elegant white dress and her annoyingly wide smile, using her wings to shield herself from the sun, even if they were translucent.

"i was waiting for you!" she squeaked, getting up from her spot in the grass and practically skipping up towards him. she had what looked to be a gardener's nightmare in her hands. "this is for you!"

before he could say another word, she pushed his hood off of his head. she had to use her wings to reach the top of his hair, but she was still able to run her hand through his brown waves. and as she giggled, she placed her makeshift flower crown on his head.

she pushed herself away- still hovering on her wings, and took a long, meaningful look at him. "you look great!"

"i feel disgusting," he said with anger, taking the weeds out of his hair and stuffing them sloppily into his bag. "why did you do that."

she looked at him with a frown, but still tried to make herself sound happy. her halo flickered softly. "it.. it was supposed to be a gift for you."

"yeah? well i hated it," he squinted his gaze down at her, and she could feel herself shrinking the more and more he looked.

she stayed quiet, the halo above her head still flicked on and off. she looked at him with nothing but a frown, lowering herself so that her feet hit the ground.

what she failed to notice was that he unfurrowed his brows ever so slightly upon seeing her upset.

"let me just get going, okay?" he spoke, trying to make his voice a little bit softer but still keeping the agonizing punch in there.

she spoke quieter now. "i have one more thing for you."

wilbur flinched, fully expecting a glitter bomb to come out of her pocket. but to his surprise, it wasn't.

she pulled out a pack of gummy worms, handing it to him with a pitiful smile on her face. he took it, examining it slowly.

"why is it open?" he took another look at it and realized it was almost half empty.

"umm.. i got a little hungry waiting for you," she mumbled, playing with the hem of her dress. "you were taking a little bit long."

"and speaking of which, i've been talking to you for a little bit too long," he retorted, crumpling up the bag of gummy worms in his palm. the sides of the bagging were practically fighting with the cage he made out of his fingers.

he began to walk in the opposite direction, debating in his mind exactly how long it would take to make his way out of the field and to the nearest trash can. she quickly followed behind him, almost tripping on herself in the process.

"hey- i didn't expect a hello from you, but a thank you would at least be nice!" she yelled as he speed-walked away with his grumpy walk and stone shoulders. "i'm talking to you!"

"and i'm not," he grumbled, fiddling to put his hood back onto his head as a way of closing himself off.

"just-" she flapped her wings, trying to be alongside him. "just have some gummy worms, please?"

he glared, slightly squinting from the piercing light of her halo. "maybe later."

"right now."

as much as he didn't want to, he stopped dead in his tracks. his stare was hurtful and his hand clenched onto his scythe. that was the most demanding he'd ever heard of her.

there was a voice in his head telling him to leave, to just let her have the last word and be gone. but he felt like he couldn't move.

"excuse me?" he only said, scrunching his eyebrows up.

"i want you to have them right now," she enunciated her words, crossing her arms and trying to copy his expression. she was fighting her usual bright smile under her pursed lips. "in front of me."

he blinked, almost starstruck. "why?"

she seemed nearly surprised at his one word question, her stern voice softening slightly. "you look like you haven't been taking care of yourself," as she spoke through a pout, he could feel his face warming up, like tiny little punching bags beneath his skin. "i wanna make sure you're eating."

he hated the feeling of his cheeks going warm. he slept in hell, obviously he knew what warmth was. but for some reason it felt even weirder when it was behind his skin. he cleared his throat with a cough.

"this? you think this is healthy?" he held up the crumpled, half-empty bag, speaking with his forceful actions.

she went quiet again, only speaking loud enough for him to hear. "i couldn't afford anything else at the gas station."

the feeling of warmth in his cheeks soon boiled over into anger. "you couldn't afford anything else?" he repeated in disbelief, "you are quite literally an angel! you're invisible to the human eye! it is so easy for you to steal."

"but i don't wanna be a bad person!" she copied his raised voice, standing on her tiptoes as almost a challenge. "i leave money in the cash register for the man. you know, he's really struggling. he could use the money. his name is robert, i think-"

"i don't care!" wilbur screamed, cutting her off completely. she flinched at his voice, feeling overwhelmed tears start to prickle from her eyes. she hid behind her wings, afraid that he might do something drastic.

he felt his shoulders shrink at her reaction, but ultimately grumbled and opened the pack of gummy worms. he hesitated, holding out the candy in front of him.

she opened her eyes from her flinch, and saw him sniffing the gummy worm. a smile spread across her face. "you just.. take a bite out of it."

"i know," he muttered. he was already mad enough that he had to eat it, he didn't want to be instructed on how.

"oh.. okay. i mean- i just kinda assumed that you didn't know because i don't think there are gummy worms in hell. they'd get all sticky and stuff. at least, that's what i've heard. are there really no gummy worms in hell?"

he looked at her with no amusement on his face. she looked right back at him, however, wanting an answer to her long winded question that was somehow said in a singular breath.

"no… no there aren't," he spoke slowly, raising an eyebrow at her. "are there gummy worms in heaven?"

why was he making conversation with her? he should be out collecting souls right now, not talking about stupid little gummy worms with this stupid little angel. he mentally slapped himself in the face, cringing with a shake of his head.

"no, there aren't," she batted her eyelashes like she was trying to think for a moment. "but phil sometimes gives me money for gummy worms. i share it with the others!"

he was barely registering her words, his mind still clouded with the mental boxing match he was having with himself. he was being stupid. not even the mention of phil was able to knock him from his thoughts.

"hey," she waved her hand in his face, acting as the referee and stopping his boxing match. he was almost at a knockout. "you've been making that face for a while. do you not like gummy worms?"

wilbur didn't know how to really respond to the question, having never even tried gummy worms before. he looked back at her. she had her full attention on him, waiting for another answer that he would hopefully not blunder.

"it's.. it's fine."

he definitely blundered.

he ignored it, not ready for a round two fight, and put the gummy worm in his mouth.

she leaned forward. "how is it?"

it was about the best damn thing he's ever had.

"it's.. okay, i guess."

"great!" she jumped- fucking jumped. "im sure you have to be on your way for your very important job-"

he completely forgot about his being the grim reaper, straightening up suddenly with widened eyes and tightening his grip on his scythe. he cursed under his breath, running towards the direction of the city.

"hey, i didn't finish!" she called out, catching up to him once more with flaps of her wings.

"i can't talk. you've already made me late enough," his hood almost fell off in the wind with how quickly he was running. "fuck, mum's gonna be pissed."

she would, in fact, not be pissed. she was always far too busy to even greet wilbur or tommy, and they hadn't done any sort of domestic activity in what felt like an eternity. he tried to convince himself that he didn't care, that she was just busy with being the queen of death, but it was extremely lonely.

there wasn't any time for them to really speak. they were both always busy and family meals were long forgotten. in fact, wilbur had never eaten in front of another person before. the most he'd done was eat some boring, rotten food while sitting on his floor with tommy- and even then, he was only picking at it idly with his fork.

he found comfort in eating alone. there was no one there to judge him or to argue. it was just him, his thoughts, and the literal grayed out food they had in hell. but there was something always so reminiscent about having food with another person, even if it was just something like dessert.

"oh," she sighed, moving her wings idly. she watched as he ran away without another look. her arms swung at her sides in an almost confused fashion. "okay. um- hope you like your gummy worms! bye wilbur!"

at least she didn't call him mr. grim reaper again.

he didn't care, anyway, just trying to get to work on the job he obviously hated. but when he stopped to catch his breath, he couldn't help but stare at the pack of gummy worms in his sweaty palms, the colorful designs contrasting his dull looking hand.

he looked around. it looked like there were no cheerful angels in sight, so he figured himself to be safe. he popped another gummy worm into his mouth, scrunching his nose at the taste of something so impossibly sweet. it was a pleasant change from the tasteless foods in hell, and the addictive sweetness coated his tongue for a while.

he stuffed the rest of the pack into his bag, appreciating how empty it was without the souls inside it- a temporary feeling.

wilbur already felt like he'd wasted enough time, and got to work. bringing people to death's door wasn't exactly the easiest job.

he started with a car crash, wincing at the amount of shattered glass and blood everywhere. he fell sick to his stomach with a nasty feeling bubbling up in his throat. all those years dealing with death and it still never got easier to see the causes.

he held his scythe up slowly, shutting his eyes in a flinch. he thought of a thousand things all at once, trying to focus on one. they have to die. i have to put them out of their misery. they're dying because they have to, not because i chose to.

he took a breath, feeling like needles were going up his nose and into his lungs, and swung the weapon down.

it sunk through the person's body without struggle, opening up a passageway for him. he removed his scythe carefully, as if it would hurt them.

he sat on his knees next to the car. although his body was phantom-like against the gravel, he could still feel the roughness under him.

he held a cold hand to the person's back, trying to ignore how it looked to see the life drain from under their eyelids and filter out onto his palm. as soon as he could no longer feel a nauseating pull on his hand, he lifted it gently. he watched as the soul threaded directly off the person, catching onto his fingertips.

he didn't bother to take a closer look at it. the last thing he wanted was to remind himself that these people were actually human. he only took it in his palms, mushing it until it turned into a small circular shape. he put it in his bag, not caring to look at what else was in it.

wilbur would continue to follow through with that sequence throughout the day, as he usually did. scythe, hand, soul, bag. when he was growing up, mumza told him that he would be used to it in no time. but as "no time" passed, he still felt like throwing up after each day.

he made his way down the elevator, his shoulders stinging with the weight of his bag. the souls were practically weightless, but gathering so many into his bag made it sag down. he held his scythe with two hands, his arms being too sore to function properly on their own.

tommy was waiting for him at the steps of the palace, ignoring everyone lined up at the doors. his elbow was on his knee, and his face was being held up in his palm. he had been playing with a stone, trying to break it with his fingertips.

"wilbur," he automatically sprung up upon seeing his brother. he used to go in for hugs, however stopped shortly after wilbur started discussing how much he hated them. "mum wants to see you. says its important."

wilbur took time to react to his words, feeling like his bones weren't his. he only hummed an, "oh. okay," as he made his way up the steps, his feet barely dragging behind him.

"wait-" tommy called out, making wilbur almost freeze on cue. "i was.. i was wondering if you wanted to hang out by the fountain.. of wishes. the one up there. like- like we used to..?"

wilbur's breath stalled, stopping in his lungs. he'd barely even remembered it, but was holding back a smile at the memory.

that smile became easy to suppress as it slowly disappeared. he remembered all of it.

"mum doesn't want us talking to phil," was all wilbur muttered. he finally took a breath, his chest rising and falling with a sigh. "sorry."

"its not like that anymore!" tommy tried, throwing his hands up in the air in an almost child-like fashion. "they've changed, phil especially! i talked to him the other day, and-"

"mum doesn't want us talking to phil, tommy," he enunciated it slower this time. watching tommy's shoulders shrink, a sinking grayness fell over his face like a cloud was above him.

"yeah. okay," tommy sighed with a shake of his head. he played with the calloused skin on his fingers. "you're right."

wilbur stood there for a great deal of time. as much as it physically pained him, he felt a trapped sensation in his chest.

"tommy?" he spoke softly, barely enough for the both of them to hear. "you're a good kid."

he left before tommy could respond, expecting the boy to make some stupid remark about how soft he was turning. tommy didn't react that way, however. he stood alone on the steps, taking breaths watching as wilbur walked away.

wilbur made his way past the screaming, impatient people. he was always hateful towards loud noises as they made his skin crawl. he thought maybe that was the reason he hated the angel's voice so much.

there he went again thinking of that stupid angel. if he'd given her any more room in his mind, she'd have to pay the rent.

shaking his head from stupid thoughts, he called his mother's name, gaining her attention.

"wilbur," she spoke softly, her voice too tired from all the demons and ghosts she spoke to. her black hair hung over her face messily, but it was covered by a large lacy hat. "how are you?"

wilbur knew she wasn't actually curious about how he was feeling. it was just a filler for the missing years of his childhood.

"i'm doing well," a lie, "tommy said you wanted to talk to me?"

he saw his mother's face light up, as if she'd just remembered something blatantly obvious. wilbur could imagine her thoughts- "oh, thats my son, i forgot."

she fished for something on a table near her large throne. it looked more shiny than any angel's halo. damn it, why was he thinking about her again?

"here," she handed an envelope to him with her large hand. he hesitated in taking it. "the messenger said it was for you. you don't usually get mail, so i figured it was important."

wilbur stared at the wax seal, the intricate pattern almost painful to stare at for too long. "are you sure this is for me? im not-"

"im so sorry, wilbur," her eyebrows disappeared into the shape of her hat as she put a hand to her black gown. "i have to get going talking to these people," she motioned to the line in front of her. "i also have a super busy day. i have to-"

"its fine, mum," he cut her off just as she did to him. he couldn't feel any remorse for his lack of formality. "you're.. doing great."

he spared himself from the long speech his mother always gave about how busy she was. it was always a drag to hear. tommy said it was her way of indirectly apologizing for not giving him family meals- but wilbur always thought that if he was right, she would directly say it.

in all honesty, however, he missed being able to sit next to someone and eat something.

the black lipstick on her face formed into a smile. "thank you, wilbur," she sighed, her body already facing the demon she was talking to last. "and tell me what the letter is!"

"i will," another lie. he was really great at them because she could barely ever hear them.

as he was going to the soul sorter, he turned the letter over in his hand, squinting at the written address. it read, "hell's palace (if it's real! i've never been there but i've heard about it!) for wilbur!" with a bunch of hearts and smiley faces. wilbur felt himself go sick to the stomach, nearly tripping on himself.

it was probably that stupid angel trying to give him a pity letter that he didn't want. he scowled at the thought as he emptied his bag into the soul sorter.

that dumb little angel, who did she think she was? did she genuinely think that wilbur would soften up to her because of a little letter with hearts all over it?

but as wilbur was coming up with more mean adjectives, items had been rejected from the soul sorter, and fell out.

it was her flower crown and gummy worms.

wilbur felt his angered expression slowly fade away like sand in an hourglass. he stared at the objects on the ground by his feet.

he was reminded of her soft smile as she put the flower crown on his head, her gentle touches to his hair like he was delicate. or how she forced him to eat fucking gummy worms because of his health.

he could feel the tiniest sliver of a smile peeking out from the corners of his lips. no, what was he doing? that angel was always so judgemental of him. from the moment they first met, she was always criticizing his job and she was always being rude to him.

but, she still cared about him.

wilbur didn't know how to react to that thought. his stomach felt like it was clawing its way out of him, and that weird, warm feeling came back to his face. he hated it.

he bent over, picking up the flowers and gummy worms. he held them in his hands and under his robe, just in case someone saw him holding them.

he quickly went up the stairs, cutting the corner to his room so that no one saw him. he set the flowers, gummy worms, and letter on his desk, his hands propping him up. he stared, yet again, at the objects until he realized- he hadn't even opened her letter yet.

he took a sharp inhale, his fist pressed so hard against the table that he didn't even register the fact that his hands were shaking. he leaned back, taking the envelope with him.

sure enough, it was from her.

"dear wilbur!

hi! i hope this delivered to the right address. i thought mail would be easier in the afterlife, but it really isn't. i hope you're okay!! i hope you didn't hate the gummy worms too much and that you are taking care of yourself! get plenty of sleep please.

i was writing to ask if you wanted to meet me for ice cream! i asked phil, and he said that ice cream would melt in hell too, so i wanted to have some with you. i can show you all the good flavors and everything.

it would be tomorrow, i've listed the time and address below. i hope to see you there!

ps. you better come with a full eight hours of sleep!"

he read over the letter at least a thousand times, his eyes glazing all over the hearts and smiley faces that she used to punctuate each sentence. he felt like he was going to throw up his ugly, beating heart. he didn't know if he should write back or even show up.

it would be his first time properly eating in front of someone in a while, and the thought made him nervous, almost.

as if to taunt him, tommy burst into the room, the sudden loud noise making wilbur scream. he hid the letter on his desk behind him.

"woah," tommy put his hand up to almost shush wilbur, as if he were some wild tiger. "calm down, man."

"sorry-" wilbur straightened himself up, coughing out of awkwardness. he felt his skin melting off of him, and he wanted something to make the tense air easier. "tommy, can you cover for me tomorrow?"

oh god. was he really that desperate to start a conversation?

tommy's eyebrows disappeared into his golden tufts of hair, a confused look grazing his face. "you want me to what?"

"cover.. for me?" he couldn't even believe the words he was saying. "i have a.. thing tomorrow-" no he didn't. he wasn't gonna go. "and.. i need someone to do my job."

"what thing? its not like you have a.." tommy's words trailed off as he stared at his brother in terror. "do you?"

"do i have a what..?" wilbur spoke with confusion as tommy gawked at him. he stage whispered, as if someone were watching.

"do you have a date?"

wilbur's chest bloomed with an awful sensation, his heartbeat picking up and pounding against his ribs. "what? no, i-" he felt like his mouth was stuffed with tar and feathers. "no, of course not, tommy."

"okay! okay," the boy held his gloved hands up in defense, backing away from a powder keg in the form of his brother. "but, whatever it is, how do i cover for you?"

wilbur dropped his tensed shoulders. "you always talk about how easy my job seems, right?"

"what?" tommy screeched, his gold wings flinching with him. "but- but you're the prince of death and i'm the prince of life! how am i supposed to do that?"

wilbur felt his stomach churn at the comparison. he hated the way people would always say "the prince of death" like it would curse the next seven generations of life. his eyebrows furrowed like caterpillars above his eyes.

"then at least pretend that i'm working," he muttered. "it's gonna be easy. i'm sure mum won't even notice."

tommy's lips shifted as he bit the inside of his cheek. he knew wilbur was right. mumza barely said hi to him too.

"okay," tommy sighed as his shoulders fell in defeat. he pointed a finger at wilbur, "but you owe me big time!"

wilbur nodded in response, shooing tommy away with a flick of his hand. tommy listened (although not shutting the door properly), and left his brother alone in his room. the letter was still hidden behind him.

he sighed, feeling his lungs shrink intensely. he had no clue what to do or how to pull it off.

wilbur went to sleep earlier that night, trying to fulfill her promise to get eight hours of sleep. when he woke up, he could feel his bones almost moving on their own. it felt odd to not have the burden of being the soul taking grim reaper.

he looked at himself in the mirror. he looked nothing short of depressing.

he walked over to his closet, sighing as he was face to face with the same rotten black robes he wore. people always trashed on tommy for owning the same white, red sleeved shirt, but wilbur wasn't any better with his duplicates.

he groaned, his head falling in a near defeat. though, he could see a small glint of yellow. hesitating, he picked it up, taking off his cloak to put it on.

it was a really old sweater that phil got him many years ago. back before everything went down the gutter. he ran his thumb down the frayed material. by some miracle, it still fit him.

he looked at himself in his mirror, scowling when he saw who stared back. he looked nothing like how he usually did, and that slight bit of color changed him. the yellow fabric, even when old, still popped out more than his pale skin did.

still, something felt like it was missing. his glasses, maybe? he set the frames on his scrunched face, pushing it up his nose with the back of his hand. that didn't seem to work.

he looked over at his desk, his bottom lip plumped out as he thought. he gave a long stare to the flower crown, feeling his chest tighten and warm with a disgusting feeling. he picked up the flower crown- more delicately than he'd like to admit, and placed it on his tufts of brown as he stared at his reflection.

his mouth hung open. he looked completely different now. there were so many colors and shapes for him to process. and were the dark spots under his eyes really that prominent?

although, even with the wave of confusion, it felt almost comforting. he tried his best at a smile, but shook his head. too far.

wilbur shuffled through the underworld quickly, trying his best not to be seen- and especially not by quackity.

"tommy," quackity stage whispered, gaining the boy's attention. "what the hell's he doing?"

tommy took his place beside quackity, looking to where he was pointing. he scowled. "dude, i kid you not, he's got a fucking date."

quackity scoffed a laugh before looking at tommy. his face was still scrunched in disapproval, his wings idle behind him. quackity’s expression dropped. “wait- you’re serious? he’s actually got a date?”

“that’s what i’m thinking!” tommy’s voice screeched suddenly. he looked and sounded like a bird. “i’ve never seen him wearing something so.. colorful. and look at his fucking posture!”

they watched in amusement as wilbur jammed his finger on the elevator button, trying to get the doors open as he looked around frantically. he hadn’t even noticed, but his shoulders were in fact more pushed back.

he stared at his reflection in front of him, bringing a hand into his hair to even it out. flowers were still scattered around in his hair and it was as if he were producing a trail of petals behind him. he let out a groan as the doors finally parted, and he stepped in.

“who is it with?” quackity asked, holding his chin. his other hand was dug into his pocket. a small, rectangular figure lining the fabric. “do you know?”

tommy turned to quackity with a serious look on his face, as if he were speaking about a universe killing secret rather than who wilbur was eating ice cream with. “you didn’t hear it from me,” he emphasized his words, “but i keep overhearing this angel talking to phil about wilbur. its weird- especially when you think about how phil and wilbur think about each other.”

tommy grimaced at his own words. he could tell how much it cut the mood. it was practically taboo to say wilbur and phil’s name in the same sentence- let alone even mention phil in the underworld. even with tommy trying to get them to forgive each other, the thought of them ever eating at the same dinner table was unfathomable.

quackity interrupted the tension filled silence by asking the angel’s name. tommy gave it without a second thought, but eventually had to repeat it for quackity to properly hear. they were stood outside the pit of lost souls, a place that the forgotten demons would go. they served no purpose in hell as long as they were somehow remembered by someone on earth. it was always a loud area, having literal burning souls inside.

“huh..” quackity hummed, repeating the angel’s name again. “you think they’ll become a thing?”

“no, definitely not,” tommy huffed, laughing as if quackity was telling a knock-knock joke. “he’s too grumpy to actually function around another being.”

“i say give the guy some slack! he deserves at least a chance," quackity protested. "twenty bucks."

"you're betting on his love life?" tommy asked, but quackity stood still with a smirk on his face with his hand out. "fine. deal."

as they shook on their bet, tommy grumbled, his wings tensing up with him. a plan was forming itself in quackity’s mind, his hand patting the lining of his shorts.

“he’s probably up there making out with her right now.”

wilbur, in fact, was not. he was standing on the distant sidewalk, watching her from afar. she sat on the concrete with her legs crossed, looking like her mind was in another galaxy. wilbur on the other hand, stood with his clammy hands at his sides. his palms never sweat as badly as this, and it was making him unsettled. he tried his best to wipe his hands off on his sleeve, but it only made them damp and warm. he sucked in a breath, ignoring it and walking up towards her.

when he caught her eye, her never-ending smile only widened. she stood up to properly face him, looking at him from the top of his flower-ridden hair down to his shoes. “wilbur?”

“hi.. hi-” his voice cracked, and he tried to cover it up with a fake cough. now his throat wasn’t working. “um, i didn’t know.. i wasn’t sure if.. i-”

“you look really nice!” she interrupted, saving him the embarrassment. he let out a mix of a smile and a relieved sigh, muttering his thanks. “and it looks like you actually slept.”

“i did,” he mumbled, adjusting the collar of his bunchy sweater. suddenly, he could feel every texture touching his body. “eight hours.. just like you asked..”

“it wasn’t so difficult, was it?” she giggled, and the noise stabbed wilbur a thousand times in the stomach.

“actually, it was,” he bit the inside of his cheek, rocking back and forth on his heels with nervousness. “my bed is a literal stone. i wish it were made out of feathers.”

“maybe your dream will come true some time! come on, let’s make a wish,” she tilted her head, closing her eyes and putting her palms together. “i wish wilbur’s bed was made out of feathers!”

“..is that gonna work?” he tilted his head in her direction.

“hm.. i don’t know. but i always like to try it,” she hummed with satisfaction, putting her hands back at her sides. “can i tell you a secret? i’ve always wanted to visit the fountain of wishes.”

the name rung a bell all the way in the back of wilbur’s mind. he remembered his father telling him stories every night about the fountain of wishes. he scowled at the thought of hin. phil would tell wilbur that his only wish was to meet a beautiful woman, but look where that got him.

“what would you wish for?” he asked, trying to shift the gears of his mind.

“i don’t know,” she said, contently, leaning forward to grab his hand. “maybe i’ll think of something later.”

wilbur flinched, something she didn’t see because she was dragging him into the store. he wondered if she could feel how damp and warm his palms were, but it looked like she didn’t mind. for some reason, their hands seemed to magically fit together like puzzle pieces.

his mind was churning again, thinking about the unknown feeling running through him. he felt suddenly aware of everything around him, and it was awful. yet, she kept giggling and smiling like it was just another day. he envied her power of optimism, even if it was the same thing he disliked about her.

uncomfortably, his mind felt as if he was put in a room of a thousand people, contributing and understanding each one of their conversations. as overwhelming as it was, it was how his brain regularly worked. how he somehow managed to get even an ounce of sleep every night, he'll never know.

his thoughts were unraveling before he could roll them back up, feeling tired of aimlessly following the long film of this and that and-

"do you have a favorite flavor?"

it all snapped away.

"uh- um, well, um-"

how was she able to do that?

"oh, right," she giggled. somehow, in the thousand person room that took place in his mind, her small laugh was the only thing bouncing off his skull. "you've never had ice cream before."

unable to process the sudden quiet of his mind, he simply shook his head. "n-no, i haven't."

"try this!" she held out a scoop of her favorite flavor and wilbur stared at it like it was a cure to the common cold.

shakily, he took it. even if it only existed as a transparent-phantom thing, he was surprised that it didn't slip out of his sweaty hands.

"do.. do i bite-"

"just give it a small lick. i know it'll be cold, but it'll taste good," her words felt like a small promise to him, the most comforting thing he'd heard in a while. yet, it was like talking about the weather to her.

god, what was the feeling? he couldn't exactly pinpoint it at all.

he followed her directions, scrunching his brows in a slight concern as he stuck his tongue out. she was right, it was cold. terribly cold. he thought his tongue would get stuck to it like in the old christmas movies tommy forced him to watch.

and yet, it tasted terribly good. it was such an unfamiliar feeling on his tongue, but it somehow had a certain kick that he enjoyed.

he smacked his lips a couple times, and nodded slightly, mumbling his words. "y-yeah, i like that one."

"great!" she spoke, going over to grab the ice cream scooper. the real thing stood still on the table, but the translucent version was in her hands as she scooped up some of the flavor. as long as she put it back in the right place, nothing would be messed up too badly.

as she finished up scooping her cone, she sighed dramatically. "oh gods, i forgot to get cash."

"you don't need to give him cash, angel, he won't even notice."

his tongue went numb- not from the ice cream, but from the small nickname he'd given her.

it was a small gesture, and he could probably play it off, but it stirred his intestines until he felt like throwing them up. he'd never willingly give someone a nickname. ever.

and the worst part? she noticed.

"did you call me angel?" she stopped her fit of panic over invisible cash to look at him, the corner of her mouth lifting in an asymmetrical smile.

"well- yeah, because you're.. you're an angel," wilbur stumbled, unable to pull something out of thin air. he's lied many times. to his mom, to tommy, to quackity. but for some reason lying to her didn't feel right on his tongue. "a-and you.. have a halo.. and stuff.."

she noticed how he fiddled with his fingers, and decided to spare him of the embarrassment by switching the topic to her day. she seemed passionate with talking about every small thing she'd done, and wilbur admired her attitude.

wilbur prided himself in his writing. his pen and paper were like a magical escape from his burdens. he had a specific way with words that would always get him praised by his parents when he was younger. but despite that, he was completely lost on a word to describe his feelings.

she dragged him back outside without a care in the world, looking around like she owned the place. she pointed to a bench, talking about how it was her favorite bench (to which wilbur began to wonder how one could have a favorite bench), and began guiding them towards it.

in the midst of her excitement, however, she made a wrong step on the curb and yelped. wilbur noticed this quickly, bringing a quick hand to her waist to catch her.

"woah, are you alright-?" he brought her back up carefully, checking to make sure that her and her ice cream were still intact. he checked both off in his mind.

"yeah- yeah i'm fine-" she muttered, and it was the first time he'd ever seen a glint of gloominess on her face. "sorry- that was embarrassing-"

"no need to be embarrassed," wilbur's tone was calm. not a monotone calm, but an assuring calm. one that was stranger to her too.

his hand remained still on her waist, his fingers trembling in such small beats. “wilbur?” her gaze slowly met his, and she could see a small droplet of worry beneath the pools of his irises. “can i tell you something?”

he nodded slowly, eyebrows furrowing in such a concerned manner that it almost cut his forehead in half. with his hand still on her waist, he guided her carefully to the bench.

she looked at the pavement, her words coming out in a string of small mumbles that made him feel like they were the only two beings ever. just him, an angel, and a bench. “i don’t.. i don’t usually tell people this,” she fiddled with the hem of her dress, her wings draping over the back of the bench. “but.. the- the way i-i d..”

wilbur stared at the angel- the carefree, optimistic, happy angel; while she broke down bit by bit. he felt like he was almost breaking the law, that he wasn’t allowed to see such a sight. but most importantly, he felt like he needed to help.

he was always gentle, there was no denying it. he spent a lot of time as a child examining bugs (which he called “friends”) and making sure they were okay. and the urge to care for anything in need grew with him, even as everything else changed.

he noticed that his hand was still on her hip, and he drew her closer to his body. the small gesture made her startled, but she quickly grew accustomed to his touch. she felt safe, and wilbur knew that.

she took a deep breath, and spoke. “we were playing a game of hide-and-seek,” she whispered, “i-i was always clumsy, everyone made fun of me.. nobody..”

her words trailed off again, and wilbur felt his heart aching. “nobody..?”

“nobody really.. liked.. me,” she huffed, her face turning away from him. he could tell that she didn’t speak about this much. “everyone hated me, actually. like you do..”

his heart was wrapped in thorns.

it was the clearest thing she’d said. like she had so much time to think about it and deduct it. he wanted to say something, wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her and scream at her. but he didn’t. he couldn’t- he felt paralyzed.

“i guess i tripped and fell or something, a-and i-” a bile swelled her throat. “it hurt. a lot. i was- i was screaming and crying for help b-but everyone ignored me. except for..”

her head lifted as she looked at him. it was the type of look in which he could study each pigment on her face, and he’d be able to use the rosiness of her cheeks to paint a breathtaking portrait.

“except for you.”

she smiled. and even through tears, her expression lit up the earth.

“me?” he whispered softly.

immediately, she nodded. she was so close to his face that she could see a tiny cut to the right of his adam’s apple. she suppressed a giggle as she thought about him struggling to shave, making all sorts of faces into his mirror.

“i was so scared and alone.. and then you came along with your big scythe and your scary hood. and you plunged your scythe into me chest- gods, i was so scared,” she giggled briefly at the thought, but her expression was genuine. “but you gave me peace.”

she leaned closer, wanting to wrap her arms around him and die a second time like that. but she knew he’d hate it.

“it was all i wanted in that moment.”

his eyes were droopy, staring from her left eye, to her right, and down at her parted lips. she was nothing short of beautiful. looking at her for that long felt like a mere privilege, forcing him to be speechless.. he squeezed her hip tighter just to hold her.

“i.. i wanted to thank you..” she whispered, so quiet that her vocal chords barely buzzed.

in his peripheral vision, he noticed how her eyelids fluttered softly. his sight blurred as she leaned in closer, and-

“but you always hated me.”

she leaned back in the seat, and wilbur’s disappointment split him in two. she was right there- right fucking there, but she was so out of reach. the only barrier? his own loathing. the irony of hating his hatred felt like a stab wound to his thorn-crowned heart.

and the worst part; she was unphased.

wilbur gulped as a stack of words piled themselves in his throat. that nasty, overwhelming feeling running through him again. “angel, i-”

“so, what’s your favorite color?” she asked in a light tone, licking at her ice cream.

a wave of dismay washed over his face. he couldn’t think. “t-teal?”

“really? i wouldn’t have guessed that,” she swung her legs beneath the bench, clearly unbothered by wilbur’s confusion. “you don’t really dress like a teal-lover. do you think the moon is real?"

what?

"no, bad question. hmm. what’s your favorite band?”

his heart fell into the pit of his stomach, thorns poking at his sides creating a terrible sting on his abdomen. he opened his mouth to speak- maybe cry and release his feelings; but nothing came up. not even an answer to her stupid question. it was nauseating.

she began talking about the sort of music she liked, but none of it struck his brain. he felt sick. he wanted to scream and sob and punch something. but he sat still like he was posing for a renaissance painting.

“hey, that reminds me,” she stood up abruptly, pointing her finger upwards, despite going unnoticed by wilbur. “i gotta get cash for the ice cream man! i’ll be right back.”

he didn’t even realize she spoke, even when she was repeating his name and trying to get his attention.

why was he disappointed at the lost opportunity? why did he want to curl up in a ball and tug his hair out? what was that stupid feeling that was haunting him all afternoon? it was tearing him apart limb by limb. what was the word, what was-

oh.

oh.

it was love. he loved her. it was as simple as a four letter word.

the last time he told someone he loved them, he was begging his father not to leave. as he watched the man- the god- his father walk away, he realized that the word meant nothing. it only brought him pain; and if he didn't love, he didn't have to feel that agony.

his stomach turned, breathing becoming alarmingly shallow. too many memories flushed his mind, and his throat tightened.

"hello? wilbur?"

"don't come back." he stood up suddenly, ice cream falling to the ground next to him.

"what?" she flinched, staring up at him with terror on her face that he didn't even read. he was so blinded by his anger. the light of her halo flickered.

"i said, don't come back." it was almost a subconscious thing, how he lifted his hand into his hair and threw the flower crown onto the sidewalk. right next to his ice cream.

his throat burned harshly. all of his muscles tensed up in such a way that definitely wasn't healthy. he could barely even hear his own words through the pounding in his ears, and he most importantly couldn't hear her heart ripping in two.

"wilbur-"

"stop. stop this. stop following me everywhere, stop- stop acting like you care-" his hands balled up into fists at his sides, "stop everything! i never want to see you again!"

and that was all that was needed for her to turn around and fly off, and that was all that he needed for him to realize what a complete moron he was.

his walk home was nothing short of shameful. and this time he walked through hell with messy flower petals in his hair and a stupid yellow sweater and dumb tears in his eyes.

he didn't realize that quackity, a man who was about to lose twenty dollars, was watching him from afar. he cursed under his breath, biting his bottom lip until his hand brushed against his pocket.

tommy's keycard.

-

he looked at himself in the reflection of a lava pool, making all sorts of scrunchy and over dramatic faces. he experimented with the way the hood fell over his hair and how it made his furrowed eyebrows look.

he made his way to the elevator, admiring how the scythe looked when he tossed it around in his hands. and when it asked for a confirmation of identity, he pulled out the keycard, swiping it before anyone could see.

he'd continue to try to do tricks with the scythe until he got to the top, waving a hand to the guard until he realized he had to stay in character. his lips suddenly pursed and his eyes became hooded.

to his delight, an angel was there waiting for him.

"wilbur-" she stood up suddenly, her hands shaking at her sides. the light in her tear filled eyes was nearly gone, the glow of her halo barely there. "i wanted to a-apologize-"

"come with me," he spoke, as monotone as he could. his hand reached out towards her, and she hesitantly took it.

with uncertainty written all over her face, she spoke nervously. "where.. where are we going-?"

"i want to make up for what.. happened.. last night.." he muttered, dragging her underground.

she held her flickering halo carefully as they zoomed to the elevator, watching him jam the buttons with his finger. she'd never seen someone so eager.

as soon as the doors parted, he forced her inside with such an anticipation she couldn't pinpoint. it made her feel uneasy, how weird he had been acting.

"wilbur?" her voice came out as more of a squeak, taking his other hand in hers. she looked right at him with swelled eyelids. "this.. this isn't a trick, is it?"

his eyes widened, eyebrows unknotting a crease on his forehead. "what?" he practically laughed, "why- why would it be a trick?"

"i don't know.. you just seem.." her voice wavered, eye contact faltering. "nevermind, it's stupid."

"look at me, love," the nickname was.. new. "i don't want to hurt you. i'm gonna make everything up, okay?"

she hummed an agreement, eyes fluttering to make contact with his. his face was soft, just like the other night. but something seemed missing.

"i wanna show you everything about my home," the excitement in his voice was almost raw. "i live in a palace, did you know that?"

"i didn't," she smiled, a forced one. "are you gonna show me around?"

at that, the elevator's doors opened, and she was hit with a sudden wave of heat that nearly made her fall over.

and he almost didn't catch her.

tears started to swell up her eyes as she clung onto his arm, nails digging into broken fabric. soft yelps came out of her mouth.

"love, are you alright?" he spoke worriedly, and the amount of emotion in his voice made her even more lightheaded.

"i-i am-" she whispered, getting back onto her feet. "its just- y'know- what.. what i told you last night..?"

he nodded his head, a soft "oh" coming out of his mouth. but it didn't seem like an ounce of actual empathy lied behind his eyes. a tint of red glazed it instead. she felt odd.

did he not remember? or did he choose not to?

when she was able to walk properly, he led her around. if it wasn't for the burning pit in her stomach, she'd be extremely excited. but she had a feeling that something deeper was lying under the lava pools.

"this is the palace," he sighed, gesturing to the building. "isn't it cool?"

"it is.." she muttered. this awe, she could not fake. the large, intricate structures of gold and red and the occasional fire bounced off her glassy eyes. "can we go inside? maybe you can show me your room-"

"i.." he stiffened up suddenly. "i don't think that's a good idea."

"oh.." she muttered, trying to read his firm facial expression. but she couldn't.

a thick silence fell upon them. the only noticeable thing was how her halo flicked on and off with inconsistent beats.

"hey, i have to.. do something.. how about you stay here until i'm finished, okay? maybe you can talk to my mom or.. or talk to the hellhounds," his voice was unconvincing, but she still nodded, even as disappointed as she was.

and she watched him walk away, turning the corner away from her. she couldn't help the overwhelming feeling of disgust rummaging through her. the constant stares of demons around her didn't make anything better.

her feelings were mixed. maybe he's having a good day or- or maybe he's really considering peace between them.

but what if it really was a trick?

her soft facial expressions fell into her lap, weighing her options. she always sought to find the good in people, always trying and trying to think positive. but even after she revealed everything- everything she couldn't admit out loud, he turned her away. and there was no right explanation for that, no matter how beautiful his palace was.

she straightened up, fists clenched at her sides. she wasn't going to take it. after going through so much of his hatred for so long, she didn't like him practically making fun of her death. she hated it.

she was going to look for him and tell him all of her raw feelings.

as he rounded the corner, his back hit the wall and his knees failed. his breathing was labored as he ran a blackened hand through his changing hair. he could feel the skin literally crawl off of him, and he was delighted to have his normal look back.

quackity sighed against the wall, catching up to his quickened breath. "now all he has to do is find her. and they're forced to make up. and i win my twenty bucks," he muttered under his lips. "god, quackity, you genius."

his laughs felt amazing to churn out. pretending to be wilbur was exhausting him to the core, but it was worth each and every penny of the twenty dollars he'd be receiving soon.

but, through all of his buzzing victory, he didn't notice an angry little angel looking for a certain grim reaper. he didn't notice her stomping around with her fists clenched at her sides.

and he definitely didn't notice her tripping and falling into the pit of lost souls.

-

wilbur's day went on horribly.

he didn't get any sleep. not that this was any different from usual; but this time his night was spent tossing and turning in his stone bed trying to think of how he was going to talk to her.

his bones ached when he got up, and no amount of stretches could heal the knot in his neck.

work was even worse. especially considering the fact that everytime he heard some sort of high pitched noise, he'd think it was a little angel fluttering her wings at him, and then he'd be able say the speech he had written up in his mind.

he was regretting his word choice of "i never want to see you again" on top of his regret for the rest of his blown out word vomit.

but as he walked from the elevator to his palace, he couldn't help but hear a sort of cry for help. and it sounded oddly similar to the angel's.

"wilbur? w-wilbur.. i know- i know you hate me but this- this hurts -"

was it?

"its not fffunny anymore- i know you got your kick out of tricking- me- but this is- ow!"

it couldn't be.

"i won't bother you again! i promise! just please- let- let me out of here- help me.. please..? it's- it's -"

he'd been hearing her voice in his head all day in somewhat intervals. but this felt more real, more raw.

he stumbled on his feet. he knew where it was coming from. he heard noises of desperate cries from it everyday, but the thought that this might be real? it scared him to his core.

worry rushed over him quicker than second thought, and he rushed over to the pit of lost souls in a panic. hoarse, raspy screams of "angel!" flew out of his throat as he scrambled to climb the volcano-like structure.

-

she still had a lot of questions for wilbur.

not the type of, "what's your favorite color?" or "what's your favorite band?" questions. more like, "wilbur? hello? please help- this hurts- are you still there?"

and she was starting to lose hope in the fact that those questions might be answered.

one things for sure; her curiosity will be the death of her.

unless he's got the courage to do something about it.

11.4k || 8.12.23 || masterlist here!

taglist (dm or send an ask to be added!) — @sixofshadowandbone @theoneandonlyyeti @harbingerofheartbreak @starsyoubreaklikesugardust @mcr-pr-fob @sapphic-soot @flynn-thebin @puppyburbites @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @merakiaes @aimi-chann @axthrial @lololol00 @deadphantomsociety @hometown-smile @qweengigi @kisstheskin

in case you did not read the beginning (its a long wall of text i understand ��‍↕️), i do not write for wilbur soot anymore and do not condone or support any of his actions. therefore, part two will not be coming :(

[himegureisu]

The Howler

Summary: Your husband, Severus, receives a Howler from you.

A/N: This prompt randomly passed through my brain. I thought it would be nice. It did take a day or two to write but here it is! I hope you like it, this is the first time I'm writing for Severus x Reader.

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

In the Great Hall, the breakfast banquet was served. Their students eagerly chattered among friends over good food and drink before classes. On the other hand at the High Table, small talk and occasional personal questions were exchanged.

That’s until the owls, in turn, the mail, came for the day.

Their tiny but sturdy claws carried various packages from letters, gifts, newspapers, and journal subscriptions. Among them, one particular barn owl was heading straight toward the High Table holding a distinct red letter.

From afar, Severus could see the owl, ignoring the House Tables, and coming straight for him. It wasn’t his owl. No, it was your owl. If it was your owl then…

“Oh dear,” Severus said,

By his side, Minerva, who was perusing her copy of the Wizarding World News stopped, to glance at him as the owl dropped the angry red letter above his plate.

“Severus,” she asked, the attention of other professors turned to him, “Is that a Howler?”

“Who would send our dear Severus a Howler?” Filius asked after,

You. His wife. Would send a Howler. You, who were undeniably cross after being forgotten.

Your owl chirped, Severus presented to her a treat, which she happily accepted before flying off. He stared at the Howler mentally preparing for the reprimand about to happen when Dumbledore said.

“Well go on, Severus, open it,” he urged, “I heard it is unwise to leave Howlers unanswered,”

So, he did.

“Severus Tobias Snape!” your voice echoed throughout the Hall, the student's attention on him, “You forgot about the move! I reminded you a thousand times when it was, and you still didn’t come.”

This time the Great Hall was quiet. Their attention focused on the tirade given to their most hated professor.

Let’s just say he wanted to die then and there.

“I know you hate handing your classes off to someone else, but I at least thought you’d make an exception for me!” you shouted at him in mind, “I moved across the continent for god sake! Do you know how much stuff I had? No! Do you know hard it was to transport all my boxes into the Manor? No! It was hard and that was with magic already. The only good thing you did was leaving the portkey because if you didn’t, I wouldn’t have been able to enter the damned Manor and would be standing outside of it looking like a fool!”

The Howler paused.

“I love you but if you don’t come home tonight to help me unpack, you’re going to find yourself locked out of your own house.”

The Howler combusted thereafter.

His colleagues were in shock at the message conveyed. His students stared in a mix of horror, amusement, and curiosity. On the other hand, he was so screwed. His composure slowly faltered upon deliberating what to do and quickly decided on the appropriate course of action.

To go home to you.

“If you’d excuse me for the day, Professor,” Severus addressed Dumbledore, standing up from his seat, “I need to make it up to someone,”

“You can take the rest of the week off, Severus,” Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling in wonder, “It seems you have some groveling to do,”

“That I do, Professor,” he answered, walking away then sighing, “That I do,”

Part 2 is up 💖

[buckyalpine]

Catch Me If You Can 2/3

Mob!Bucky x single mom police officer

I am so happy you all loved these two so here is more from this AU. I had the story half in mind but wasn’t sure if people would feel it, once again, LMK if you want more! 

Warnings: fluffffff, single mom reader, crappy ex, Mob Bucky is a whole ass warning 

Part 1

Part 3 

-

You woke up to the smell of fresh coffee, sun pouring in the giant room, your body still aching from the night before but the peaceful rest proved to be helpful. You smiled at the steaming cup that sat by your bedside table, picking up the hand drawn card that was placed beside it; giant heart coloured red was in the middle with the words Get Well Soon decorated in bold letters. You grinned, opening the card to read your sons hand writing. 

Dear mommy,

Get well soon. Uncle Bucky says he took good care of you and that you’ll arrest him once you’re all better. He bought me a kinder egg. He seems nice. Maybe give him a running head start. 

Love and kisses and cuddles,

Jordan 

PS: Can we stay a little longer? Peter is still trying to beat me in Mario Kart

On the side of the card were a bunch of other messages, each signed by Bucky’s men. You shook your head at the signatures, your son having asked every one of Bucky’s men to sign the card, well wishes from them all scattered across the paper. A knock at the door broke you away from the card as Bucky peeked in, happy to see you were awake. 

“Where did he get art supplies” You snorted, while Bucky walked in, carrying a tray of eggs and toast. You whispered a quiet thank you as he set it down for you, taking a seat by the edge of the bed. 

“Had Steve pick some up” Bucky couldn't help but chuckle, remembering the way your son had asked him to sign the card before proceeding to go around the house with a glittery pen. 

“He loves to draw” you hummed, tracing over the bright, colourful letters on the smooth paper, the materials clearly from a higher quality art store. As nice as everything was at the moment, tension lingered in the air; the question of how you ended up in this position in the first place still left unanswered. 

“What happened” Bucky spoke softly while you turned away not meeting his gaze. Your jaw clenched as your hand skimmed over the bandage that covered your gash, a dull ache still radiating through your side. 

“It was-nothing” You lied poorly, unsure of to explain the situation to Bucky of all people, “Just some people trying to scare me” 

He didn’t believe it for a second. 

“This was personal doll” Bucky tilted your chin to meet his eyes, knowing damn well even some of the more unruly gang members in the area wouldn’t dare attack a police officer in their home, especially when they had a child. “Who hurt you”

“It doesn’t matter” You shook your head feeling helpless, knowing the problem wasn’t something you’d ever be able to easily get rid of. Bucky chewed his lip, deciding not to press the matter further but he couldn’t help the curiosity that still picked his brain. 

“Jordan came to me...didn’t call 911″ He cocked his head, wondering why your son would chose to come to  his club over easily calling 911 to help you, something you would have surely taught him. (Especially after he had kidnapped him...)

“He goes to people he can trust” You stated, nibbling on the toast, groaning at the grin that spread across Bucky’s face, “Don’t get it twisted, that doesn't mean I trust you” 

“Of course, officer” 

God, he was such a little shit. You hated the way his charming laugh made your insides giddy along with the way he was taking care of both you and your son. As if he could read your thoughts on que, he spoke before you could mentioning leaving. “Stay a little longer”

“Bucky-”

He shook his head, not letting you speak further, urging you to finish breakfast instead. 

“Your home was compromised, the locks were broken off. Let Sam and Steve clear some stuff up a bit and reinstall some new locks. They’re on it right now” 

You wanted to protest but you also knew there was no arguing with him, if all past encounters with his illegal antics proved anything. When he set his mind to something, he did it. This was one of the few times you were secretly happy he was so hard headed. 

“Alright” You smiled softly, cocking your brow at the smirk that danced on his lips immediately after. 

“Can’t promise I won’t give myself a spare, doll” Bucky winked leaving you to finish eating and rest up while he quietly made his way out to make sure your house was taken care of. 

As promised, Sam and Steve had gone above and beyond, cleaning and patching up all the damages, including replacing the broken photo frames that were smashed to bits. The locks they added were far stronger than the ones you had from the Home Depot, clearly purchased from somewhere you had no idea existed. Bucky had dropped you home along with a very excited Jordan who felt like he had Christmas twice this year, hauling bags of art supplies behind him.

“Y’know this changes nothing” You reminded him,  your cheeks warming up at the way he bit his lip, giving you a cocky smirk. 

Little shit. 

“Wouldn’t have it any other way, doll” 

*****

As expected, gang activity was back up and you were back to your job of investigating the latest nonsense Bucky was up to. You seemed to still be the only one concerned about stopping what he was doing while the rest of the department pretended not to see a damn thing. Most of the day would alternate between you trying to do your job and being told to lay off the mob boss. 

The worst was the little traitor that lived under your own roof. 

“Uncle Bucky is kinda like Batman” Jordan stated while you gave him a pointed look, continuing to make him breakfast which now consisted of scrambled eggs and toast, just like how uncle Bucky makes them. 

“Explain”  You knew you were going to regret asking as soon as it came out of your mouth.

“Well, he’s rich. Very rich. He likes to help people. He wears a suit. He stops the bad guys”

“He is a bad guy Jordan” You had your hands on your hip, challenging Bucky’s latest swimfan. 

“But the badder guys! That has to count for something” He peeked at you with hopeful eyes before turning back to his toast, nervously poking at it. “Can I play with Peter?” 

“Peter” You frowned, not remembering any of Jordan’s friends with that name. “Peter who?”

“Paarkerr” He drawled out, blinking up at you while you connected the pieces together, your eyes growing wide. 

“Absolutely not” 

“But moooom” Jordan gave you his best puppy pout, “None of the kids in my class are as good, you told me I should challenge myself” 

“That doesn’t mean you find competition in the house of the Mafia, Jordan!” You scoffed while he slumped his shoulders, hopping off his chair to get ready for school. You knew he was guilting you, acting as if you had refused to feed him for the rest of his life, staring out the car window like a sad puppy on his way to the pound. You kissed him goodbye, promising him you’d “think about it” before driving over to the prescient, most of the day filled with paperwork, a part of your actually thinking about letting Jordan play video games with Peter before you shook some sense back into your head. 

Just because he saved you once didn’t mean you had to let your son play with his junior henchmen. 

*****

You sipped on some tea as evening rolled around after helping Jordan with homework, the rest of his night spent using the newest fancy art supplies he’d gotten. You no longer paid attention to the show on TV, frowning at the unmarked truck that had circled the block twice. Then three times. You carefully reached for a gun tucked under the sofa and stood by the side of the window just out of sight. The SUV came to a stop near your driveway; uncalled for butterflies erupting in your tummy when you realized who it was. 

Bucky stepped out of the truck while you opened the door, your son much quicker than you, slipping past your arm and darting straight outside. 

“Uncle Bucky!!” Jordan grinned, bounding towards the all black SUV, ignoring your calls for him to slow down, maybe not run with so much passion and admiration for a man who had once kidnapped him and taken care of you and nursed you back to health and changed your locks and why the hell were you feeling hot and fuzzy right now. 

“Hey kid” Bucky smiled while you huffed, making your way over, poorly masking the smile that tugged at your lips. 

“Did you get lost Barnes, or were you here to kidnap me today instead?” You teased while Jordan slipped back into the truck to talk to his second favorite “Uncle” Steve. 

“You wound me doll, y’know, I’m not just a heartless gang leader” his facial expression almost the exact same as what Jordan had given you earlier. “Just came to see how you were” He said sincerely, not realizing his heart rate had calmed as soon as he saw you and your little one safe in your home. 

“We’re safe” You nodded, your heart fluttering at the way his gaze softened, scanning the area just to be sure there wasn’t anyone he didn’t recognize lingering near by. 

“Good to know” Bucky murmured, giving you a once over before getting back in the truck and leaving for the night. He didn’t like that he was still in the dark over what your story was. He didn’t like not knowing who hurt you; they were still out there and it made him sick. You didn’t deserve that. Jordan didn’t deserve that. You didn’t need to know that he had done some digging, learning a bit more about you but not enough to get answers. 

You also didn’t need to know that his unannounced visits were more frequent that you realized, sometimes a car circling around Jordan’s school, sometimes a quick roll around the block at midnight. 

Steve and Sam were only able to contain themselves for so long, making their own betting pool over how this would all end. 

They hoped it’d end with them getting a nephew. 

Maybe one day. 

*****

6 missed calls

4 voicemails

100+ text messages

Your jaw clenched watching your phone ring again, the No Caller ID screen shining bright as you ignored the call. Of course you still had the other issue to deal with. One that you had kept hidden ever since you moved to the city. One that had followed and found you over and over again, even after you managed to change your number and address.

The nightmare never stopped.

“You gonna get that? Someone’s been trynna to reach you all day” Your boss piqued as he walked by, curiously eyeing your phone that had been ringing the entire morning and afternoon, eventually muffled when you stuffed it in your bag.  

“It’s fine” You gave him a tight lipped smile, waiting for him to pass by before calling your son’s school and making sure he was still there, informing them to not let anyone else pick him up but you. 

As you drove home with him, you were on edge, your nerves ready to snap, heart rate spiking erratically. Jordan chatted your ear off about how he was still the reigning champion of his video game but you couldn’t help but feel a sense of uneasiness, the same feeling you got the day Bucky rescued you. The same day you were attacked. 

You just knew. 

The front door was still locked as you inserted the key. 

The lights were all still turned off.

But you knew. 

The hairs on your neck stood up as soon as you entered your home, the smell of alcohol enough for you to know who was already inside.

“Babycheeekss” 

Your stomach flipped, the blood in your veins turning into ice as he stepped out from the shadows, his feet crunching over the glass from the window he had broken into. 

Not again. 

“Baby, go upstairs” you whispered to your son, who was reluctant to leave your side, refusing to look at the man that was supposedly his father. You nudged him, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze urging him to leave; the last thing you needed was for him to be further traumatized. Jordan shakily made his way up, stopping at the top of the stairs so he’d still be able to see you, reaching for the baseball bat he had kept by his room. 

Uncle Bucky would be proud of me, he thought, his small hands tightening around the handle, fiercely protective over his mama. 

“Why are you here” You hissed, flashbacks clouding your mind over the way he had broken into your house and didn’t take no for an answer. 

He’d rather have you dead than live peacefully single. 

“To see my son” Your ex shrugged, taking another casual step towards you while you backed up, slowly reaching for your gun. “I mean, he is my son, isn’t he? Unless you think there’s reason to believe he isn’t” Andrew sneered, while you scoffed, your hands trembling, hoping Jordan was safe in his room before you drew your weapon. The last thing you needed was for him to get hurt while protecting the both of you. 

Before you could do anything,  the front door swung open with a bang, your ex’s eyes growing wide, frozen in place, focused on the man that was now behind you. 

You turned around, gasping at the soft baby blue eyes that were peering down at you, his pink lips this time with a deep frown instead of his typical boyish smirk. Bucky gently tugged your arm, pulling you behind him, keeping you far away from your ex who was staring daggers at the both of you. 

“What the fu-”

“Stay away from her” Bucky growled while you ex scoffed, taking a step forward instead. 

“And who the hell are you? Her latest fuck? A new boytoy to play with?” Your ex challenged, unable to hide the quiver in his voice. If not for the seriousness of the situation, Bucky would have laughed. It was a valid question. Who was he to you anyway?

“Mommy?” Jordan padded down the stairs, instantly rushing to your side, his worries washing away when he saw who had come to the rescue. 

“Stay upstairs Jordan” You tried to urge him back upstairs but he stayed rooted in place, not willing to leave if there was someone trying to hurt you. 

“Let me see my son-” Andrew tired to take a step forward but Bucky wasn't having any of it, keeping the both of you behind him, and pushing your ex away. 

“Don’t” Bucky growled, keeping his itching hands away from his gun. It would have taken him all but 1 second to put a bullet between Andrews eyebrows and have the body disposed of within the half hour but he didn’t want to either of you to have to witness that. 

“Hey bud” Your ex tried to reach out for Jordan again, hoping he’d get some leverage if he got him in his hands. “C’mon, you missed me, didn’t ya?” 

Jordan trembled, his small hand clutching onto the back of Bucky’s suit jacket, the other still holding his bat. He shook his head, tightening his grip when he saw the anger flash across his fathers eyes. Bucky reached behind, taking your hand in his, holding it firmly in his grip hoping to ground you. 

“Leave” Bucky stared at your ex, nodding towards the door, giving him a final warning to leave with his life. Andrew glared at him before narrowing his eyes at you and Jordan while he silently left, the look he gave you telling you this wouldn’t be the last time he’d see you. Or so he thought. 

As soon as he was out the door, Bucky immediately turned to you, his hand cupping your face, scanning you up and down for any signs of injury, his features softening when he didn’t see anything. 

“You’re coming with me” Bucky stated, taking your hand in his again, ignoring the way his heart was still beating out of his chest. You wanted to argue against it but you didn’t feel safe in your own home and a hotel didn’t exactly seem like a safer option. 

Perhaps sleeping with the enemy wasn’t so bad...

At least sleeping at his house. 

You cocked an eyebrow, glancing at the door that was perfectly in tact, no signs of a forced entry from when Bucky entered the house. How the hell did he get in. 

“How did you-”

“Told you I’d make myself a spare” Bucky grinned, twirling a small gold key between his fingers, itching to wrap his arms around you. He squeezed his hand to his side instead, letting you go up to pack some things to take to his place while he waited for you outside. 

-

You had agreed to stay at his place until the window as fixed and a security system was installed throughout your house.

Then you agreed to stay for an additional week just to be safe.

Then that turned into two weeks to make sure Jordan was extra safe. 

Then that turned into three weeks while Bucky took care of business. He didn’t tell you what that meant but he promised you’d never have to worry about Andrew again. 

The nature of your relationship was confusing.

You spent time with Bucky, sometimes with Jordan and sometimes all by yourself while both boys ditched you to do something that would probably leave you reeling. There had even been a number of times where Bucky himself had gone to pick up Jordan from school, your little one more than happy to ride in the huge dark truck, any chance he got. 

You had no idea what to do with yourself, screaming internally on a daily basis, wondering why someone who did 101 illegal things a day made you feel giddy, feel safe, feel butterflies, all while quietly tossing a body off into the lake. 

It didn’t matter what you felt. 

It didn’t matter than his charming smile made you melt.

It didn’t matter than he took care of you in every way possible, not once looking at you in a way that was disrespectful. 

Nothing mattered. 

You were both still too different for anything to happen. 

Sweet as Bucky was, nothing would happen between the both of you.

That's just how things had to be. 

You reminded yourself that every night, whenever Jordan rambled on for hours over how much fun he had with uncle Bucky, how he taught him self defense, bought him more art supplies, beat Peter at video games again, got used as a human volley ball between uncle Steve and Sam. 

That's just how things had to be.

Then why were you still in his house. 

- 

“I don’t think I like the name Uncle Bucky anymore” 

“You don’t, huh?” Bucky smirked at his little side kick, your son no longer paying attention to his homework which he now often did in Bucky’s office. He took a sip from his apple house, swirling the ice around the glass cup just as Bucky did with his whiskey, taking another long drag before setting it down. 

“We look alike” Jordan stated, looking up at the mob boss while they both sat on the office couch, neither of them focused on their work anymore. Jordan reached over for the kinder egg that sat on the table, a treat Bucky had bought him for doing well on his math test. 

“We do” Bucky nodded, while Jordan smiled in satisfaction, munching on the chocolate, scooting over a little closer to Bucky. 

“Some people say you look like my dad” He spoke a little more quietly this time, inching closer until he was pressed against Bucky’s side. 

“Uh-huh” Bucky watched Jordan curiously while he assembled the toy, chewing on his bottom lip. 

“Sooo...”

“Soo?” Bucky waited for him to continue while Jordan fidgeted with his kinder egg toy, his eyes now trained on his lap, worried about what the answer would be. 

“Can I call you dad instead?” His voice was small, wavering slightly, unsure how Bucky would react. He held his breath, not daring to look anywhere else, hoping his request wouldn’t upset the mob boss. He didn’t need to know that he’d already been calling Bucky dad in his head for a while.

What would da-uncle Bucky say? 

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[supercorpkid]

Future History

Supergirl. Kara Danvers x Reader.

Word Count: 3735.

Notes: Literally no one asked for this but I was in dire need to write angst or I'd die. So here, have the saddest story I could come up with.

A soft tap on your window is barely registered by your clogged up ears (and nose). There's nothing that could pull you from your bed now; You think you might just physically can't. It doesn't matter—you're on the fifth floor, and if someone managed to knock on your window, it could only mean one thing: it's her.

The tears falling from your eyes and into your pillow don't stop for a second, even when the window creaks open and she glides in, her presence heavy with sorrow; you can't bring yourself to stop crying.

"Baby," Her tone is agonizing, sad, inconsolable. Exactly as you feel right now. 

"Leave." It's the sole thing you can say. One word you've reserved for her, though your every thought is a painful echo of her name.

You can't see yourself or almost anything at all, with your eyes all blurred from the tears, but you can imagine what Kara is seeing right now. Your body curled up around itself, jagged and weak. Your pillow soaked, hair and clothes damp from hours of crying. You're not sure how there are any tears left in you.

She does leave, but only for a second. Soon she returns, a bottle of water in her hand, a futile gesture of care. You snatch it from her and fling it across the room with all the force your broken heart can muster.

"Goddamn it, leave!" You demand, voice raw and furious. 

Kara flinches, her face contorted in pain, and you notice she is not wearing the Supergirl coat of arm's anymore. She looks young, weak, normal. She looks exactly like a Danvers. Like the person who lied to you, who broke you. The one you trusted, loved—no, still love, though the thought makes you want to vomit. 

She looks like your Kara. Not-yours, never-really-completely-yours. She looks young and weak and stupid and you hate her face, her voice, her heart. You hate Kara Danvers even more than you hate Supergirl right now. You hate everything about her, and you hate that your heart refuses to let her go.

She drops to her knees beside your bed, her hand trembling as she wipes away one of the many tears sliding down your face. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, and her voice is so raw, so fragile, that it cuts deeper than any blade. You’ve seen her cry before, but never like this. Never with a pain that matches your own. “I’m so, so sorry,” she says again, and the words are like salt in a wound that will probably never heal.

“No.” Your voice is barely a whisper, but it’s all you have left. You slap her hand away, your body recoiling from her touch as though it burns. “You’re not forgiven.” You couldn’t forgive her even if you wanted to. Your heart is a twisted, broken thing, mangled beyond recognition. 

"I'm sorry, I know it was the most awful timing—"

"Are you really gonna talk about timing in a time like this?" God, really! The timing is awful, is that what she really wants to talk about? 

Not about how you were there, on one knee, ring on your hand, your heart laid bare, and the suffocating silence that followed. The way your question hung in the air, unanswered, as you knelt there, dying a thousand deaths. Not about the fact you've never heard a silence quite so loud. Not a word from her or any of your so-called friends.

"No, you're right. I'm sorry —" She says again and it means nothing. All of her apologies mean nothing at all to you and you wish she would just shut up and leave.

"Oh my God, stop apologizing!" You sit up in bed and get a glimpse of yourself in the mirror behind the door. You flinch at the image of yourself reflected there. Sure, you feel dreadful and rough, yet you had no idea your face could embody your feelings so perfectly. 

Your cheeks burn, your eyes are swollen, and you know she sees it all. The evidence of how long you’ve been crying, of how deeply she’s wounded you. Since the time she left you there, replaying the question on your mind over and over. Did you say it right? Kara, will you marry me? Kara? Why is everyone looking so damn sorry for you? Why are you frozen on your knees?

“Okay, okay. I’m s—” She catches herself, silencing the apology that’s on her lips. She knows it’s useless. “Tell me what you need. Tell me what I can do, baby. Tell me how to make this right.”

“You lied,” you say, and your voice is so small, so weak, that it makes you feel like a frightened child. Kara’s face crumples, her eyes squeezed shut against the pain of your words. “For so long. I—God, Kara, I proposed!” The anger surges back, bitter and overwhelming, choking you. “Do you understand that? I thought we were on the same page! I thought we had it all.”

“We did,” she insists, her voice a broken plea. “We do.”

"How could you do that to me? How could you look into my face every single day and lie about who you are? How could you ask all of our friends to do the same?"

"Y/N, I was going to tell you."

"When? At our wedding? After I said yes and signed the damn papers? WHEN WERE YOU GOING TO TELL ME YOU ARE SUPERGIRL, KARA DANVERS?"

You expect to be met with the same silence you did after you proposed, you're sure she won't have a response to your angry shouted words at her, but oh boy, she does now. Oh, but she now knows exactly what to say when a few hours ago she forgot the word 'yes' existed in her vocabulary.

"I did it to protect you," You scoff. "You have no idea, do you? How dangerous is it just knowing who I am? Alex," You scowl at her sister's name, but she continues. "Alex was kidnapped, trapped inside a tank and almost drowned so people would know my name. Lena was used by her own family. Brainy was drugged and had his mind erased —"

"And so what? You thought I would cave? You thought I wouldn't be able to keep your secret?"

"What? No! I — I didn't wanna see you get hurt."

“Because I would've, you know,” Your voice cracks, the truth of it shattering you all over again. "died for you. I would have."

"I know. I know, and I couldn't let that happen. I love you more than anything. More than anyone I have ever loved, I couldn't let anything bad happen to you because of me."

"So you did it yourself." You clean your face aggressively, knowing damn well you're just making space for more tears to wet it. "You couldn't let anyone hurt me, so you hurt me yourself."

"Baby—"

“No. No more ‘baby,’ no more excuses, no more lies.” Your voice is a deadly whisper, a divisiveness that crushes her. "You know what, I can't do this. Get the fuck out of my face." She winces when you curse, and the word feels right in your mouth like it never felt before. 

Kara stumbles out of the bedroom— Your bedroom that somehow doesn't feel like yours anymore. It feels empty because the only person that ever made it feel like home is now being kicked out of it. 

You hate this, you hate it all.

You hate every feeling coursing through you, tearing you apart. You hate the anger, the heartbreak, the taste of your own tears. You hate the slow, agonizing thud of your heart as it struggles to keep beating when all you want is for it to stop already.

But most of all, you hate how heavy the ring feels in your pocket. 

You've never had a full-on couch. Just a loveseat that has served you just fine for when you were alone or with a partner. It shocks you to find Kara curled up in that tiny, inadequate space when you walk into your living room first thing in the morning.

The sight of her sends a ping of anger through you, tightening your chest. You march over and poke her arm, your voice harsh as you snap, "What the hell are you doing?"

"There was nowhere else for me to stay." Kara’s voice is soft, almost meek, as if she truly believes that’s what you meant. You raise an eyebrow, not bothering to hide your disbelief. "But I stayed anyway."

"No shit, genius." You turn on your heels, heading straight for the coffee pot, the anger simmering just below the surface. "Why the hell did you stay? I’m pretty sure I told you to fuck off last night."

You don’t look back, but you don’t need to. You can practically feel the way she winces at your words. That’s how well you know her—or at least, how well you thought you did.

"Well, you—you told me to get out of your face." There’s a hesitation in her voice, and when you finally turn around, you can’t believe what you see. How can the mightiest superhero on the planet look like this? Like a fragile, delicate thing that needs your protection, your love.

"Pretty sure you’re still here, all over my face."

Kara takes a deep breath, her voice trembling as she tries to explain. "I couldn’t leave you like that, Y/N. You looked so, so broken."

You blink at her because the only reason you looked like that was her. She was the one that let her damage damage you. She was the one that came into your life, broke all your barriers, made you open up and love her dearly and deeply, and lied, and lied, and lied. Kara was the one that made you her future history from day one when she decided to deceit you repeatedly. 

"Was any of it true?" It's what comes out of your mouth. You're not even done with the question and she is already opening her mouth to answer, but you cut her short. "Don't lie again. Don't tell me what I want to hear. Tell me the truth, Kara Danvers. All of those moments, all that you gave me, all that staring at me starry-eyed, was it all true?"

"Y/N," Kara takes a tentative step closer, her pink lips parted, her eyes brimming with tears that mirror your own. "All of it was the most real I’ve ever been in my life." She collapses into a chair halfway between you, like the weight of her own words is too much to bear. "Some people know Supergirl. Some people know Kara Danvers. And very few  know both."

You swallow hard, trying to choke back your tears. You, apparently, know none.

"You know me. Kara. Not Kara Danvers, not Kara Zor-El. The Kara that no one ever got to see. The one that laughs at dirty jokes, and dances in her underwear to no songs. The one that eats cold pizza in the morning, and can't sleep without my feet touching yours. You know how I like my coffee, my favorite songs, you know the words I hate, how many freckles I have and how ugly I look when I cry."

"You look… alright." You shrug, your voice flat, detached.

Her eyes soften at your words. "You know about my nightmares, and how to touch me so I feel safe. Actually, you know how to touch me in any way I need. You saw so much more than journalist Kara Danvers and Alex's young sister. You knew me better than anyone who's seen Supergirl in action—"

You recoil at the mention of her alias and your anger returns. More lies, even more lies to draw you in. When is that going to stop?

"Sorry," she murmurs, the apology falling flat.

The coffee machine beeps, signaling that it’s done. You move mechanically, pouring the coffee into two mugs, adding cream and a disgusting amount of sugar to hers the way you always do. But instead of handing it to her, you place it on the counter, a silent gesture that screams the distance between you.

Kara stands and approaches you cautiously, as if approaching a wounded animal. "Tell me what you’re thinking," she whispers, her voice barely audible, filled with fear.

You swallow the bitter words clawing at your throat, because the way she’s speaking—so submissive, so frightened—makes you hesitate.

Finally, in a voice so quiet it’s almost drowned by the silence, you say, "I wish I could unrecall how we almost had it all."

Kara’s eyes are filled with tears that she’s desperately trying to hold back. She’s always been the strong one, the one who carries the weight of the world on her shoulders, but now, she looks so fragile, so utterly human. It’s a sight that tugs at something deep within you, a part of you that still aches for her despite everything.

“I was tired,” she finally whispers, her voice trembling. “tired of pretending, of lying, of hiding who I am. But I was a lot more terrified of losing you.”

You feel a pang of sympathy, but it’s quickly followed by the anger that has been bubbling inside you. “You should have thought of that before you lied to me for years,” you snap, your voice harsher than you intended.

Kara winces as if your words have physically struck her. She looks down at her hands, clenching and unclenching them nervously. “I know,” she says softly. “I know I messed up. I know I hurt you in a way that might be unforgivable. But baby, I need you to understand… I didn’t lie because I wanted to. I lied because I was scared. Scared of what it would mean if you knew. Scared that you’d look at me the way you’re looking at me now—like I’m a stranger.”

You sigh, running a hand through your hair in frustration. “How else am I supposed to look at you? You kept such a huge part of yourself from me, Kara. How am I supposed to trust anything you say?”

She steps a bit closer, cautiously. “Please, just… just let me explain,” she pleads, her eyes searching yours for any sign of willingness to listen. “I know I should have told you. I know that. But every time I thought about it, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t bear the thought of you being in danger because of who I am. Of you being a target just because you’re with me. And it also terrified me to think of you not loving all of me.”

“That wasn’t your decision to make,” your voice waver when you realize exactly what you are mad about. You're not mad about the fact that she is Supergirl. Supergirl is a nice person. A hero. A heavenly sent goddess that helps people. It's nice that your amazing, loving girlfriend is also all of that. The problem is that your amazing-loving-girlfriend never once thought about the rest of your lives together. “We were supposed to be a team. We were supposed to face things together. But you decided for both of us, and you didn’t even give me a choice.”

"I know." Kara’s face falls, but she takes another step closer anyway. “I’m so sorry,” she whispers, her voice breaking. “I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, and I know I’ve hurt you more than anyone ever has." She is too close now, you're sure, as her heat irradiates through her skin and you feel it on your own body. She is tentatively and scared, and still somehow brave, when she reaches for your face and cleans the single tear under your eye, even though she knows there's a fat chance you're just going to tell her to fuck off again.

"I can't let you lie to me again," You feel weak just trying to get your point across while she touches your face like this. Because your skin wants it, needs her touch, craves for even more. Longs for soothing, and begs for love. Her love. Her mouth and her hands and her only.

"I won't. No more secrets, no more lies, no more hiding." Her hand snakes from your face to your neck and she slowly pulls you into her chest. "No more hurting you. Ever again." She lets out a shaky breath. "I can't see you hurting like this ever again."

"God, Kara." 

Your face on her chest feels like it belongs there. As if all the pieces fit when you are right there. The warmth of her arms around you feels like coming home and how can you fight this?

"I love you. I love you so much." She is crying more now, you're sure. And so your arms finally embrace her too. "Please let me make it up to you. I'll spend every single day for the rest of our lives proving myself worthy of you."

By now you're clinging to Kara as if clinging for your life. Feeling the steady beat of her heart against your ear. The sound is grounding, reminding you that despite everything, she’s here—she’s real, and she’s yours, in all her flawed, messy humanity. 

“I don’t know how to move past this,” you admit quietly, your voice muffled against her chest. “I want to, I want to so badly but everything hurts. Being without you is so painful, but remembering all the lies…"

Kara holds you stronger, as if she’s afraid to let go, as if releasing you would mean losing you forever. “You don’t have to forgive me right away,” she whispers. “I know I’ve shattered your trust, and it’s going to take time to rebuild it. But I’m not going anywhere, Y/N. I’m here, and I’m not giving up on us.”

There’s a long pause, both of you clinging to each other as if holding onto both sides of a wrecked lifeboat is better than letting go. You know she did it to protect you, you know she was scared of losing you. Hell, you were scared of losing her too! The whole relationship had been nothing but perfect. No one has ever cared and loved you the way Kara does and you know that. You want to believe that this love you share is strong enough to weather this storm, but the doubt gnaws at you, a relentless ache in your chest.

You search her face, looking for any sign of the woman you fell in love with, the woman who made you laugh, who held you when you cried, who made you feel like you were the most important person in the world. She’s still there, beneath the layers of hurt and betrayal. She’s still the woman who caught your heart, even if she also broke it.

“I need time,” you tell her, your voice trembling with the weight of everything you’ve been holding in. “I need time to figure out how to move on from here and if we can get back to where we were.”

Kara nods, her expression a mix of relief and sorrow. “Take all the time you need. I’ll be waiting for you. No matter how long it takes.” She places a gentle kiss on the top of your head. "I'll do anything for you, Y/N. Anything at all."

You step back, needing some space to breathe, to think. Kara lets you go, her arms falling to her sides, but she doesn’t move away. She stands there, watching you with a mixture of hope and fear, her vulnerability laid bare.

“I don’t want to lose you,” you confess, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I don’t want to feel like this either. I don’t want to be constantly wondering if you’re keeping something else from me.”

“I understand,” Kara says softly. “and I promise, no more secrets. No more lies. I’ll be completely honest with you from now on, about everything. Even if it makes me look bad, or sound horrible. I'll tell you everything.”

"Did you clog up my parents' toilet last time we were there?" She tries not to laugh, but fails. You presented it as a very serious question and she can't help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. 

"Yeah." Her cheeks burn red. "But not like you're imagining." You raise an eyebrow at her. "Come on, baby, the chicken was soooo bland even I couldn't eat it. So I flushed down the toilet."

A small smile appears on your lips because God, she is such a doofus.

"That fish your dad and I said we fished ourselves?" You nod at her, remembering perfectly, "Store bought. He's been doing it for years and your mom hasn't noticed."

"I can't believe it! Why does he stay in the river for hours then?"

"He calls it 'peace of mind', but it's just so he can have some time off from her."

"Hm," You think about it for a second. "Do you do the same? That time I wanted to see you and you told me you were going on a trip with Alex…"

"I was unconscious for three days so Alex had to make something up." Your mouth drops, you never realize how much of that you were unaware about. "Maybe I can tell you everything?" She points to the couch. "Would that help?"

"It can't hurt." You shrug, making your way there with your coffee mug. You pass her on the way, and she reaches for your free hand, like she always does. You let her take it, her fingers intertwining with yours in a gesture that feels both familiar and foreign.

“Maybe we can start small.” you suggest, your voice tentative, while looking at your hands together.

Kara nods, “Small,” she agrees with an equal small voice. “I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give, Y/N. I just want to be with you, however that looks.”

You sit on the couch and nod at her, "alright, start from the beginning."

"My name is Kara Zor-El, 24 years ago my planet, Krypton, was in serious peril. My cousin, Kal-El was sent to a planet called Earth for his own safety and protection. You may know his story, the story you don't know is that I was sent to protect him…"

[gyuaesp]

a new kind of love mingyu x reader

genres: angst, unrequited love, not proofread (sorry huhu), reader is so in love with mingyu it’s suffocating but mingyu can’t provide it back.

wc: exactly 400

idk guys i just looovveee making sad unrequited love writes… its so fun… this one is short as well but pls do enjoy :)))

it’s been two years, fifteen hours, and 27 seconds since mingyu last messaged you.

through those years, your mind pondered about what you might’ve done wrong. was it because you tried to reciprocate a relationship that wasn’t even there? it couldn’t have been. if he hated you that much why didn’t he just tell you instead of leaving? something wasn’t right in his mind.

you had so many questions for mingyu that were left unanswered. all of them were about love, heartbreak, and resentment.

maybe all of the “i love you” messages sent when you two still remembered each other’s faces didn’t matter anymore. maybe he got over it, became a dad, and grew up. maybe you can’t let go because you’re unable to look at another person without trying to make out their features into his.

you sacrificed everything to be in love. you bled, you lost, and you wept—but why didn’t he stay?

were you not worthy of being in love? were you born to be alone? was mingyu sent down to earth to help make you realize that statement?

you still remember the night you confessed. it’s a core memory for gods sake.

the cold night on your balcony. a cigarette in one hand and beer can in the other. you could still feel the goosebumps on your skin every time this comes up in your mind.

the way mingyu looked at you under the moonlight. the sound of cars zooming past becoming muffled by his gaze. your drunken eyes making out the perfect symmetry of his face, the way his mouth was slightly open with a gasp of realization. he was in love.

you still remembered the taste of his lips mixed with the bitterness of beer. his pillows for lips going against yours. the roughness of your sheets going against your skin as he went down on your marked body.

the feeling of euphoria in that room still remains. the emptiness and pain lingers without his presence. you were a mess without him. the small apartment, now scattered with clothes on the couch and empty bottles, longing for love just like you.

as you opened the letter left on your doorstep labeled with your name, a small huge piece of your soul crushed seeing that it was mingyu’s wedding invitation.

the love you have for him will stay in your blood, even if it wasn’t meant to be.

[airbendertendou]

puppy eyes ♥︎ banda sunato

synopsis ; a familiar face greets you at the jack of hearts game and an even more famliliar feeling of fear springs inside you at the sight of him.

possibly out of character! bff!urumi bc i love her , obsession , poor attempt at writing a bad / yandere-type character lmao , puppy as a nickname

if you have a blank blog [no bio, no user, no header or profile pic, nothing reblogged, etc] do not interact with my content. you will be blocked.

—— ♧ ♡ ♢ ♤ ——

Pairing up with Urumi wasn’t your smartest idea, admittedly. But, when she waltzed up to you so confidently during a club’s game — she was wearing a light pink skirt, then — you could only mutter an okay. 

It wasn’t a surprise when you were the only surviving team — not really.

You spent your days eating expired canned goods and wandering through abandoned malls with Urumi pulling you by your wrist. She hated when her clothes got dirty — hated when blood stains contaminated her new lace or the frills of her skirt. Leading you to a prison building, Urumi swayed in her blue dress excitedly. A heart’s game — she was too good at those. The brunette turned, her hair parted so that you could help buckle her collar shut.

The brand new shirt you wore blended in with everyone else’s — grabbing new clothes while on the run from the King of Spades was everyone’s first instinct, apparently. A man in overalls twitched nervously as his eyes scoured the group that’d gathered for the game. A white hooded figure stood to his left, leaning against the wall boredly as you and Urumi chose your own spot to wait at.

In only minutes — it felt like longer — the game closed as the last member took a seat directly across from you. Urumi laid her chin on your shoulder as the rules began to play on the screen in the middle of the room, the familiar automated voice drowning out any questions you had. Looking around the room, your eyes met shining ones that were staring directly at you.

A sliver of fear crawled down your spine, dropping into every available crevice as you gulped. He tilted his head, smirk lifting the right side of his mouth as the gleam from that day took over his eyes. You don’t think you’d ever forget that look — you’d never forget how he stared ; how he didn’t let you leave his eyesight for one second.

“We’ll be safe together, hm, [name]?” Urumi murmured into your ear. Her question went unanswered as your throat grew more and more parched the longer he kept his gaze on you. Urumi crept closer to you, mouth snug against your ear as she frowned. “[Name]?”

“I know him.” You breathe out the sentence before thinking. Gulping again, you blink frantically as you try to shift your eyes away from his. “That guy that just came in.”

Urumi hums as she looks ahead — it’s a miniscule change, but he’s frowning at how close she is to you. One look at the screen that has everyone’s picture tells her just who he is. “His name is familiar.”

“He’s been on the news,” a woman wearing yellow speaks up. She shuffles closer to both of you shyly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Killed four women, I think. I wonder how he got here…?”

Your heart jumps in your throat at the confirmation. You knew you weren’t imagining things — knew he was too familiar. Aching breaths hit your lungs as you try to calm down. Urumi is watching you curiously — she’d only seen you this panicked with a game or two. “I think… I think I was going to be victim number five.”

They both widen their eyes at the news, but you stare at the floor, unblinking and still. Slyly, Urumi places herself in between you and the man — Banda. She hides you from his view as the chatter of the other players begins to rise. 

“No worries, [name],” Urumi grins. “We’ll keep each other safe.”

—— ♧ ♡ ♢ ♤ ——

Standing in front of the snack aisle took you back to a memory you wanted desperately to forget. The cookies in front of you transformed into books ; the smell of a moldy prison changed to the scent of coffee and vanilla. You can’t help but reminisce — can’t help it as your mind drifts from your current location and to one that felt like it was from a lifetime ago.

——

Bookstores were your safe haven ; libraries your second home. When they had small cafes nearby, they felt even more snug and warm and welcoming. You’re so focused on searching the shelf in front of you that the person beside you goes completely unnoticed. A shift to the right finally catches your attention, the man standing beside you is looking in your direction.

He’s handsome, you notice ; with soft eyes and a small tilt of his mouth that your eyes latch onto. The man fully grins your way now, all gently and tenderly and your breath catches in your chest. “I hope I’m not bothering you.”

“Oh, um…” you bite your bottom lip shyly and put the book you were looking at back on the shelf. Glancing at the stranger, you ignore the heat rising in your cheeks by clearing your throat. “No, it’s okay. Do you need something?”

“I just noticed something,” the man mutters. He moves quickly, his right hand cradling your face before his fingers move down to your chin. You’re so shocked — so startled by his audacity to touch you out of nowhere that you don’t move.  

“You,” he grins, the fingers holding your chin maneuvering your head side to side. “You have puppy eyes. How cute.”

Gulping, you can only stand there stiffly as he moves his hand away from you slowly, savoring how your skin feels. You’re frowning ; frowning as you bring your arms tight across your torso as a way to put a block between this man and you. “So? Why did you feel the need to tell me that?”

The man tilts his head, grin falling into something more sinister and poisonous. You back up steadily until your back hits the bookshelf behind you with a jolt. He doesn’t pursue you anymore ; doesn’t follow your timid steps as he just stares. “It’s cute, is all. Haven’t met anyone as cute as you before.”

——

“[Name]? You’re just standing there…” the girl in yellow is trying to get your attention. The flashback you found yourself lost in ripples away from you abruptly as she stands in his place. Once she sees you looking her way, she grins prettily and clasps onto your arm softly. “Urumi is looking for you. And she wants something sweet? What should we bring her?”

You grab a pink box, the cartoon strawberries on it bringing you further to the present. “She likes these. Do you want anything?”

She shakes her head and leads you to your group. Urumi looks over your shaken expression carefully before grinning and taking her snack from your hand. Slyly, she sways your way and detaches the yellow-clad woman from you and takes her place. “All for me, [name]? How sweet of you! Have any problems while you were away?”

“No,” you smile tensely but relax in her hold. Urumi is comforting in her own way — familiar to you and the only solace you’d found in the Borderlands. “Everything is good.”

The group goes around to tell their card suit’s — you only look away when Urumi lies to the woman in yellow about her symbol. You survive this round and the next ; somehow you and Urumi make it to the last twelve. You find yourself standing in front of the snack shelf again and it makes you remember the man from before ; the man who followed you to the Borderlands. 

“You’re here again.” You jump at the sudden noise, turning to see that man. You knew his name now ; knew what exactly he did before he ended up here. You back away slowly and it reminds you of the first time you met. You’re afraid he won’t just let you leave this time, though. “Hungry? Thirsty?”

Not answering, you only ball your hands into fists and prepare yourself for anything. Banda tilts his head and smiles at you teasingly before chuckling. “I’m not going to hurt you, puppy. Would never.”

You blink at the affectionate-sounding name, “what?”

Banda leans in closer, his eyes staying on yours as your noses brush. “You still have those pretty puppy eyes. We’ll make it out together, hm?” He backs away from you, grin melting into his neutral face. “Your suit is a heart. See you in the next round.”

Urumi doesn’t make it. You and Chishiya — the man in the white hoodie — are the last two survivors of your group. He finds solace in the cafeteria, but you find yourself on a staircase. You’re mourning the loss of your friend-of-sorts ; Urumi wasn’t the best person, but she was your companion and you already miss her.

“I’ll keep you company,” a voice runs through your ears. Banda is standing on the stair just above yours so that he’s looming over you. “Keep you safe,” he smiles. “All mine to protect now.”

Before you think, your mouth is opening and words are spilling out. “Why didn’t you kill me?”

He tilts his head, “why would I?”

“That’s what you do — you murder people.” Your anger briefly flares and it makes Banda’s grin widens. “I’m just wondering why that still hasn’t happened to me.”

Banda leans over you, hands in his pockets as the round’s countdown begins. You can hear the footsteps of the other players heading to their chosen cells ; you grow tenser, preparing yourself for your own end. “We aren’t allowed any violence in this arena.”

“That doesn’t explain the other world.”

He hums, leaning back and leading the way to the cells. “I find you… interesting enough to keep around. You have no choice but to live — with or without me. Diamond.”

You did have a choice. You could say a different suit, or not gather in a cell. You could join Urumi — wherever she was now — and attempt to walk out of the Jack’s chosen arena. But, Banda knew you wouldn’t. He’d seen it before, your fighting spirit.

And when Banda walked out with a man in a suit, you followed him, ignoring the blood splattered on his shirt and the smirk on his face.

——

idk how much i like this but <3 here it is anyways

airbendertendou © do not copy, plagiarize, repost, or translate my content on any platform. if you see my content under any other name than my own, let me know. i only have this tumblr and an ao3 account under the same name.

[cha-melodius]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Thanks to @ninzied for the tag!

How many works do you have on ao3?

120!

What's your total ao3 word count?

1,371,932

What fandoms do you write for?

RWRB, TMFU, Lokius

Top five fics by kudos:

Please Don't Let Me Be So Understood

Nova, Baby

Class(room) Warfare

All the Old Showstoppers

Always Where I Need To Be

Do you respond to comments?

I try. I used to be very good at responding but my backlog has gotten extreme (1491 unanswered comments as of right now, if you're curious) so at this point I pretty much only answer if it's a chapter in an ongoing multichap, or someone asks a question.

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I have a caradin fic that's straight up a break-up fic with no resolution, but I still feel like my angstiest is probably Black Moon (napollya), because they're in love but the situation is so fucking bleak. Sorry guys.

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Any of them that end with a proposal lol? I've got a lot of fluffy fics and all of my long fics end with pure fluff, so I don't think I could pick out one.

Do you get hate on fics?

I have been lucky not to really get any, at least lately. I've gotten... less than polite comments, of course, but no outright hate (knock on wood).

Do you write smut?

Yes, although I would not say it's an integral part of my writing tbh.

Craziest crossover:

Craziest might be Maybe, This Time, which is a Mandalorian/BSG crossover that involves dimension-hopping lol.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! I've had a few of my TMFU works translated and now there's someone in the RWRB fandom that translates most (!!) of my fics into Mandarin, which is mind blowing and flattering and I'm so grateful because I've gotten comments from people who have read them translated and loved them.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not yet!

All time favorite ship?

I don't think I can pick one; some of my past ships are just that—past—but there are a few I will carry in my heart forever.

What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

If I want to finish it, I will, even if it takes a long time. I might stop wanting to finish a wip, but that's not the question is it?

What are your writing strengths?

Banter/dialogue, action, pacing, plots. People have told me that they can picture my scenes like a movie because of the description and that makes me feel good.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Although I have my moments, I don't really tend to think of my writing as beautiful. I'm just not that poetic/lyrical.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

Sure! If it's in my own fic I usually have a native speaker look over it (I haven't done this lately but I have gotten Russian consults for TMFU fics).

First fandom you wrote in?

Xena: Warrior Princess, back when that show was airing. Fanfic primarily distributed over internet mailing lists and posted on your own website.

Favorite fic you've written?

Stealing Nina's idea and doing one in each of my main fandoms I've written in because it's hard to pick (even then this was rough).

Nova, Baby Series—Spy AU, Firstprince

Love is a Losing Game—Chess AU, Napollya (SHOCKER I KNOW)

What Makes a Good Man Series—Spy AU, Lokius

Here It Goes Again—The Mandalorian (Caradin but mostly Din character study in a time loop)

I'm not sure who's been tagged and who hasn't or even everyone who has done this, but a few tags below the cut. If you'd like to do it, jump in!

@kiwiana-writes, @rmd-writes, @three-drink-amy, @cricketnationrise, @14carrotghoul

@leaves-of-laurelin, @tintagel-or-cockleshells, @inexplicablymine, @firenati0n, @liminalmemories21

@orchidscript, @sparklepocalypse, @loki-is-my-kink-awakening, @mirilyawrites, @heytheredeann

@nicijones, @justabigoldnerd, @myheartalivewrites

[lqtraintracks]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Thank you @maesterchill @danpuff-ao3 and @nv-md for the tag! <333

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

314

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

1,295,054

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Harry Potter is the big one. I've also written some Captive Prince, Locked Tomb, and one Call Me By Your Name fic

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Right Hand Red; Hung Like a Horntail; Slip Into My Lover's Hands; Weeds or Wildflowers (written with the very talented @unmistakablyoatmeal); and check this hand 'cause I'm marvelous

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try. I'm seriously behind. The truth is, I'll never get around to replying to them all. I will someday die with a thousand unanswered comments. But I do try. And I read each and every one and they touch my heart. I'm so very grateful for all the wonderful comments I've received and continue to receive!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Oof. I hardly ever end things badly. But there was one wee ficlet; lemme go hunt it down. (*plays elevator music*) Ah, here it is: Not-Forever Is Still Forever. It's not MCD or anything. Draco just leaves for Argentina for two years. *shrug emoji* But I like to think I've gotten pretty good at baking some realistic angst into the middle of things, if not writing angty endings. I prefer it that way.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

All of them except for Burning the Ground, which is an open ending. I'll be honest, I don't like the word fluff. I'm never trying to write fluff, which, to me, denotes a level of uncomplicated sweetness. Maybe others define it differently. But I don't think happy endings are necessarily fluffy. I want my happy endings to put tears in your eyes, to move you. I want to evoke different things with different sorts of happiness for different phases of life. RHR's ending is about a feeling of freedom mostly, of getting to face the next part of their lives without dread. Take You Home has a similar vibe but with them a bit older; they've experienced the painful and mundane disappointments you have to weather in this life that have nothing to do with fighting a dark wizard and everything to do with existential questions about who we are, how we go on, what do you do when it doesn't work out, when you've changed and you don't know who you are anymore. I loved ending it with all their friends, at a march for trans rights. Heart Like Neon has an ending that makes *me* the most happy. I modeled it after an episode of Grey's Anatomy where you find out at the end of the ep that two important characters got married. The whole ep, none of their friends know, then at the end they play 'Bones' by Josh Record, and you go back in time by a few weeks and you see it. When I wrote the end of HLN, I had that song playing in my head from the end of the party at the Weasley's, to jumping three months earlier, to Harry and Draco in Paris. That's a pretty goddamned happy ending. It makes me cry. <3 (Also the art that @bluebutter-art made for it makes me bawl happy tears!!!)

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I was going to say hardly ever but then I *just* got some last week! LOL. Still, I'm very lucky that it's not even once in a blue moon. That stuff is so arbitrary too. I'm going to quote my good friend @elrhiarhodan: People... they're fuckin nuts. :D

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

LOL yes. A lot of different kinds? I want to try a little of everything as a writer.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

No. I mean, I probably have a couple times over the course of my literal decades in some fandom or other, but they're not worth noting.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yes.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes, several, and into multiple languages. I think that's so cool!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Definitely! In HP I've written with sdk, @the-starryknight and @nv-md, plus I once did a wild round robin with a big group of people. I'm not good at round robins, I've realized. Too much of a control freak.

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

Drarry, totally. But right up there is Harry/Teddy and Harry/Teddy/Draco. Then Ginny/Pansy, Charlie/Teddy, James Sirius/Albus Severus (with Teddy too sometimes). In CaPri, I love Damen/Laurent, but @linecrosser had totally made me ship when Damen lends Laurent out to Nikandros for a threesome and also Auguste/Laurent. I also hardcore ship my own original characters from my novel. <3

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I don't do WiPs really.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Oof, this is tough. Pacing? Interpersonal relationships? Smut, for sure. LOL. I think I do well writing things that are transgressive or maybe even filthy with a lot of tenderness and compassion and deep, deep love mixed in. And I think I'm getting really good at making people cry when I want them to. Readers, that is. :D

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Convoluted plots. Can't do them. I wish I could. I can't write a mystery to save my life. I'm also pretty bad at heavy angst. I also wish I could write something nonlinear, but my brain just doesn't work that way.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

It's interesting that this is a question because it's meaningful to me not because of fic but because of my novel. I have a Spanish-speaking character, fluent in English, but sometimes he says things in Spanish. I'm very VERY lucky that @capiturecs read my novel both as a sensitivity reader for Latinx/Latine/Latino aspects but also to correct my Spanish and make it realistic and conversational! I'll be forever grateful! I also now really REALLY want to learn Spanish! <3

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Sorry, I don't share this publicly.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

Oh this is mean. This is cruel. I can't possibly answer this! RHR has got to be in there. Heart Like Neon. Blood and Fire. Phoenix in the Fire. Take You Home. Wonderful Electric (cover me in you). A Pain of Our Choosing. My Name in Your Mouth. Bloom. collarbones like a bow, skin an arrow to the heart. I'll stop there!

Okay, this was fun! I'll tag @corvuscrowned @ruinsplume @floydig @sweet-s0rr0w @lettersbyelise @magpiefngrl @skeptiquewrites and Elr! <3

[hanilessa]

flowers on your wrist

` Childe x Fem!Reader

` Genre: soulmate au, romance

` Author’s notes: this is my birthday present for you. be happy, my dear @kiryoutann ♡ i thought for a long time what kind of fic i would like to write for you, and soulmate au was the perfect solution. please, enjoy it!

It started spontaneously and unexpectedly. When you least expected it. The party at your classmate's house was really fun. You were enjoying the pleasant taste of cocktail in the company of your friends, when a sharp and unexpected pain in your wrist make you drop glass with cocktail from your hand.

The crystal glass shattered on the floor with a slight clang, flooding the parquet with a transparent liquid, which gradually began to turn red and create unimaginable water patterns. Your head was empty for a moment in pain, your eyes clouded over with a light veil, and you grabbed your wrist with your free hand, trying to stop the pain.

The pain wasn't too bad, but you felt like your skin was being torn apart. You overcame the sudden urge to scream and finally looked down at your wrist. You held it with your other hand, but even that didn't stop you from feeling and seeing how red blood dripped from your wrist, continuing to mix with the cocktail spilled on the floor.

The feeling of pain continued to gnaw at your wrist, and you finally pulled your hand away to see a small forget-me-not sprout reaching through your torn to hell skin. The little white forget-me-not flower sparkles blood red as it continues to ooze from your open wound on your wrist.

When your shock gradually wears off, you begin to hear voices again, and when your hearing returns to normal, you hear words that later became fatal to you.

"She got a sign."

You're standing on the porch of the house, peering into the night starry sky. Myriads of celestial bodies shine on the black veil of the sky, accompanying your planet in this endless stream of the Universe. Your wounded wrist ripples through your body with a slight, residual pain, a reminder that now all that you have to think about is finding your soulmate. The wound on your wrist will never stop reminding you about it.

Ajax is standing next to you, his eyes slightly red and wet, and you sigh in an excited and saddened way, realizing that he was crying again because of his ex. Your best friend never understood people, and therefore he could never know that your feelings for him were romantic for a long time. Unfortunately, these feelings must now be discarded, because your destiny must be the one whose wrist today is also torn with burning pain and beautiful bloody flowers.

That's why you hated your reality. You cursed the world for creating soulmates. Because you never had a chance to be with someone you truly loved.

You look at Ajax out of the corner of your eye, a gentle breeze caresses his ginger hair, the blue of his eyes is devastated by a river of tears, and it hurts you to see the dry paths of tears on his cheeks. You notice a small bloody mark on the sleeve of his blue sweater. You want to ask him about it, but you don't have time because Childe becomes the first one to break the silence between the two of you.

"I was told that you got a sign." He turns to you and looks at you with his bottomless ocean eyes. "What was it?"

"The forget-me-not sprout tore my skin to shreds." You answer, looking at your wrist out of the corner of your eye. "Sensations aren't the best."

"Is that so…" Ajax looks at his soiled sweater thoughtfully, and you think he's thinking hard about something.

"Did you get into a fight with someone again?" You ask in the silence of the night city, knowing that he will again leave this question unanswered. "Because of her?"

"Let's not talk about it."

You're silent. It was something like a routine.

The days go by at a fast pace, accompanying your every morning, day and night with burning pain that spreads through your body at the speed of light. These seizures happened unexpectedly, and you didn’t even understand if your soulmate was somewhere nearby at that moment or not. The pain was burning, furious, to blackout in the eyes.

And the most frightening thing was that with each new seizures this pain got worse. You had to find your soulmate before this pain made your life hell.

You tell your friends that you urgently need to go to the bathroom because your wrist starts to burn with painful fire again. It was unbearable.

You locked yourself in the backroom and pressed yourself against the wall, throwing your head up. It was insanely fucking painful. Your lips were trembling and tears were running down your cheeks, but you could never run away from these sensations, because that was your nature.

The branches and stems of the forget-me-not grew on your wrist, fused with the tendons and blossomed into beautiful flowers that mingled with the red blood flowing from your wound. Hatred of fate spilled into your soul, as your blood spilled over the floor around you, filling the space with a bloody sea.

You wanted to resist, you could never accept that your destiny was someone who wasn't Ajax. Why did this world decide for you? Why did you have to follow clear rules, and not choose your own way? As you denied your connection to your soulmate and wept over your doomed love, the pain in your arm rose above your pain threshold, causing you to scream out loud.

There was a ringing in your ears, and for a moment you thought you heard someone scream. But you couldn't think about it for long, because your hand hurt again, and you lowered your eyes to your wrist, where a bouquet of bloody forget-me-nots bloomed. It was a beautiful and terrifying sight at the same time.

You screamed in pain again, and at that moment you distinctly heard someone scream, which was completely in sync with yours. The voice was familiar, and when you heard the scream again, you recognized it.

"Ajax…" You whispered, not believing your thoughts. You barely got up from your seat, rising on trembling legs from the floor. Your wrist continued to throb in pain, but the only thing you wanted right now was to see your best friend.

You opened the backroom door and immediately met Childe's blue eyes. His face was wet with tears, but that wasn't what caught your attention. Now you've seen his wrist. It was covered with white bloody flowers — forget-me-nots. The same ones that tore the skin off your own wrist.

"You screamed…" His voice is trembling as he also turns his attention to your hand, which is dripping blood. There was silence around you and him, broken only by the sound of his and your blood dripping, mingling on the floor.

"You too…" You say, wiping tears from your eyes with your good hand.

Ajax does the same, then smiles through the slowly fading pain, "Looks like we have something to talk about, don't we?"

[songliili]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

thank you @happiness-of-the-pursuit for tagging me

How many works do you have on ao3? only 10 as of now, but i hope it'll be 13 by the end of the year

What's your total ao3 word count? 107,767

What fandoms do you write for? rwrb and supernatural. although it's mostly rwrb as of now

Top five fics by kudos:

we all have a hunger - Henry is a porn star, Alex is a fan.

bro, you're fucking hung! - Alex is fascinated by Henry's huge dick.

Fill My Stocking - Alex wants some attention and Henry has to get creative.

you should floss more - Dean goes to the dentist and is his usual disaster bi self. Lucky for him, his dentist doesn't mind.

footage of (y)our love - Alex and Henry get married, and 2/3 of the Super Six documented their love story.

Do you respond to comments? yes, i do my best at not leaving them unanswered!

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? probably I Had Some Time (With You) because of the mcd tag and the kind of open ending with claire and jody that i left just in case i decide to write claire's story. but i also think that dean and cas had a soft beautiful and loving end, so yeah it's sad but i don't think it's a sad fic? more like haunting in a positive way (this makes me sound so pretentious but i just love that story so much and i'd love for more people to read it it too)

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? i genuinely don't know? all of them have happy endings imo... probably psau1 tho. simply because i'm writing the sequel and i know they're even more happy lmao.

Do you get hate on fics? thankfully i don't!

Do you write smut? yep! and i thought i wasn't able to. (peep at my two most popular fics being rated E and the second being just pwp)

Craziest crossover: i don't think it's crazy but I Had Some Time (With You) kind of is a crossover with the last of us? i mixed up tlou and spn.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? not that i know of, but i don't think anyone would steal my stuff, i'm nobody

Have you ever had a fic translated? ... well............. eight years ago i wrote a fic for a kpop group and before orphaning it someone asked me permission to translate it. i don't know if they ever did it, and i can't check cause i don't remember the title so i can't even look it up

Have you ever co-written a fic before? i've started writing a fic with @zeppelinmixtape a while ago, we should pick it back up.

All time favorite ship? destiel and firstprince, obviously

What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will? probably the great dean court off, and it's a shame cause i love it and i want to finish it cause i have the ending clear in my head, but i changed so much as a writer that i think i'd have to rework it all to avoid a stark contrast between then and now/the future.

What are your writing strengths? once @cactusdragon517 told me that my italian brain "lends so much to it. It is so beauful and the way you write it feels like reading something SACRED." (yes, i copy-pasted their message cause i saved it in a note on my phone for when i need a ego boost)

What are your writing weaknesses? i'm verbose but at the same time i skim on things. small things turn into big things and fics that can be under 5k turn into 10k, 'cause small, insignificant details and context in conversations are needed; but not descriptions. for the life of me i can't remember that people aren't in my head and they need to know who's talking and what the place they're in looks like.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language? i'm a sucker for it, but if they're written in a language i know i will be critic of the translation used - and if i know the author i will suggest a translation that in my opinion is better.

First fandom you wrote in? aforementioned kpop fandom. no, i will not disclose what group or pairing.

Favorite fic you've written? I Had Some Time (With You) and we all have a hunger. but also mh fp, ciayaq? and psau2 that live in my wips folder. (and if y'all want to tell me what's your favourite of my silly little fics, let me know!)

i guess i have to tag 20 people now, i don't know who's done this already so forgive me if you did.

(mae, chrissy, consider your previous tags as tagging for the game lmao)

@father-salmon @underwaterninja13 @leojfitz @read-and-write- @littlemisskittentoes @galitzine-nick @inexplicablymine @affectionatelyrs @gayrootvegetable @wordsofhoneydew @emmalostinwonderland @rockyroadkylers @three-drink-amy @theprinceandagcd @imyourhoneybeespn @princehgejfmw @absolute-audacity @firenati0n

[pumpkinspice-prouvaire]

20 questions for 20 writers!

thank you sm for the tag @television-bodies beloved <3

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 27

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? 359,903

3. What fandoms do you write for? les mis my beloved <3

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Let's Fall in Love (For the Week) Something Good Can Work Never a Flame, We Just Wanted a Spark my beloathed Following the Neon Signs (Waiting for a Word) With My Feelings on Fire (Guess I'm a Bad Liar)

5. Do you respond to comments? I do!!! Sometimes it takes me forever, but I really hate leaving comments unanswered. If you see me replying to a comment you left over a year ago no you don't

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? I Don't Know What To Do (With Your Kiss On My Neck)- it's canon era so it's morally obligated to have boatloads of angst

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Following the Neon Signs ends with a second chance romance wedding, but I also love the found family ending in Let's Fall in Love (for a Week). It's CUTE

8. Do you get hate on fics? no, long may that continue

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? tehe yes of course, and I will again and again and again. And idk, the good kind????? What does that mean?

10. Do you write crossovers? I don't write crossovers, but I do love a good AU. They're kind of the same vibe to me

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not to my knowledge

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Not to my knowledge

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Yes! I co-wrote Mess Me Up (No One Does It Better) with @aromantic-enjolras. When you're in rarepair hell you simply must write the fics you wanna see in the world

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship? Take one (1) look at me and guess

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? My Enjolras goes too far and gets himself in trouble with the fucking mob au. It was fun I was having a great time writing it but also it's complicated trying to work out the logistics I feel. Saying that I've recently revived my Hunger Games AU from like 2+ years ago so never say never!

16. What are your writing strengths? I don't think I know the answer to this uhh like dialogue and general character dynamics? Bestie idk!

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Description holy fuck I suck so bad at descripton. As far as I'm concerned all conversations are taking place in a completely white room with no doors or windows

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? I think with les mis fanfic in particular it's kind of funny because, unless otherwise stated in the setting, it's always just presumed that everyone is speaking French, so in that case I don't really see the point? Does that make sense idfk

19. First fandom you wrote for? You wouldn't last an hour in the asylum where they raised me (James Patterson's Maximum Ride series circa 2008-2010)

20. Favorite fic you’ve written? Currently, it's Seek and Destroy. But this tag has me thinking of Following the Neon Signs again, I think I'll always have a soft spot for that fic :')

no pressure tags for @shamedumpster @darkgreenandbloodred @aromantic-enjolras @cx-shhhh

[oonajaeadira]

20 questions for fic writers

Thank you for the tag, @insomniamamma. For the record, I think you write beautiful smut. I appreciate it for its realness and connection.

How many works do you have on ao3? Aw man, you made me log into my AO3 account? I haven't been around there recently because I feel bad about leaving some messages unanswered. Tumbletown is my main fic home and I haven't really had the time to post here, much less on AO3. (Answer the question Adira.) It says I have 19. I don't post there until they're here and sometimes don't crosspost. Mainly I've been posting over there only if I have a complete series, although sorry LMR readers both there AND here.

2. What's your total ao3 word count? 260,317. Seeing as how not even half of my fic is up over there, I cringe to think of what my actual wordcount is.

3. What fandoms do you write for? Pedro Pascal. Which is an umbrella for the actual fandoms contained therein.

4. Top 5 fics by kudos According to AO3? Losing My Religion, A Girl Walks Into a Bookshop, A Rare Treat, The Sweets Series, Eyes Closed, Comm Open. According to Tumblr: Good. Things. Take. Time. (this one's a Tumble exclusive, dunno if I'll ever AO3 that one), Losing My Religion, Dulces Suenos, The Sweets Series, A Girl Walks Into a Bookshop.

5. Do you respond to comments? I do. Every one. I know I'm behind on some and I'm sorry about that. I let that bother me enough that it's getting in the way of my writing and I shouldn't do that.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? I don't like to leave angst hanging and only use it as a trampoline for a happy ending, but I guess the closest thing I have would be A Kiss Before Dying and in Death We Combine. Even if it ends in "death," at least they get to be together.

7. What is the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? All of them? LOL. Of the multi-chapters I've actually finished, probably A Girl Walks Into a Bookshop.

8. Do you get hate on fics? Only in passing. There were the mean girls that were kind of being catty over on a few other blogs about GTTT when it blew up much to my surprise (yes, of course I saw all of that, mean girls gonna mean). I remember some comment about not trivializing massage therapists just because I have a shitty back.... and all I could think was, hey. First of all, I can tell you didn't even read it, you're just mad about it blowing up. Not my fault. Next. Don't talk about my back. You wouldn't like being injured and having people talk smack about a piece of your body that gives you pain beyond comprehension, y'bigot. Also not my fault. Once I realized they were just mean girls meaning, I let it roll off and got my own satisfaction by writing a pretty bomb series based on some of their prompt lists that I never would have seen if I hadn't been clued into the smack. Turn that hate into something great!

9. Do you write smut? I do. Not exclusively and it's never the main dish of the story. If it does show up, it's usually the result of a long period of longing and/or feelings exchange.

10. Craziest crossover? I'm not a crossover gal. Every once in a while I'll write an easter egg into another fic (there are several in GTTT), but nothing heavy duty. There was the time The Mandalorian got something of a cameo in a Sweet's fic tho....

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Oh gods, I hope not. That would suck. I hate blocking people.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? YES! But not in the way you might think! @katareyoudrilling did an amazing job translating the first chapter of Good. Things. Take. Time. into a sexytime roleplay script!!!! I'M STILL SQUEEING ABOUT IT.

13. Have you co-written a fic before? In a way. For a while when RP accounts were in full swing, I was falling very much in love with the adventure I was creating with @morally-gray-prospector. That account was so amazing, run by one of the smartest writers I've ever known here, but they were TOO good and poured themselves generously into their responses, which got them quite a following...and they burned themselves out! While my story with Ezra didn't have an ending, I never expected it to. I meant it when I said it to the writer: I'm just so happy to have an adventure with Ezra and every minute working on it was a joy that I will love forever. I'm glad they had fun too and didn't keep pushing themselves when it was no longer sustainable. <3

All time favorite ship? It's Din and Little Bird. Now that I know how that story is going to soft-end, they're my favorite couple of all time.

What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you will Oh, I'll finish them all. Right now, Branded is in the most danger of lingering, since I have to figure some stuff out with them. But if I could solve the puzzle of Losing My Religion, then I have no doubt that I'm eventually going to get on with that one too.

What are your writing strengths? I don't know what my strengths are, but I like the magic of showing without showing. I like pacing. I enjoy trying to get the characters' voices right and make the dialog real.

What are your writing weaknesses? I am slow. And I make a show of "not following the rules" as if I'm some kind of rebel, but really, I'm just bad at following rules!!!!

Thoughts on dialogue in another language I try to avoid it for the most part because I usually mess it up pretty badly. I generally don't write Din in Mando'a because I haven't really heard him speak it in the series and he seems to always default to Basic even if he understands it spoken to him, so I can't shake the feeling that it's out of character. But Little Bird is a Mandalorophile, so she'd definitely know it and use it. I do sometimes pull in Spanish for Sweets, but it's usually because it's two characters who actually would speak it when Sunday's not around, and even then I try to make sure it's basic enough for folks to follow. The one time I tried to put Italian in I messed it up pretty good, but a beautiful reader helped correct it for me and I'm so so so grateful. <3

First fandom you wrote for I know I have a Doctor Who piece in a notebook somewhere hidden away. And I most likely have a slew of Ranma pieces from my college days. Were there any before that? Possibly.

Favorite fic you've written I have too many. I write really slow, so if it's actually made it to Tumbles, that means I loved it enough to manifest it. Some of them I love because of the fandom, some because of the relationship, some because of the world building, some because of the interaction, and most because of the good time I had writing it. Right now I'm seeing people reading Losing My Religion, and I've had reason to dip into some of those chapters and re-read a little and it's reminded me how much I love writing for the Star Wars universe, how much confidence I have in it. That was the first fic I really wrote, and I put so much of myself into it... so if I choose a favorite, I'll point there first even if it's not really finished yet.

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tagging: @blueeyesatnight @ezrasbirdie @missredherring @leslie-lyman @prolix-yuy

[i-just-wanna-write-fanfic]

If you're willingly to are you able to write for brick from tdroti?

and if you are can I have yan!brick alphabet?

yes, I do write for him! Thanks for asking! :3

NOTES/WARNINGS never wrote for this feller, sorry if I didn't so the best job :> warning for yandere stuff ofc! :3

YAN!BRICK ALPHABET!

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

His main ways of showing affection are acts of service and words of love. when it comes to showing love physically, he will ask for consent first, as he really doesn't want to make you too uncomfortable.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

he really doesn't want to hurt anyone. it really takes a lot+ to make him hurt someone, let alone kill a person.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

he would never mock you! why would he mock you if he only did this because he loves you?

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

oh, no, no, no, no!! never!

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

he is SO vulnerable with you! every question asked never goes unanswered! he read somewhere that honesty is important in a relationship!

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

hurt. very, very, hurt.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

this is anything but a game. he just hates it when you try to run away.

why can't you just love him?

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

when you try to leave. every time you try, he guilt trips you into staying.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

He doesn't really know, but he hopes you two will be able to grow old together. maybe even get married!

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

He gets jealous pretty easily, but he doesn't lash out. he tends to just hold your hand and hope the other person gets the message. if they don't, he may drag you away with some lame excuse.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

he's just so love-struck and nervous! all he can do is look at you and hope you love him too! And if you let him touch you... he's just so over the moon!

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

He could never approach you. All he could do was stalk you and leave you to love letters! this was the only way you knew that there was someone out there. you didn't who was leaving the letters, or why you felt like you were being watched almost all the time, but you knew there was someone.

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

no, not really.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

he just can't! but if he must, then he will... but the only way he really can is isolation. He can't really come up with any other ways that wouldn't make him feel horrible.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

you can do anything you want, as long as you're inside and/or with him.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

he's very patient! he knows it takes a while for a pet to get used to a new place, so maybe you're the same!

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

Death: he will never move on. he wouldn't know how.

leave/escape: he won't waste any time NOT looking for you.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

he feels a bit guilty, but he just can't let you leave!

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

He was bullied when he was younger and even made fun of a bit while on the show, and the first time he met you, you were just so nice! you didn't have any reason, you didn't even know his name! yet you were so kind...

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

he feels so bad! may start to tear up a bit too, but will most definitely do his best to make you feel better!

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

not really, but he also just can' bring himself to hurt anyone!

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

his emotions. He is very emotional, so if you do/say just the right thing you may make him set you free. he will regret this very soon though, so make sure the second that you make it out, you just bolt away as fast as you can.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

NO NO NO NO NO NO!!!!

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

Of course, he worships you! he sees you as above everyone else, even himself! he'd do anything to have you love him!

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

a few months, a year or two at most.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

no.