#all those screams are cathartic though

[hydranomago]

“He usually doesn’t sing the first part.”

(Subaru and AsaShin talking about how Kento’s role as Doppo is important, as he’s usually the last character according to sequence to rap his verse before the chorus) 

MC: Ito-san said “It’s always tiring”; plus he mentioned that compared to everyone else, the part he raps is about 2 seconds longer than everyone else’s. 

Subaru: Ah, I see! 

MC: Yeah, cause his final line usually blends into the chorus. 

AsaShin: Oh, so he doesn’t sing the first part of the chorus.

MC: He said he usually doesn’t sing the first part. 

Subaru: This is the first time I’m hearing this! 

(Video as proof that Kento doesn’t sing the first few seconds of the chorus) 

#hypnosis mic #hypmic #seiyuu #ichiro yamada #samatoki aohitsugi #doppo kannonzaka #kimura subaru #asanuma shintaro #itou kento #asashin #buster bros #mad trigger crew #matenrou #thank you for all your hard work seiyuus #voice actors #kento please take care of your voice #all those screams are cathartic though #doppo our rep

[comradekatara]

it’s actually really funny that despite being given ample evidence that sokka is a good hunter (he is described offscreen by the writers as being a good hunter; it is a role he clearly takes pride in and defines himself by, ie, “the meat guy”; no one ever starves when he’s around; there’s the way he can accurately describe the events of an entire battle through simply looking at some footprints and scorch marks on the trees; and most crucially, his impeccable accuracy with a boomerang that has been a mainstay across his entire arc clearly required practice at some point, and considering it is literally a hunting weapon, i’m not exactly sure what else he’d even be practicing on), we never actually see him hunt successfully. every time he does attempt to hunt onscreen, he is thwarted by the elements, and his attempt fails disastrously (and comedically). and yet, there is no doubt in my mind that he is, in fact, good at hunting.

some people, however, do take katara’s claim that sokka doesn’t do any work around camp at face value, which is understandable, not only because we never actually see him properly hunt, but because he’s also just an asshole, generally, who undermines the value of domestic (ie, feminine) labor to attempt to bolster his own precariously fragile ego. the thing about katara’s rage in those early episodes is that it is undeniably cathartic and powerful, but also quite misplaced. gran gran making her do chores isn’t the enemy, and neither is sokka. they’re both overprotective to the point of stifling her freedom and dismissing her desires, but it’s for good reason. she is in direct danger, and they feel an existential need to protect her. her enemy is imperialism, not her overbearing, cynical family members. she deserves to be angry, and she deserves to scream and yearn and rebel, but that doesn’t mean that everything she says is correct. for example, just because we first see sokka through her point of view, “playing soldier” and pretending to be a real man, doesn’t mean he isn’t pulling his weight in multiple ways at all times, even if his narrow worldview does need to be challenged (but then again, so does hers).

so why do we never actually see sokka hunt? well, atla is, fundamentally, a children’s show. there are some things that they just simply cannot depict. someone killing, skinning, and cooking an animal would probably disturb children, even though it is also an everyday, normal occurrence and how all the meat they constantly allude to is produced. it’s funny what lines they’ll draw in the sand. especially because we never actually see sokka kill any animals with his boomerang, and yet he does kill actual human beings with it. but i suppose nickelodeon said that was fine.

#sokka #katara #katara&sokka #analysis #basically just transcribing a convo I had w tumblr user bloodbenderz yesterday #but it’s a sentiment I’ve seen reflected before #and I KNOW im sokka’s defense attorney but like. he IS a good hunter. he is. he was just being CENSORED by Big Nicktoons

[delirious-donna]

There’s No Better Love [Higuruma Hiromi]

an: entirely inspired by this absolutely amazing art of Hiromi with a soft little tum (link to twitter here). I ADORE soft bellies, and I am here to spread the agenda to normalise this in both men, women and they/them. They are beautiful and I will nuzzle those pooches just like they deserve.

pairing: Higuruma Hiromi x female reader

warnings: none really, soft fluff, domestic vibes, body positivity throughout, suggestive at best, reader loves her husband unconditionally (as she should)

Masterlist

Higuruma enjoys a nice long soak, a fact that you’ve come to appreciate even more than when you found him all those years ago submerged whilst fully suited on that dimly lit stage. That was the day that your life changed forever, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Since then, he tends to stick to more traditional bathing practices, though he has been known to drag you kicking and screaming into the shower when you are both still fully dressed. You had to admit, there was something weirdly satisfying about the experience, almost cathartic, but you continued to bristle when he chuckled and gave you that knowing look. The one where he is certain he’s won and you’re not sure whether you want to smack him or kiss him. No prizes for guessing which option usually wins out…

In lieu of fully clothed bathing, Hiromi takes to visiting a bathhouse on his way home from work once every few weeks. Usually on a Friday, and especially during those weeks where he feels like his workload will never end.

You can always tell when he’s done exactly that, acutely aware of the zen-like hum that radiates from him as soon as he steps through the door. His smile is lax—dopey and carefree. His normally dark, calculating eyes have grown warm and shiny, still just as tired but less sore. A blush decorates his cheeks and the tips of his ears, and of course, his hair is still damp because he never takes the time to dry it fully before tripping his way home to you on a cloud of relaxation.

Many things have changed since that first fateful encounter, so many that it would take an age to list them all out, but right now, your focus falls to that of his stomach. Half undressed, Hiromi stands by the sliding wardrobes with his shirt hanging open. His trousers spill messily from the laundry hamper, leaving him in his underwear and black socks. His stomach forms a soft pooch, a beautiful curve that has you capturing your lip between sharp teeth.

Decorated with black downy hair from navel to the band of his shorts, you reminisce of the days when that subtle tum was simply flat. No real meat to his abdomen to speak of, although he was still strong and was even more so today. A fact he revels in proving by hoisting you onto the nearest surface to have his wicked way with you. Back then though, taking care of himself had always fallen low on his list of priorities, and if that meant he skipped a meal or two to catch up on his emails, then so be it and his physique bore the evidence of his focus.

The evidence of his shifting priorities warmed your heart, a sentimental smile tugging at your lips and it brought you to the edge of the bed. His eyes caught yours in the reflection of the mirror, eyebrows crinkling in question whilst you simply held out a hand for him, which he took without thought.

“Something wrong?” He asked. His other hand found your cheek, palm cupping gently whilst his thumb stroked lovingly across your soft skin.

You hummed. “Far from it. Have I told you lately how much I love this little tummy?” Leaning forward, your nose nuzzled against the small pooch, the coarse hairs tickling at your cheek, until he tensed and tried to suck it in.

“Hey! Don’t do that,” you chastised, glancing up from beneath your lashes with a snort of annoyance exhaled through your nose. Hiromi rubbed at his neck, embarrassed perhaps, but you weren’t having any of that. Not when he so openly worshipped your body. It was his turn to be on the receiving end for once.

“You’ve been over feeding me,” he grumbled with his bottom lip jutting out in a mock pout.

Hiromi let out a yelp as your teeth nipped at his stomach, head snapping down to meet your fiery eyes and he had the decency to look away sheepishly. “I think you’ll find, that I have simply been feeding you. And anyways…” You murmured, drawing a little loveheart next to the pink mark from your bite. “It’s cute. Makes me feel like you’re truly comfortable with me, with us and our life.”

“An understatement, darling.” His hand moved to the back of your head, fingers tangling into your hair. “Now, why don’t you come up here and kiss me where I can return the favour, hm?”

Moving to your knees, you wound an arm around his neck and claimed his lips just as he asked. There was no urgency, no fumbling or groping hands divesting you of clothes, only that sweet connection of two people so in love that they couldn’t bear to be parted. And yet, part you must. The need for oxygen an irksome necessity when you would much rather breathe in your husband until your lungs seized up entirely.

“Mm, I can smell the oils from the bathhouse on you,” you murmured, moving your lips to his jaw, down his neck and across his clavicle, leaving wet little kisses along the way. “Did you have a nice soak?”

Hiromi sighed in contentment, letting his body relax and return to its normal stature. He felt his small but obvious belly sag, brushing against your own and he tipped his head in wonder.

“Mhm. Feels nice to lie back and let the stresses of the week slough off. Do you… do you really like it?” He asked, hands settled at your waist and tracing his thumbs in slow circles over the cushion of belly. It was ridiculous to be self-conscious about something like this, but the feeling existed nonetheless. Hiromi knew that had the situations been reversed, with you being the one asking such a silly question, he would waste not a second in proving just how much he loved every inch of you—both with verbose enthusiasm and physical reinforcement of his words.

“Hiro.”

Your fingers skimmed his shoulders, pulling free the shirt that resided on his back. You explored the structure of him; the ridges of bones, the strength of lithe muscles, skin dappled in dark hairs and marked by a small number of scars. Every freckle deserved attention and you followed the path your fingers traversed with your mouth, listening to his breathing grow irratic and stuttered.

“I love the very bones of you. The sinew and tendons. The blood pumping through your heart and moving…” you paused, glancing down deliberately. “To every organ and limb. This stomach proves to me that you’re happy, and whether it stays like this or grows bigger, I will continue to love it, and you.”

He let out a sigh when your lips trailed lower and your tongue peeked out to lick at his happy trail. Hiromi cupped your jaw, waiting until your gaze lifted to gift you a smile that reached his eyes and twinkled with the mischief you were accustomed to. With soft fingers you kneaded his hips and around to his backside to give a squeeze.

“I think you’ve made your point, you little minx,” he hissed, though he couldn’t prevent the breathless giggle that accompanied the words.

“Y’know… I don’t think I have, but let me remedy that,” you purred, reaching for the waistband of his underwear and forcing him one step closer. “We’ve got the rest of our lives, after all…”

#delirious writes #higuruma hiromi #higuruma x reader #higuruma fluff #hiromi fluff #higuruma hiromi x reader #higuruma hiromi fluff #jjk fluff #jjk x reader

[tadpolebrains]

Angst brain time

Bg3 Companions Crying

Astarion not crying immediately after Cazador’s body is limp at his feet. Feeling numb, pained, screaming hoarsely, but no tears falling. It isn’t until later that night, back at the tavern, when he’s curled up in your arms and the blood has been cleaned from every part of him that they finally do. And it’s cathartic. Silent sobs at first which make him shake in your arms, then louder against your chest once you’ve assured him it’s ok. You aren’t leaving. He’s allowed to have this. While he practically never cried before that, after that he finds himself tearing up at such seeming insignificant things as he heals. The barrier broke, and it’s not going back up.

Lae’zel not processing what’s happening at first after learning the truth about Vlaakith. What is this foreign wetness in her eyes, and why won’t it go away? Despising how it feels and angrily trying to wipe them away. No, she’s not crying, how dare you suggest that? She must be allergic to all of the idiots surrounding her. When she’s alone, she tries to just get it out and get it over with without witnessing eyes, but gets frustrated when the tears won’t fall. It’s only in someone else’s presence that they seem to insist on forming, and that annoys her to no end. It’s only once she feels completely safe with you that she’ll cry one night in your presence, but god forbid you utter a word about it the next day.

Gale will get teared up over good things. When you first found Scratch, he was so relieved when the poor dog managed to find your camp later that he almost cried while petting him. Give him a hug, he gets choked up. Accepting his condition with the orb and allowing him to stay? Choked up. But with bad things, he isn’t as affected when those bad things pertain to him. His own possible death? Well, he resigned himself to that a while ago. He has more of a freeze and shut down response to bad things than a crying one. Once the final battle is over, though, and he realizes he gets to live… well, he ugly cries into your arms that night.

Shadowheart can only manage to cry by herself. She’s cried some nights about her lost memories, or if the pain in her hand flares up when she’s alone. But in front of other people, even you, she can never seem to. She doesn’t understand it, because she trusts you, but even if she’s upset all she feels is this heavy weight in her chest until she’s alone and the dam breaks. The only exception seems to be if she gets drunk.

Wyll is a quiet crier. He can be crying and still be breathing completely evenly, not even noticeable apart from the tears streaming down his cheeks. And he’ll try to smile through it if it’s something sad, reassuring you as if you’re the only who needs comforting for witnessing his breakdown. One of the only times he’s ugly-sobbed was the night Mizora turned him- until his throat was raw and his eyes stung, alone in his tent. Will tear up if you’re the one crying. On the flipside, also the type to laugh so hard he cries sometimes. He enjoys those moments of sheer joy.

Karlach tears up a lot. She’s just a naturally emotional person, and has no shame for it. Happy? Tears. Sad? Tears? You’re sad? Definitely tears. Cried from sheer relief when she got to cuddle someone the first night after getting her engine fixed. Sometimes, she’ll just start crying for no particular reason, and won’t even be able to explain it to herself, let alone you. “No, soldier, I’m alright. Don’t even know what this is, hah!”

Halsin doesn’t cry much. Years upon years of dealing with other people’s problems, comforting other people, going through long-winded arguments with other druids- eventually, a lot of things stopped making him as emotional as they used to. Even some nights where the guilt of the shadow-curse seem to weigh heavy on his chest, he just feels… stuck. Immobile. But not crying. When the curse is lifted on the lands, though, for the first time in a long while, he finds a single tear slipping from his eye as he smiles wider and more genuinely than he has for centuries.

#astarion #gale #halsin #wyll #karlach #shadowheart #lae'zel #baldur’s gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 hcs #bg3 headcanons #tadthoughts

[thefallennightmare]

Just Pretend-eleven

Parings: Noah Sebastian x Musician! Reader

Warnings/Tropes: language, angst, fluff, smut, star-crossed lovers, right person/wrong time, cheating, talks of mental abuse.

Summary: “I can wait for years, heaven knows I’m not getting over you.” A story about two star-crossed lovers, that always find their way back because their souls are entwined. The universe desperately attempts to bring them together, no matter what the cost.

Authors Note: for this one, no theories or what ifs. it's all from our owns personal experience which makes it cathartic for us and maybe some of you. MUST LISTEN TO EILEY BY TOO CLOSE TO TOUCH! DURING THIS ENTIRE CHAPTER, OVER AND OVER AGAIN. HEADS UP: there will be talks of suicidal thoughts throughout this chapter so please please please, read with caution.

Collaborating With: @thescarlettvvitch(better give her all the love as well)

Tags: @thescarlettvvitch @ozwriterchick @waake-meee-up @notingridslurkaccount @niicoleleigh @sammyjoeee @xxrainstorm @dominuslunae @notmaddihealy @malice-ov-mercy @crimson-calligraphyx @iknownothingpeople @writethrough @thebadchic @blackveilomens Claudia on Tumblr @tobe-written @blacksoul-27 @loeytuan98 @loverofagoodbeard @comfortcharactercraze @lma1986 @plutonikchaos1 @spicywhenspeaking @lyschko666 @somewhere-diamond @hi-fancy-seeing-you-here @koskeepsake

READER

My feet took me almost in autopilot mode to the end of the hallway where the door urged me forward while my heart kept screaming at me to turn around; go back. The tears that gathered in my eyes were blinding me and I could barley see as I pushed through the door, quickly ascending the staircase. So many questions filled my brain and nearly knocked me on my ass, I had to grasp at the railing. I gasped for breath, my lungs being crushed by the weight of leaving him. His broken eyes begging me to come back, not to leave. But my own issues kept me from following my heart.

Why did I leave? Why did I fucking leave? Why couldn’t I just talk? Why did I leave him like that?

Those usually bright eyes filled with so much darkness and sadness, it made me stumble over my feet as I neared the door that led out to the roof of the hotel. The wind brushed around me in rapid waves as I came to a sudden halt in the middle of the roof. Even though it was four in the morning, the hustle and bustle of the city noise carried all the way up here.

Why was I so worried about a future I wasn’t even sure I was going to have?

My mind was clouded with images of Noah and how I left him I didn’t realize I was standing at the edge of the roof until my foot slipped. I cursed while steading myself on my feet and stared down at the passing cars. If I was being honest, I wish I didn’t save myself from falling.

As I stood at the ledge, memories of Noah and I played in a loop in my brain as the weight on my chest caved in. Two hearts that beat in sync but they could never be.

When he first stepped off the bus, taking all the breath out of my lungs.

The day at the zoo where he bought me the stuffed wolf; the one Trey tossed out of the bus in his rage.

Our afternoon at the beach where we had a heart to heart conversation, one of many, and it made me realize Noah was someone I could trust. He made me feel so free and alive that day; like the crow.

When he analyzed my lyrics that first night of tour in the green room and how passionate he looked.

A choked sob crawled out of my throat when the memory of the night we lost Keaton slammed into me. Then his funeral and how broken Noah was that entire day. I thought I lost him into the darkness that was grief but no, quite the opposite happened. My lips tingled as I remebered our first kiss, the one we shared that night.

I should have known how fucked I would be for Noah Sebastian from that moment.

“Fuck!” I screamed while falling to my knees, sobs plowing through my entire body.

My chest finally caved in, bones crushing into dust, as that negative voice that buried itself so deep within years ago continued to chastise me for my decision.

You’re a fucking idiot.

How could you leave him like that?

He begged you to come back. He wanted you to stay until the morning.

Did you expect him to be okay with never having a family?

What man doesn’t want a future like that?

I told you he wouldn’t want to stick by all that bullshit.

“Stop it!” I smacked my palms onto my forehead repeatedly to quiet the voices.

It didn’t work; they only got louder and more persistent.

I tried to tell you, babe. Being with him only leads to heartbreak.

“Just get out! Get out of my head! I beg, please, just get out! Get out of my head before I cave in!” I screamed, now digging my palms into my eyes.

I was absolutely exhausted and unbelievably unhappy. I hated myself and was so angry for what I did. Noah and I were so happy and to see him smile that grin, the corners of his eyes crinkling made my heart burn in my throat. The tattoos that covered his toned stomach with slight pudge in the center. Soft skin and a comfortable smell I wanted to be buried in.

A mochi. My mochi.

No, not yours. You walked away.

I ruined it. I possibly, could have, most definitely destroyed the best thing that could have happened to me, besides this band. My hands shook, my body, my knees were weak. I should have stopped by my hotel room to bring some alcohol with me on this venture up here but knew if Chase or Malcolm saw me, they’d want to know what happened.

Shit.

Everyone had to know by now what happened, I’m sure they do.

Oh god, what did I do? To hurt Noah was like walking on broken glass. I never wanted to hurt him.

But you did, you bitch, you did!

“Oh Keaton,” I sobbed on my knees. “I ruined everything. You knew him better than me, what would he have done if I told him the truth and stayed!?”

Besides Chase and Malcolm, Keaton knew about my secrets only because he was there when the pain was unbearable. He helped me through it. So now, in this desperate time of need and confusion, I called out to the one person who couldn’t give me an answer.

CHASE

“Fuck, what do you think happened?” Malcolm wondered while tossing on a sweater.

I quickly stepped into a pair of sweatpants then ran a hand over my buzzed head. “I don’t know. But whatever it was, fucked both of them up.”

His hands shook as he tried to type something out on his phone and knowing Malcolm better than anyone, I knew he was seconds away from his own panic attack.

“Steven,” he wiggled his phone. “He’s wondering if there’s anything they can do to help find her?”

“No,” I said a little too quickly. “Tell them to take care of Noah; we’ll take care of Y/N.”

She was our responsibility; we made that promise to her father years ago when he came to visit. He couldn’t watch after her so he entrusted us to. We failed with Trey; we let him burry his claws so deep into her and now we’re afraid that whatever happened with Noah we wouldn’t be able to get her back.

Malcolm realized that too because his hands shook and breathing became uneven.

“Hey,” I said softly while covering his hands with my own. “We’ll find her, we always do.”

“I know,” he swallowed. “I’m just-worried. She told me earlier that she was going by Noah’s room to hang out. I didn’t think-.”

I cupped his cheek and pressed a tender kiss to his lips. “Why don’t you stay here in case, she comes back. I think I know where she might be.”

Malcolm eased into my touch, emerald eyes glowing from the moonlight casting in through the window, and if it was any other moment, I’d tell him I love him.

He knew already, but I still liked to remind him.

“I love you,” he breathed a long deep breath.

With a final kiss, I muttered I loved him back against his lips, before pocketing my phone and slipping out of the room. I didn’t bother checking throughout the hotel for her. There’s only one place she’d be.

The roof.

Y/N’s always had this fascination with behind higher than others. She wanted to feel like one of the Gods on Mount Olympus. But I didn’t doubt right now, she felt smaller than a peasant in past Athens.

The door to the roof was open, cold winds blowing down the fire escape stairs as I reached the top, eyes immediately landing on a figure curled up with their knees to their chest, sobs being drowned out by the noise from down below in the streets.

Panic set deep within my stomach as I neared her. “Y/N?”

At first my voice was quiet, so I said her name again, this time deeper; louder as I kneeled in front of her. “Y/N!”

Her eyes struggled to open due to how swollen they were from her crying, mascara running down her cheeks and staining her face.

“Sweets,” I sighed with slumped shoulders.

“Chase?” My name came out raw, a clear sign that her voice had gone horse; from what, I wasn’t sure.

“What are you doing up here?” I questioned while taking off my sweater and wrapping it around her shoulders.

She was only wearing shorts and a t-shirt. Her lips were blue from the cold of the predawn air and she shivered as I rubbed my hands up and down her arms.

“Oh, gods. What did we do?” Y/N cried while falling into my chest.

For a moment, I didn’t move her although I knew I needed to get her inside to warm up, but I decided another minute wouldn’t hurt. She needed that extra minute to let out all of her pent-up feelings and doubt. Something happened in that room between her and Noah tonight and I didn’t care how long it took, she would tell us what happened.

I hushed her cries with a soothing hand to her back, cradling her, until the cries lessened and her body went limp against me; she must have dozed off again. So lifting her into my arms, I carried her back down the stairs towards our floor and as I turned the corner, our room only two doors down, I stopped mid-step when my eyes landed on Steven and Matt.

Anger filled me for the briefest of moments but I tried to let it go. None of knew what happened so it wouldn’t be right for me to get upset with either of them. They weren’t in the room with Noah and Y/N.

“She okay?” Matt asked.

I nodded. “Found her up on the roof. She’s fucking freezing and I don’t know how long she was up there for.”

Steven sighed while running a hand over his tired face. “I’m glad she’s alright; given the circumstances. We’ll let the others know.”

Not bothering to say anything else, I stepped between the two of them so they could get a good look at how broken Y/N was; blue lips, puffy eyes, and face stained with makeup and tears. Noah wasn’t the only one hurting, she was too.

When I knocked on the hotel room door, I could physically see the relief fall away from Malcolm’s shoulders as he opened the door, letting me step inside.

“Get the blankets,” I motioned towards the bed.

He pulled them away so I could lay Y/N gently into the bed, both of us covering her with the mounds of blankets; and a few from the closet. As I stepped away to let her sleep, cold fingers wrapped tightly around my wrist.

“Chase.”

My name came out broken on her chattering lips and I laid a gentle hand on her face. “Get some rest, sweets. We can talk in the morning.”

She shook her head. “No, I n-nee-need-.”

Malcolm sat on the edge of the bed next to her while I stood behind him. “What do you need?”

“No-Noah,” Y/N forced out through the chills her body continued to attack her with.

“Y/N,” I sighed. “He’s not in a good place right now.”

Her eyes glimmered with tears before they fell from her eyes in groves. “It’s all my fault.”

Malcolm tensed under my touch on his shoulder. “What happened?”

Y/N remained silent as she stared up at the ceiling for a few long beats then she turned over in bed so she could face towards us, clutching the pillow closer to her chest.

Now I kneeled down in front of her so I could look directly into her eyes. “You need to tell us what happened.”

Malcolm wiped away her tears as she let out an unsteady breath. “I asked him a stupid fucking question.”

“What did you ask Noah?”

There was a slight hesitation in her words. “Where he wanted to be in 10 years.”

Malcolm and I shared a look with each other, not sure how that simple question could cause this much damage between them. Y/N could read us like a book, from start to end, so she immediately knew what we were thinking.

“Noah said one day, he wants a family, a dog and cats and a little wooden house,” she explained flatly.

Then it all clicked into place, the puzzle of the night with that simple word; family.

That subject always had been a sore subject with Y/N so we never brought it up. We knew how hard she had to work for things, especially that, so it was understandable why she freaked out the way she did.

“Sweets, it’s alright,” I cooed while brushing the hair away from her face. “He didn’t know.”

Malcolm agreed with a nod while rubbing her back. “I’m sure if you talk to him about it, Noah will understand.”

Suddenly, she was pushing away from us and stumbling out of the bed, both of us watching her pace with worry in our eyes.

“You guys don’t understand the pain. You don’t know how he looked!” Y/N pounded her chest. “It’s like a huge hole has been punched through my chest. This pain is the reminder, he is real.”

“Y/N,” I cautioned while rising to my feet and slowly walked over to her. “Everything will be alright.”

She jerked her hand away from me. “No, it won't! I did what I always do, Chase! I panicked and ran away. I so badly wanted to stay. Fuck, you guys should have seen his face when he asked me to stay- the crinkles, the cheeks, so sweet I just- I can’t believe I did this. I’m so damaged, guys, so damaged.”

I stood there frozen, unsure how to console Y/N because we’d never seen her like this; so broken. Tears fell from her eyes as her chest caved in with each deep, stuttering breath. As Malcolm pulled her into his arms, I took out my phone and typed out a message to Nicholas.

I know what happened.

MALCOLM

“Are you sure you two will be alright?” I asked while adjusting the bag on my shoulder.

Chase nodded while wrapping a protective arm around Y/N’s shoulder; she hasn’t slept since he brought her back into the room just a few hours ago. She was running on fumes, we all were, but I knew the long day she had ahead of her. She needed every ounce of energy she could find.

“We’re mostly going to pick up Salem,” Chase said.

Fuck, the cat.

I cringed at the mention of Y/N’s cat; soul as dark as its fur.

“I swear that cat fucking hates me,” I grumbled while leaning closer into Chase.

He chuckled while leaning up to kiss me, since I was a few inches taller than him. “I would say thats not true but we all know it is.”

Y/N let out a soft chuckle. “I’ll do my best to make sure he stays out of your guys’ room.”

I had to admit; it was really good to hear her laugh, even if it was a quiet one.

“You sure you don’t want me to come with you?” I asked.

Her face flinched with my words but she quickly recovered. “Yeah, we’ll be fine.”

“Last call for flight 3E for Los Angeles. Now boarding.”

The three of us glanced over towards the group of people that were sitting in the same lounge we were. Nicholas was sitting next to Noah, who refused to lift his gaze from the chip nail polish on his fingers. Jolly was talking with Folio and when he felt us staring, Nicholas gave a curt nod to Chase.

Without Y/N noticing, he pulled out his phone to send a text to Nicholas. After we told him we knew what happened, we promised we would tell him everything; about Y/N, her condition, and why she left.

“Do you?” I asked Y/N, nodding towards Bad Omens.

She shook her head, not daring to look any of them in the eye. “I can’t.”

“Okay,” I smiled weakly. “Call me when you guys land, I want to make sure everything goes smoothly.”

Chase and I shared a kiss before I pulled Y/N into my chest, her arms wrapping around me.

“Thank you,” she muttered into my shirt.

It was hard for me to show affection but for her; I found it easier.

I placed a kiss on top of her head. “Anytime, buttercup.”

With a final wave towards the two people that mean everything to me, I turned my back and fell into line with the large group of others that were flying back to Los Angeles. I stood a few spaces behind Noah, who could barley lift his head up, the weight of what happened last night pressing down on his shoulders. Guilt ate away at my insides knowing that I could fix it but it wasn’t my place too. The part of me that needed to fix the bad with something good was overpowering. Any time something got too tense or awkward, I was always there to smooth it over with my humor; but this wasn’t one of those times.

“Hey.”

Turning on my heels, I gave a small smile towards Jolly. “What’s up, man?”

“You’re not going to Vegas?”

We both took a step forward as the line moved slowly. “No, I’m heading back to LA to get our new place set up.”

“Right,” Jolly nodded. “You’re only a few miles from us now.”

“Yea.”

Silence fell between us and I shifted on my feet, my anxiety about this whole situation suddenly becoming too overbearing. I felt as if my lungs were being crushed from the inside out. Knowing that someone I loved was hurting because of a choice they made killed me. I wanted to fix things. I needed to fix this. It’s what I’d done all my life as the middle child. I was there to fix my younger brothers smile when our dad hit him a little too hard. I was there to fix my mom when my dad took his anger out on her instead. I hated not being able to fix the division that stood between Noah and Y/N.

Breathe, Chase’s voice cooed in my mind. Deep breath in, long breath out.

“They’ll be alright,” Jolly’s voice broke me out of my inducing panic.

We watched Noah’s head lift finally from the ground as the flight for Las Vegas was called. His eyes danced around the room, searching for someone, but it was too late. Y/N and Chase had made it to the other end of the airport, their flight leaving minutes after ours. Defeat and possibly anger radiate off of Noah as he handed his boarding pass to the attendant behind the desk and grumbled his thanks before slipping down the long hallway towards the plane.

“She didn’t mean to break him,” I defended Y/N. “She’s going through something that takes a lot out of her every month. It’s a constant battle between what she wants and what her body needs.”

“I know,” Jolly nodded. “We’re here if any of you guys want to talk.”

I bumped fists with him. “Thanks, man.”

READER

There’s a thousand voices in my head, all saying the same fucking thing, and I hoped they didn’t take a rope around my neck.

Pathetic.

You can’t give him what he wants.

He won’t wait for you. He’ll find it with someone else.

I slammed the pillow over my head to smother the voices away. The darkness that clouded over my room did nothing to help the raging pain that pounded within the confines of my skull. Everything hurt and screamed for release but I did nothing. I’d rather let my body succumb to it than ease it because once the pain was gone, memories of Noah crept back in and I didn’t want to be reminded of what I did.

How beautiful his face looked when he asked me to say until morning.

How broken his face looked when I said no.

And how destroyed his face was when he begged me to come back.

Noah’s face haunted me every single night the last two weeks that I refused to sleep for longer than a few hours because I would eventually wake with a scream, his name echoing off my walls. The guilt of walking away sat heavy on my chest as I sat in bed, scattered pens, papers, and a fully charged laptop at my feet.

Rain pelted hard against the large windows of my bedroom and I sighed, knowing there was another full day of storm's head; figuratively and literally.

Salem’s soft meow broke me from my frozen trace and I picked him up from the floor to set him in my lap. He purred loudly as I scratched his head, letting the softness of his black fur calm my racing heart.

“I know Chase already fed you, stop trying to get second breakfast.”

It had been a few weeks since I moved in with Chase and Malcolm, all of us falling into living together quite fast, until the pandemic hit and forced us inside. I didn’t mind it, being holed up in my room with my writing and Salem, but Chase was going stir crazy. He was the social one out of the three of us, and knowing he couldn’t go out to see friends or even go for a hike was making him bang his head against the wall.

Malcolm, on the other hand, loved staying home. He spent the time writing music on his bass or baking bread. According to Chase, the first few batches weren’t that great, but he didn’t dare tell Malcolm that.

I stayed in my room most of the day, only seeing one of them when they occasionally checked in on me or brought me something to eat; like right now.

A soft knock on my door made me tear my gaze away from the page full of lyrics.

“Hey sweet,” Chase said while leaning against the doorframe. “Are you hungry?”

I shook my head.

Salem jumped off of my lap and scurried towards the light that poured in from the hallway, clearly having enough of the dark somber of my bedroom.

“You have to eat something,” Chase sat at the end of my bed.

I pulled my knees to my chest and rested my chin on them. “I’m not hungry. I’ll come down and eat something for lunch soon.”

“It’s almost six in the evening, Y/N,” he sighed. “You’ve been up here all day.”

Shit, have I?

Glancing to the clock on my nightstand, I realized he was right.

“Oh,” I shrugged. “I’ve been busy.”

Chase pointed to the papers in front of me, a silent way of asking if he could read it so I agreed with a nod.

I wanna feel something. That's not the touch of your breath on my neck. I wanna feel something. That's not the weight of your world in my head. And all the walls are caving in.

“This is really good,” he mused while handing it back to me.

I simply hummed in response, not exactly sure what he wanted me to say.

“Anything else?” I asked after some silence, keeping my eyes trained hard to the rain splashing against the window behind Chase.

His jaw ticked. “You’re killing yourself, Y/N. I hate seeing you like this.”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. Just call him and explain-.”

My eyes snapped over to Chase. “No, there’s nothing to fucking explain. I walked away from him, I hurt him, Chase. He won’t forgive me.”

“You don’t-.”

“Yes, I do! You don’t see what I see!” I pointed to my head. “Every fucking night his face haunts me. I can’t sleep, I can’t eat because it makes me fucking sick.”

I choked on a sob as tears slipped from my eyes down to the scatter of pages on my bed. My cries drowned out the rain as Chase pulled me down to bed, letting me lay against his chest, the wetness of my mistakes staining his shirt.

Memories of Noah will always fucking haunt me; how devastated he looked as I turned my back to him. I tried to force them away by thinking of anything else but truth was is I didn’t think he was going anywhere, soon. I’ve done some things that I can’t speak and I tried to wash Noah away, but he wouldn’t leave. Although, part of me was almost begging him to keep haunting me just, so I had an excuse to see his face.

I think I’m possessed, that was the only explanation. He put a fever inside me and I’ve been cold since I left him in that room weeks ago.

CHASE

I walked passed Y/N’s door again; she needed to eat. She hasn’t eaten anything since dinner last night and that was a small bowl of cereal. It was nearly two in the afternoon and if she continued at this rate, she’d be a mess of skin and bones. I was supposed to be out with Malcolm but felt as if I should stay back. Something was deep-rooted in my gut that I needed to be home with Y/N today.

My knuckles raised to the wood of her door, ready to knock, but stopped when I heard that song play yet again. Y/N’s had it on repeat every day for the last three days, nothing else coming from her room besides Keaton’s voice.

Fuck, why did she have to torture herself like this?

I sighed, knowing this was going to be a whirlwind, and pressed my ear to the door. Her soft, broken, voice singing. Suddenly the music stopped for a few seconds before Y/N replayed it and got louder.

Who was she talking to?

“How can you say this was all part of your plan, start explaining?”

“I knew you wanted me to meet him! I fucking knew it! Well guess what, Keaton?! I did; I fucking did, and now look! Look what happened!”

Keaton.

I ran a hand over my buzzed head and quickly typed out a message to Malcolm, who was out shopping. Since the ban had been lifted a few days ago, we were planning a small vacation just the two of us in a few weeks and he was buying things we needed.

Well, as long as Y/N was in the right headspace, we would leave her. But with what I was hearing on the other side of the door, I was afraid our vacation would have to get pushed back.

She’s blasting Eiley again. But now she’s talking to Keaton, blaming him for her meeting Noah. I don’t know what else to do, Mal.

What sounded like something falling over and breaking made me press my hear against the door again.

“Left with this hole, six feet of dirt I can’t fill,” Y/N’s raw but powerful voice called out into the air.

My phone buzzed with a text from Malcolm.

We need to talk with Nick. There’s not much else we can do, babe.

I sighed, knowing he was right, and quickly sent a text to Nick to see if he was free sometime next week. I remember him saying in our Hollow Omens group chat he was flying back from Virgina on Friday to see everyone.

Of course, neither Noah nor Y/N would ever respond in the chat, not wanting to risk saying something to each other. Maybe if they did, she wouldn’t be talking to the ghost of her best friend.

“Oh god, it hurts,” she wailed and I could picture her clutching her chest. “Why did I do this? Why did you fucking leave us both like this?”

A loud thud had me taking a step away from the door, thinking she was about to come barreling through but realized she was throwing things against the door and walls of her bedroom.

“I’m no better than you! I fucking left him. He wanted me, all of me, and I fucking left!”

“Oh, sweets,” I let out a shaky breath, hands reaching for the doorknob.

“He was mine, he was mine!”

She was mine; she was mine!

I hesitated opening the door at what I heard. Did she? Did Y/N change the lyrics of the song so it was as if she was saying Noah was hers?

Something fell to the floor, glass shattering, and Y/N’s ear piercing screams dug the knife deeper into my heart and I slammed through the door, it slamming against the wall next to me. All the blood drained from my face at the scene in front of me; Y/N was curled up on the floor crying, a framed photo on the floor smashed to pieces. She was clutching a piece of glass in her hand, droplets of blood falling to the wood floor beneath her.

“Fuck, Y/N!” I cursed while sliding on my knee’s in front of her to snatch the piece of glass from her tight grip, slicing my fingers. “Oh, come on sweets, get up! Don’t-don’t do this.”

Fear of what would have happened if I went out with Malcolm dug their nails into me but I refused to acknowledge the pain. Not right now, I can think of the what if’s later. Righ now, Y/N needed me.

Hollow, sunken, and bloodshot eyes stared up at me through the tears that clouded her vision. “I ruined everything, I ruined everything! His face! You didn’t see it! You don’t know!”

Her ramblings had been the same for a month now, never changing.

“Sweets, hey, it’s okay.” I cupped her face. “You didn’t, you’ll figure this out! You’ll talk to him, he’s not gone for good, Y/N. He’s here, he’s here.”

It killed me holding her; she was in agony. She felt like she ended Noah for good. It was almost as if she confused her feelings of grief and heartbreak into two. Noah was alive, his flesh and blood was still awake, he was numbing but he was there. She needed to remember this; she needed to know the feelings she was suffering through had a chance to get better.

“He’ll never see me the same,” Y/N kicked the broken frame away from us but I could see what picture it held; Noah and her at the zoo while they waited for the wolves to come out of hiding.

Unbeknownst to them at the time, I smacked Bryan’s chest so he could take a few pictures of them.

“Just give it time, just give it time.” I said while holding her, rocking her back and forth.

A little kiss on her head. My sister, my friend.

MALCOLM

“Hey sugar baklava,” I knocked on the door frame to Y/N’s room.

She was sitting at the large bay window, sunshine brushing its bright rays across her pale face and dark floors. It's been a few days since Chase found her with the piece of glass in her hand and ever since then, we made it a rule that she had to keep her door open. We didn’t care if she continued to hide away up here but the door needed to be open. It might have been a teenager rule, but we didn’t want to take any chances. We already knew she was hiding things from us so this was the only way.

“Where’s your head at?” I leaned up against the wall while crossing my arms over my chest.

Y/N chuckled at the nickname but I could see there was no light behind those usual bright eyes. She’d been sitting in that same spot for the last day and a half; hair not washed since I can’t remember when, clothes piled up, notebooks out with a variety of lyrics scribbled on every pages and her laptop always had a full charge due to the plug remaining inside it.

Through the pain, she smiled up at me. “Just the usual, contemplating my fucked life and all its wonders.”

I inhaled deeply while stiffing up straight. “I know what you’re going to say, but you are more than welcome to hang out with us at Applebees later. They have dollarRitas.”

“Thank you, maybe,” she smiled weakly.

“I’m worried about you.” I sighed with concern. “We all are.”

Salem clawed his way out from underneath her bed to stretch wide in the one spot on the floor the sun touched. If it wasn’t for that furry little creature that hated my guts, I don’t want to think of where Y/N would be right now.

“I’ll be fine,” she reassured while holding up a granola bar. “Bring me back some tacos?”

“Deal,” I smiled.

Turning my back to leave, her voice called after me. “Mind feeding Salem on your way out?”

My eyes cast down to my feet as the black cat sat between them, dark green eyes staring deep into my soul.

“Fuck, Y/N. Your cat wants to kill me,” I shivered at the thought.

She chuckled. “As long as you feed him, you’ll live!”

MALCOLM

The noise of the city faded to a dull buzz as I set down my second empty margarita class and pushed away the rest of my lunch. We were sitting on the patio at Applebee’s, the warm Los Angeles air doing nothing to ease the shake in my bones.

“How’s she doing?”

I nodded towards Nick who sat across from Chase and I. “Depends on the day you ask. But after the other day, we’re watching her like a hawk.”

He raised a brow. “What happened?”

Chase and I shared a look before eventually telling Nick about catching her with a piece of glass in her hand.

“You don’t think-?”

“I don’t know what to think, man,” Chase took a long drink of his beer. “I catch her breaking shit then holding a piece of glass in her hand so tight she cuts herself? Thankfully, she didn’t need stitches but if I wasn’t home, who knows what could have happened. She’s playing with her health and I don’t know what to do to help her.”

“What do you mean?” Nick wondered.

I ran a hand through my hair and sighed. “She hasn’t been taking her medication. There’s at least six more pills than there should be. And two extra vials.”

“What about Noah?” Chase asked, suddenly not wanting to change the subject.

He adjusted the sunglasses that was perched on his nose. “His drinking is getting worse. We want to be stoked because he’s written two really great songs but the alcohol dulls the excitement.”

Chase spun the ice in his drink with the straw and sighed. “Y/N has Eiley on blast until 2 am, hunched over in pain and screaming into her pillows. Writing at random. It’s killing me, to watch her like this.”

“Noah’s been playing Sympathy a lot too, while downing the bottle of whiskey and writing. A fuckin mess, man,” Nick leaned back into the chair.

“Can I tell you something?” Chase asked.

“Shoot,” Nick nodded.

“If fucking hurts to hear this but sometimes, when she plays Eiley, so faintly I can hear her singing. There’s a part in the song where Keaton’s broken as he says she was mine-fuck- I hear Y/N sometimes crying and changes the words-.”

Chase paused, trying to find the right was to convey what he was feeling and Nick tilted his head in wonder.

“He’s mine, he was mine. He was mine,” I finished for Chase, knowing he wouldn’t be able to get the words out.

“She regrets it all, Nick.” Chase rested his arms on the table so he could look directly at Nick. “I think-no I know, she loves him. Y/N fell for him so hard, and I don’t think she’ll ever forgive herself for leaving that room.”

“I know,” he sighed. “That’s why I’m on her side for this as well. You told me what she’s going through, it makes sense why she freaked out the way she did.”

I shifted in my seat. “Did you tell Noah?”

“No,” Nick firmly shook his head. “That's something you two or Y/N has to tell him.”

Chase reached for my hand under the table and once our fingers were linked, I gave Nick my best stern gaze. “We have to do something.”

For a long few beats, we were silent, thinking of ways that we could help these two talk again. They weren’t going to do it on their own; the needed help.

“We’ll shoot them both a text,” Nick began. “Same time, telling them to get their heads out of their asses, because let’s be real- they’re stubborn as hell and won’t listen to us directly. They need an outsider to call them both out to wake the hell up.”

“So what? I text Noah while you text Y/N?” Chase wondered.

Nick nodded. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. They need help, they both do, desperately and they need each other. They’re just being ridiculous about it.”

There was a clear hesitation in my expression with Nick's idea. “You know it’s not gonna magically happen over night though right?”

“Of course not, but I have a hunch it’ll work,” Nick assured while throwing some money on the table for his lunch.

“What we need to do is get them to seek help. They have soon many unresolved issues, deep-seeded. They need to get help and get them to at least be friends again. They’re in love with each other. That won’t change, but the circumstances have to.”

READER

The pillows muffled my screams as I clutched my abdomen, the stabbing, sheering pain spreading through my veins like wildfire. Every fiber of my existence was screaming at me to stop the pain, make it all go away, but I ignored it. I needed to feel this; it was the only thing that made me feel anything at all.

Eiley played on a loop through my speakers as I spoke into the air above me.

“Choose me over him, I often wonder why.”

“How can I face him again, Keaton? How? How can I ease the pain, he’s mine. He was mine.”

Rolling over to my other side once the pain stopped for a few moments, I started at the basket on top of my nightstand. 1, 2, 3, 4, bottles, and one syringe. They just stare at me. I counted each bottle, and that syringe repeatedly. A reminder of the work it takes to make myself normal. A reminder of what happens every month like fucking clockwork. A reminder that no man would ever want to stay with me and deal with this alongside me.

“Noah would,” I muttered into the pillow that was stained with my tears.

Yeah? Well you ruined that, sweetie.

I’ve had fans ask me, “how do I keep myself from losing myself entirely?” All I can tell them is that it can’t rain all the time. I hide the pain behind a smile and slip into a parallel universe.

I’m constantly making a series of small holes in a row, mistakes I made in my membrane between here and there until an opening exists. And who can resist an opening?

So do I take the meds? Or do I lay here and rot?

I’ll take them tomorrow. It’s already too late in the day, no need to take them.

It was the same thing I told myself every morning when I would wake up and stare at the medication. The same thing for the last month.

Maybe if I stopped taking them, I would go back to my natural state. I could succumb to the natural order of things, or maybe the pain would be so severe I’d be fine with dying.

Okay.

No. Stop. Stop that!

The voices continued to fight with each other as I dug my palms into my eyes, hoping his haunting face would leave; even for a few seconds.

Maybe I could wait for the dust to settle.

Eiley started playing yet again and I narrowed my eyes up towards the ceiling. “If this is all part of your plan, Keaton then start explaining because this is fucking bullshit. You wanted us together, well fucking give me a sign it’s worth it.”

I stared at those bottles and wondered why any of this mattered when my phone buzzed from underneath my pillow. Groaning, I had every intention of ignoring it, thinking it was the Hollow Omens group chat of Folio saying something he thought was funny; most of the time it was. But today, the pain was so debilitating that I wasn’t in the mood for jokes.

Nicholas: Hi.

I sucked in a breath, not expecting a solo text from him. I wanted to leave him on read because there was no reason for him to be texting me. What’s there to say? He's my friend, but Noah is his brother, why would he care about me at all? I hurt his friend.

But.

That one word weighed heavy on my mind as my shaking fingers typed out two letters back.

Hi

The bubbles popped up and stopped, then popped up again, before proceeding to another text.

I hope you’re alright, Y/N. and doing okay. I hear you moved in with the guys, a great idea and I’m glad you’re settled in.

That message I left on read only because I was hunched over my bed now, dry heaving saliva into the bowl that had a permanent spot next to my bed on the floor. The pain was becoming too much; like an animal with razor like claws were digging through my skin to be set free. My stomach was being ripped to shreds.

It wasn’t until almost an hour later once the pain and my screams of agony finally stopped that I had the courage to look at my phone; the text from Nick smacking me in my face.

Y/N, first I just wanna say this: it isn’t my business to step in or to make assumptions I know everything. I had a talk with Chase and Malcolm, and I understand to a degree what you’re feeling right now. I will admit, I was angry at you; you hurt my friend. Noah isn’t doing well right now, but he’s trying. However, I’m trying to remain mutual about this. I see what you both have; I see what you’re both capable of even if you don’t right now. He needs something; he needs someone stable in his life who can give him the comfort he’s been searching for; I thought that could be you; you acted as if it was. Maybe it still is?

Ten minutes in between this text and the next one.

I would never step in and say something like this to anyone, but because of our current friendship and the situation that’s in front of us, I had to. Because I care about you both. Noah deserves better than what you did; he deserves better than walking out with more questions than answers. But you deserve better than the trauma Trey left you with. My friend’s not perfect but he’s not that fucking guy. All I ask is that you dig deep and see that you can really work through this. Not just alone but together. Don’t be a stranger, Y/N. Please don’t. We miss you.

My eyes blinked a few times at the screen, wondering if what I just read actually was there. Everything Nick said was one hundred percent the truth. Especially the part where Noah deserves better than what I did. But so did I. I also deserved better than what Trey left me with.

I gazed back up towards the ceiling, a small smile pulling at the corners of my lips. “Thanks, Keaton.”

READER

When I was supposed to be awake, I was asleep. When I was supposed to sleep, I was silent. When a pleasure offered itself to me, I avoided it. I wrote that fucking song repeatedly, a better perspective- a perspective of what I wanted to do that night.

I’ll face my fear of the cold nights

When you leave me behind

I felt your hands in my hair

I felt your breath on my neck

Yeah, I need to feel you again

Just wanted to say good night

Our eyes fighting the light

But I’m not ready to say good night oh

I try and hold on tight ‘cause it’s just not time to say good night

To say good night

One song completed last week and another one just needing the finishing touches. It was all falling into place; well, most things. All I wanted was for Noah to call me when he woke up. I wanted to be in his sweet dreams. But almost three days after Nick texted me, my phone remained silent. Nothing, no texts or calls from Noah. Which at the moment was fine because currently, Malcolm and Chase stood at the foot of my bed with their arms crossed over their broad chests, eyes staring daggers into me.

“The syringe?” Chase asked.

I nodded. “This morning.”

“Pills?” Malcolm then questioned.

Playfully rolling my eyes, I filled my palm with the variety of differnt pills and tossed them into my mouth, swallowing them down with the orange juice they’d brought up minutes ago. I even opened my mouth wide to show them I wasn’t hiding them under my tongue.

Malcolm physically relaxed but Chase wasn’t convinced quite yet.

“Did you call?”

I groaned. “Yes, dad. I have an appointment on Tuesday at ten in the morning. Did you want to drive me there too?”

“You bet your ass I am,” he narrowed his eyes before breaking out into a huge smile. “I’m proud of you, sweets.”

“Me too, buttercup,” Malcolm ruffled my hair.

I playfully smacked his hand away before motioning towards the open door of my room. “Feel free to close it on your way out.”

Salem meowed from his perched on the open window and I realized it was nearing five in the evening. “Oh, dinner time.”

I went to stand from the bed but Malcolm playfully pushed me back down.

“I got it. Let’s go, Salem,” he tapped his thigh a few times, my cat quickly following out of the room.

Chase watched with amazement in his eyes as I let out a lighthearted laugh, one that he hadn’t heard in so long, no doubt.

“What?” I asked, grabbing my phone that buzzed on my bed.

He shrugged before walking out. “Nothing, it’s good to hear that laugh again.”

Smiling, I looked down at my phone but nearly dropped it as I read the message over and over again. Chase noticed my face right before he stepped through the doorway and motioned towards my phone.

“Who is it?”

Mochi 🧋🥟: Hi.

My heart hammered against my chest and it felt like I couldn’t breathe, the butterflies in my stomach fluttering wildly with life I thought would never return.

“Shit, shit.” I muttered while showing Chase the message.

“Well fucking answer him, Y/N.”

“I- what do I say?” I asked as my breathing became erratic.

Fuck, it was like I was a teenager texting her crush for the first time.

“Start with a simple hello. Today’s the first day of you getting your life back in order.” Chase left a kiss to the top of my head before leaving me alone to my own choices.

I stared down at the phone, thumbs hovering over the screen, wondering what the fuck I was going to do.

Do I take Chase’s advice and get my life back in order? Or do I remember all the pain and agony, dark nights where I contemplated ending it all?

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian and reader #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian reader insert #noah sebastian smut #enemies to lovers #right person wrong time #starcrossed lovers

[asumofwords]

Smoke, Fire and Ash

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death, forced marriage, and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Masterlist

Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Note: Hello babies, wooooooo only 2 more chapters to go. The last chapter is next, and then we have the Epilogue.... HOLY FUCKKKKKKKKKKK! I can't believ it honestly!! How crazy is that? Anyway... Enjoy <3

Chapter 108: Ash 

On the grass before the mouth of Blackwater Rush, fire consumed the bodies of those who had been responsible for crowning Aegon as King, and aiding in keeping him there.

The people who had aided in keeping you trapped in the walls of the Red Keep, to be subjected to two brothers cruelties. Those who had broken their oaths to your mother, to King Viserys, those who had turned cloak against them.

Lady Alicent Hightower, a woman who was conniving and bitter, a woman who conspired against your mother, was now naught but a charred and blackened lump on the grass, surrounded by her peers.

She had screamed out into the air, much as they had, but it was short lived as Vermithor’s flames consumed them, until soon enough, their bodies, and hers, were charred and nothing but ash and bones.

And you watched them burn, as their cries of agony became silenced, until all that could be heard was the flames that roared from your dragons mouth until he pulled away growling beside you. You looked at those accountable, and felt nothing but triumph. 

Joy.

Elation.

As though you were drunk, or high on the milk of the poppy or the sweetest and richest of ale from Dorne.

Of no doubt were you angry, vengeful, and out for blood, but in that moment, watching them die? It was sweeter than any honeyed wine in Essos, any spiced wine from Dorne. Sweeter than the nectar of any star fruit, or the taste of lemon tarts.

It was cathartic. 

It was justice.

And it was final.

They were gone, just like the others, and an example of what was to come if anyone dared try to question or go against the Queen again.

You would make sure of that.

Your father would make sure of that.

But despite the sense of finalisation of your mothers rule, there was something that pulled at your gut, a whispering in the back of your mind, and almost nagging that you knew, not all was done, and that there was something else that you still needed to do.

You turned, pressing a hand to Vermithor’s neck, patting over his scales as his crackling purr came out loudly into the air. You whispered to him, that you missed him, that he did a good job, and that you would be right back to be with him again.

The dragon huffed, spreading its wings wide before moving to take off into the sky again, flying down and around the cliff to make his way to the entrance of the Dragon Pit.

The Lords and guards dispersed slowly, casting back feeble glances at the smoking bodies of the traitors before making their way back inside of the Keep. You walked with determination, strides confident, until you stood before your parents, who looked at you with pride. 

“There is something I need to do.”

Daemon and Rhaenyra cast uneasy glances at each other before looking back at you. Rhaenyra’s mouth opened, lips parting to speak.

“I promise I will return.” You assured them.

As though Rhaenyra knew of what you meant, and Daemon sensing such shortly after, the Queen nodded to you, and pressed a hand against your cheek as she kissed the other, thrice, allowing for you to walk back inside of the Keep silently.

Aemond’s chambers were open, and as you walked inside, the smell of blood flooded your senses. Your stomach roiled, tears gathering in your eyes, but you steeled yourself with a steady breath, counting in your head as you walked. 

But by the thirteenth step, when you finally reached his bed, you were met with nothing but a pile of bloodied sheets and pillows, the red having turned brown and crusted, an almost outline of his body pressed into where he had laid.

As you looked at the empty bed, you felt his presence beside you. 

In your periphery, Aemond stood at your side in black, looking down at the bed he had passed in. His hair was pulled back in the small braids you had coaxed him to wear, and his usual sweeping black coat was atop his broad chest.

His face however, was impassive. Not sad, nor angry, nor relieved.

Just plain. 

Unfeeling.

Unmoving. 

A stark difference to Helaena or Lucerys.

Silver hair shifted over his shoulder as he turned to look at you, the sapphire of his eye catching the light in the chambers. 

Your breath caught in your throat, and a sob worked its way up as a small trickle of blood leaked from the corner of his seeing eye. But then his head kept turning, until he looked over his shoulder and down at the floor.

The Sept.

The frame of the painting was cool to the touch as you pushed it open, slipping through the dark shadows of the passage way, making your way down to the Sept. Each step had your breath hitching in your throat as you felt him follow behind you, and you had to remind yourself that he could not hurt you.

That he wasn’t real.

That he was gone.

King Aemond Targaryen lay on the cool stone slab of the Sept, still in nothing bar his bloodied breeches, not having been cleaned nor prepped for a funeral as no one knew what to do with him. 

Was he to be treated as a traitor, cut into seven pieces and mounted atop the seven gates as a warning? As a lesson?

Or was his burial to be swift, and quiet, down in the Sept, locked away beneath stone to never be seen again?

His hair was caught beneath him as you made your way over, brushing it away from his face with gentle and shaking hands. Though you knew he was dead, that he had passed and it had been at your hands, it still shocked you to find his skin so cold, so icy. So different to how it had been.

To how he would shower you in his warmth, nestled against his chest. How he would sit at your side and hold your hands in his, warm and confident. How he would press his heated lips to your cheeks, to your eyes, to your lips, the top of your hair, your hands. 

All the warmth that the man once had, that he had once given you, had bled from him at your hands.

And it hurt. 

It ached to know what you had done. 

A betrayal most foul.

A crime that you would have to live with for the rest of your days. Something that you could never forgive yourself for, and worried that the Gods would not either. That soon you would meet their punishment for having slayed him, another act of Kinslaying, a premeditated act so foul that you heaved a gag, stomach emptying beside him.

Leaning down over him, you pressed another kiss to his lips, cold and stiff beneath yours, “I’m sorry.” You whispered to him, stroking his cheek, “I am sorry for what I have done. I have betrayed you, betrayed you in a way that you did not deserve. Not in my eyes. I wish you would be here to see it all now. To see reason. If only you had seen reason, I would not have been pushed to do what I have done.”

A tear fell onto his cheek, which you wiped away with your thumb, “I do not regret it. I cannot. If I regret such an act, I will drive myself to madness. So I must live with this, Aemond. Live with knowing I have slain my love. The man whom I wed. Who I grew with. The father of my child.” 

Your sobs echoed in the Sept below, footsteps were heard behind you, their soft feet scuffling across the stone floor.

“You will always be with me.” You whispered down to Aemond’s body, hand coming to press against your stomach, “Always.”

When you turned, you came face to face with your brother Jacaerys, and behind him a Septa.

You swallowed, brushing away the tears that fell across your cheeks, “Please have his body removed and taken to the Dragon Pit.” You commanded the Septa quietly, who bowed and moved back into the shadows.

Short steps took you to Jacaerys, whose face was fraught with concern, eyes darting from you then to the body behind you.

“Walk with me.” You asked, looping a hand through his arm.

And he did.

As the two of you walked, a silence surrounded you both. One where there were too many questions left unanswered, and the static energy that flickered between you like flames made you speak first.

“I loved him.” Your voice came out unsteady, feeling Jacaerys’ eyes on you, “Against all odds, I did. And I know that I shouldn’t have, that he was cruel and unkind. That he took Lucerys from us. But I did. And I won’t apologise for it. Nor will I desperately seek the reasons as to why. It just is, and I hope that you can, some day, come to see that and forgive me.”

Jacaerys stayed quiet, holding your hand in his, his palm callused and dry, rough skin rubbing against yours.

“It has not been an easy journey here in this Keep. Being alone, subjected to their cruelty for months on end, it changes a person. But Aemond also changed, he became someone I could trust. Someone I could confide in. I know you may not belie-“

“-I believe you.” The young Prince interrupted you softly, his head turned to watch you carefully as you descended the steps toward the Dragon Pit, “I only wish that you had not been pushed to act as you have.”

You paused your steps, turning to face him.

Much of his boyishness had gone, and his face had hardened into a man, a light layer of stubble dusted his jaw and chin, and his cheeks had lost the soft charm that Lucerys had, and had hollowed to defined cheekbones.

He looked so much like Ser Harwin Strong.

“I have missed you.” You smiled tearily, patting his hand gently.

Jacaerys smiled back, leaning down to press a kiss atop your head, “And I you, more than you know.”

You resumed your walk, content to leave the quiet around you. Your challenges in the months past can be shared with your family later, perhaps when the dust has settled and all tales of survival could be told without tears. 

Perhaps then, you could tell them the truth of it all, and not just mere notes.

As you came to the Dragon Pit, the sounds of dragons filled the cavern loudly. It strange. It seemed so full of life again, many returning to a place they had not been in years, some joining for the very first time. 

You walked until the pit opened and the light from outside momentarily blinded you, causing the both of you to blink rapidly so that your eyes could adjust. Each step you took, took you closer to what you knew you needed to do. 

It was a short flight, over the beach of Kings Landing and to the rolling green hills that lay further down in the realm.

To ride upon Vermithor’s back after so long away was strange, and you could not help but cry tears of joy. But as you gripped onto him, holding a worn rope that had been slung upon his neck, you made a note to ask for a seat to be placed atop him.

No more would you ride without one.

The wind caught in your hair as he hovered above the ground, before moving slightly forward to land heavily atop the grass. You slid from his back, the view of Kings Landing behind you as the sun slowly began to set.

There on the grass, hastily wrapped in burial cloth was Aemond. 

Vermithor stretched his large head down to the body he had carried and sniffed at it, a soft cooing sound coming from deep within the bronze dragons chest. You patted his neck softly as you made your way over, looking down at the swaddled corpse before bending down to place one last kiss atop his wrapped head. 

The cream cloth had begun to stain red where some parts of blood had not dried fully and stained it burgundy. 

It was the smell that was the most horrid of it. Thick, and irony, the blood that coated his body made you breathe through your mouth in avoidance. But the breeze carried it away shortly after, and you stood back to look at the man you had loved.

A man you had grown up with, stuck to each others sides.

A man you had fought with, whether in the tunnels of the Keep, in the sky above Storms End, or the chambers that had been yours and his.

A man you had fought for.

A man who had taken so much from you, your freedom, your life, the unscarred skin of your flesh. Your brother. Your sanity.

And a man who had given you so much. 

Joy. Pleasure. A child. 

Love.

Your lips parted as you moved to speak the command, but your voice was lost with the wind as it crackled and split, a soft sob falling from your lips as tears fell from your eyes. 

Vermithor purred beside you, head nudging into your body softly as you continued to look down at his body, dry lips cracked and bitten raw as you tried to breathe the command again to the sky.

“Dr… Draca-…” Another sob, wracking your body as you smoothed your hands down against your sides. You lifted your chin high, sucking in a sharp breath, and then, you whispered it out against the wind.

A word that had been whispered in your ear for months. A word that had haunted you to no avail. A word that you didn’t wish to utter in that moment.

“Dracarys.”

The Bronze Fury reared his head back, before dropping it forward, fire engulfing the dead King’s body in flames, the sound blaring in your ears as you watched. 

It was not a pleasant smell, burnt flesh, but it dissolved quickly in the wind as his body became ash and bones, the dragon not stopping until it was sure that it was enough.

The flames subsided, and smoke rose from the ashes that lay at the scorched grass before you.

Did the Gods truly create this path for you?

A path of pain and destruction?

No end to the suffering that would follow you for the rest of your days, the shadows of the past, the whispers of those lost, the ones that you took?

There was no end to it.

No end in sight.

The smoke around you simmered away from the fire that had raged on, and now all that was left was ash. 

The ashes of the man you wished had stayed. 

The ashes of a man who had all hope taken from him as a child. 

The Gods path for him was a cruel one, starting from the moment he was born. No dragon. Loss of an eye. Everything taken from him, his life taken from him.

The chance to see and watch his child grow, taken from him.

But everything had been taken from you too.

You had lost everything.

And all for the throne. 

Was it worth it? 

All that loss? All that suffering? The scars on your body and mind? 

Was the culmination of all those worth the final moment in which you stood? 

There was no certainty into what the future would hold. 

Perhaps the Gods were not quite done with you yet, but deep down, all you could think; Was this all you had been made for?

To suffer at the hands of others?

Had you not given enough? 

Your mind, your body, your freedom, your spirit?

But Rhaenyra, your loving mother, she had given everything too. She had losses that almost mounted yours. Your brother. Her father. Your sister.

Was it worth it? 

It was then, as you looked down at the ashes, the wind blowing the blades of grass that survived around the singed patch, disturbing the embers and what little bones remained, that you saw a glint of something. 

A reminder. 

On unsteady feet, with silent tears tracking down your cheeks, you saw the round sapphire orb that you had spent what felt like an eternity looking into. 

There, on the grassy knoll, the Red Keep looming not too far way, and Vermithor shifting behind you, it was then, as you both looked at the surviving piece of Aemond, that you came to a conclusion of your questions. 

Yes, it was.

Or, it would be.

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

Tag List:

@izzicle @ej-shitchats @may-machin @alegria1580 @witchy-jadda @videovampire @inkdelicious @queteimporta39 @virtualsweetsqueen @fo-cus @auratiqs @feyres-fireheart @queenofshinigamis @asoiafwh8re @teasandcrumpets @shesjustanothergeek @grungegrrrl@queenofsarcazm @marihoneywk @curlszx88 @virgogaia @loser-keiji @asoiafwh8re @whore-of-many-hot-men @vipervixxen @theonewiththeimaginaryboyfriends @watercolorskyy @lavendervisions @mazmack666 @chokefrog @orangejump-suit @nik2blog @serrhaewinin @ohemgeewhat @winxschester @cryptidsrcool @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @celestedonut @bloodyvelvet777 @iamapersonthatsalive @av-sos @yentroucnagol @sanzu-s @opheliaas-stuff @bellameshipper @maviee @persephonerinyes @neytiri-09 @ensnaredinwonderland @xbluegracex @sotragedynut @nattieot7 @shesawaywiththefairies-blog @coffedraven @prettycutebunny @celestedonut @the-jess-life @ssulfurr @out-of-life @madislayyy @crazylokonugget @cicaspair418 @katwmk @relminnie @milovart @teagrex @visenyaverse @bellameshipper @toodlesxcuddles @tempt-ress @dontmindmereading7 @qyburnsghost @55gyi53vtnquwziq5 @notnormalthings-blog @maidmerrymint @qyburnsghost @madislayyy @chelseaouat

Bold is who I cannot tag!

#aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond x reader #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x you #aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond smut #hotd smut #dark!aemond targaryen x reader #dark!aemond x reader #dark!aemond targaryen #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #dark!aemond #dark!fic #fic #series #aemond one eye #aemond the kinslayer #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond #smoke fire and ash

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Part 2/2

(click here for part 1)

tw: violence and blood

Yves had admirers from all walks of life. Ironically, he knows more about his stalkers than they know about him. Yves hates it when he is being investigated, he does not like to feel naked.

Benign fans would simply receive a firm rejection and a stern warning to never talk to him again. Yves would get straight to the point, always starting off with a strong 'no', then he would elaborate that they're wasting his and their own time trying to grab a chance. He won't attack their personhood, only their decision to pursue him. If his devotees break down into tears, lamenting that they should have known better because Yves is out of their league, he won't confirm or deny it. He would simply walk away without a word.

That is if you aren't there to witness their confession or flirts. If they had the gall to try and act suave for Yves in front of you, his reactions would be modified to fit your personality.

He could spew out the most vile, unhinged insults while maintaining his poise. and posture. He felt disrespected when they came up to him with the intent to woo him while you're clearly latched onto his arm. And he does not take disrespect well.

He doesn't need to raise his voice to get his point across. A composed and callous stare is enough to drive them away completely humiliated. This attitude is used if you're the type to be insecure in the relationship.

Or, he could just take the pacifist approach and pretend that they're invisible. He would say a brief 'no' before going back to whatever conversation you had with him, he isn't going to sacrifice any more of his precious bonding time on a lowlife. Yves does feel anger bubbling up in his chest because his date with you is interrupted, but he knows you prefer to keep the peace. And your happiness comes first. Eventually, the offender will either leave or get more aggressive.

If it's the latter, he will drop a nasty jibe or two before evacuating from the area with you. It could get dangerous and you wouldn't like it if a physical fight breaks out. He will have no choice but to present his handgun if they start following and harassing further, that should usually do the trick to scare them off. If that still isn't effective, he has no qualms about pulling the trigger in front of witnesses.

You wouldn't realize why Yves suddenly pulled you into his chest, using his free hand to cover the other ear until a loud blast resonated through the air. You scream as you see them bleed out, with viscera spread everywhere. Yves missed their vital organs on purpose, if he killed them, dealing with the police would be more of a headache than it already is. He's more concerned about your hearing at the moment though. A gunshot can rupture your eardrum, so he urged you to come with him to the nearest clinic. Ignoring horrified shrieks from onlookers and siren blares.

Or, he could let you handle it. You might be a person who flies off the handle whenever someone tries to steal your partner away, maybe you feel good protecting your boyfriend or husband from the world. He knows what you want. Of course, he will be prepared to back you up, he will take over when he thinks it's getting too perilous. But in the meantime, he will let you exhaust your adrenaline surge and enjoy your instantaneous possessiveness; he would be lying if he said your tendency to defend your 'property' didn't make his heart swell. He found your flustering adorable and swoons at your displays of territoriality. You would be rewarded handsomely after the encounter.

To those who are a lot more threatening, such as stalkers who are clearly not all there in the head, Yves is killing them with no hesitation. He sees the ugly parts of himself in them and it's almost symbolic when he pumps their skull full of lead. This could even be considered to be a hobby of his because it is just so cathartic to him.

Yves's preferred mode of murdering isn't actually using guns, it's a lot messier that way. He rather makes it look like an accident. They had no chance of survival against him, it doesn't even take a notebook of information to carry out a successful, consequence-free culling of his infatuated adversaries.

He doesn't derive pleasure from knowing he has a hoard of admirers. This does nothing to his ego, but it sure vexes him. Because it will definitely get in the way between you and him at times. He doesn't feel flattered, he feels insulted that they dared to think they're good enough for him. Three-fourths of them had dry hair and crusty eyes, the others couldn't even do a sit-up, and they felt entitled to his attention? They should have invested that time and resources in Alprazolam instead. He worked so hard on himself and those mutts expected him to just give... himself to them? Looking and smelling like that?

Who did they think they were? Did they think they could be You? Only in their wildest dreams.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere male #tw yandere #yandere concept #yandere x you #yandere oc x reader #male yandere oc x reader #tw blood #tw violence #oc yves

[heavenfell-au]

✦ Memory Lane contest results ✦

First off, I want to thank the people that partook in the contest ! I can hardly imagine having to pick only one scene from my own story, so kudos to each one of you for managing to do it !

Now, without further ado, here's the first submission that was submitted on Discord, realized by Arplenoon !

« TW: Blood, injury, disturbing imagery

I got into Undertale and read Heavenfell back around 2020 and early 2021. There were a lot of things that happened to me in that time that deeply hurt me, separate from the anxiety of the pandemic, but probably had been brought on by it's pressures. Needless to say, I was having it rough. Abandoned, stalked and harassed by my former friends, I let my mind escape into Undertale AUs. Undertale AUs let me forget about myself. Going to work was hard. I'd sit in the breakroom, curled up, trying not to let my thoughts consume me- and often failing. It was during that time, huddled in one of the bigger chairs at work, I read Heavenfell every day for a week.

It was cathartic for me, and helped me process a lot of what I was going through. Even though I wasn't anywhere close to the same situation Frisk found themself in, the scenes where they spiraled in thoughts about their life on the surface resonated with me- Because that was me, tormented by the same demons. Someone knew what I was going through, and I wasn't alone.

I can confidently say that because of that I'm still here today.

Thank you. »

I can already tell you that this hits hard. You've selected a scene from Their Wings that hits very close to home, and I absolutely adore the way you've depicted Frisk's torments, which each bone digging into them carved with words that the ghosts of their past said, cutting them through and through. I love the fact that those bones, along with the vivid red of their clothes, blood and their soul tearing apart pop out against the darkness that surrounds them, all that that giant skeletal hands are craddling them in their palms, giving the sensation that they're at the mercy of death itself as they scream in absolute despair, or in that case, Sans if not both of the skeleton brothers. I really appreciate that we can also see the remnants of Flowey, illustrated here, reminding us the impact of his loss in the story, that he was Frisk's guardian but also their best friend, leaving them stranded in their time of need. There are so many little details here and there that tell about that specific part of Frisk's story, making such an impactful delivery of the message, alongside with the silhouettes that haunt them in their turmoil, ever so faded and yet, very present.

For the technique, it's an amazing artpiece made with watercolors. It's such a difficult media for me to handle, and it's always so mesmerizing to see you realize one of them, and this time, having to handle with so many shades of black. I wish I had an ounce of patience and technique that you have when handling that medium, making me all the more admirative of your craft. The execution is great, for the colors are vibrant against the deep shades of black, and I'm always admirative of people that are able to use that paint type without their paper curling, which requires some type of preparation and knowledge ! The result of this gorgeous illustration, with that particular attention to the red and white colors clashing with the deep black makes it absolutely chilling and nerve-wracking, even more so with how well you illustrated Frisk's agony. You could almost hear their screams. Gorgeous, I'm devouring this work of art. It is delicious.

Next submission is from Cao-the-Dreamer on Tumblr !

« « More like “Adorable Dog” for me ! » you said.

My entry for #HeavenfellContest2024 by @heavenfell-au ! I choose the scene in chapter 15 (Sweet Brothers), where Frisk meets A.D. :3 Whenever I think of Their Wings, it is the first scene that comes to my mind. Is it because I love animals? Because it was a moment of fluff and peace amidst Frisk's painful journey? I think it's both. And yes, the dog is adorable <3

I've been working with shadow puppets for a while now, and I decided to try my hand with Eowyn's characters. I really liked the result! (I've been inspired by Michel Ocelot's works) :3

Here is le théâtre d'ombre in broad daylight: »

You know what ? Seeing your submission made me smile so much ! A.D is such a good pupper and I'm so glad it got to get the spotlight ! (badumtss)

It is such a lovely take on their proper encounter, and the way you portrayed it is so simple, yet so effective and I absolutely love it, for it provides that vision of their bonding experience, as A.D remembered what Frisk did to save its life, and was willing to give them a chance in return. And the way they're staring deep into each other's gaze is so precious and tender, you know what the energy it gives me ? How to train your Dragon vibes, with Hiccup and Toothless having that very unique and special bond. That's what it makes me think of, and the fact that you picked that very tiny scene, for the reasons you mentioned, I'm fucking tearing up at this. I just adore your portrayal of their friendship, and how you selected a simple moment of peace and love in that dark and painful story of Their Wings.

You know what else amazed me ? The medium you used for your submission ! I love how you took the risk to use another type of media, to experience with shadow puppets. Looking back at Michel Ocelot's work, I can definitely see the inspiration, and it's such a nice way to make a tribute to another amazing artist ! I have never experimented with shadow puppets myself, to be honest, I've never thought of it being an option, and that submission was a very pleasant surprise ! I'm very happy you got to choose that medium, despite your drawing talents, I absolutely love people trying out things and taking the risk in a contest itself even  ! As I stated above, it is even moreso unique, and the execution is fantastic. The simplicity makes it all the more enjoyable, for such a simple scene, putting all the energy into the characters and the formation of their friendship, all put together thanks to the light source that gives into that intimate atmosphere. Plus, I can tell that while it is a simple looking result, it must have taken a lot of time having to carve and assemble all the pieces together, without counting the measuring, the placements and the light play. Un grand bravo for this artwork, it definitely lingered on my mind for the rest of the day when I've laid my eyes on it.

Last submission by victenSam !

« The illustration in Chapter 5 – Sweet Trap was one the first scenes that stuck with me, I enjoy the happy vibes. I brought it to life with minor dramatic liberties taken to spice up this short cutscene while still maintaining the overall feel. A paragraph done old-school video-game style, all recorded within a game engine. A happy moment that preludes the turning point of the story.

Reading through Heavenfell felt really inspiring to me. They really put it all in not just the writing, but in all the illustrations, character designs and singing. Not to mention how they’re rocking it in 3D modelling outside Heavenfell as well! This sincere multimedia externalization brought into the fan-work amazed me and helped me give myself a bit of a push to keep pursuing and learning things to hone my own craft. Unfortunately, due to the nature of both game development and making, it became quite a solitary effort on my part. And so, as both a way to honor their work and apply what I’ve been learning, I decided to make a game related entry within the schedule and theme of this contest. I honestly didn’t think I could pull something like this off; I’m glad I tried and I’m happy with the results.

There’s modelling, texturing, sound design, music, coding and directing all creatively put together only by myself just for this piece of animation. I leaned a lot of new things and tested whole new methods and theories in the making of the cutscene. I could go into a lot of details on how every element came together, but I’ll leave that open for any questions that come my way to avoid huge tangents. I hope you all enjoy this little piece of memory. »

Wow.

Just... Wow.

For sure, that one got me gobsmacked. And if the previous submission hadn't gotten me smiling like an idiot, I found myself in absolute awe and I hardly repressed the giggle at the end ! I was breathtaken by the pressing atmosphere until the very moment that those two friends finally let go of the fear and laughed it out, finding myself to do the same, letting go of a breath that I hadn't realized I had stuck in my throat. The fact that you've taken so much time to not just illustrate, but make an entire animation had me floored !! It definitely reminded me of that one illustration that I made myself about that specific scene where Flowey and Frisk were laughing in relief, laying in the snow. That was such a nice little reference, and that made me smile even more! That was a very interesting scene that you picked, all the more heartbreaking knowing what comes afterwards, and that makes me cherish that moment all the more. There was so much nostalgy that I felt there, even felt myself mourning all over again, that was a very strange experience, but I welcome it. Thank you so much for showing Flowey the love he deserved <3

Oh god, there's so much to tell. It is truly a work of art. There's so many mediums put into play there, as you said, there was modeling, there was texturing, sound design and music, and even coding. I also can imagine the storyboard to create the scenes, and all of those details that we happen to forget at times, just so you can render a cutscene of my written story. Truly, I was not only floored by the story telling through your eyes, but by the amount of work you put into this ! It was an amazing surprise to see that kind of work appear for this contest, you're a very talented content creator and this animation is proof of it, knowing that it was made in a game mechanic mind. I lack the words to say how good the technique is for it exceeds anything that I ever imagined. Watching it over and over again, I keep hoping that someday, you get to make an entire game, or even to be hired because there's an incredible potential in you ! It's inspiring seeing how much of your blood and sweat were put into this in record time, I could never hope to do anything like that myself, making me all the more admirative. My best kudos to you, Sam, and thank you for honouring my work this way. <3

That's all for the submissions for Memory Lane. I'm extremely glad that you three had participated, though it feels unfair now to judge your creations when there were only so many participants, which made it harder for me to make decisions, as curious as it is. I've been wondering whether I just let go of the Prize system to give you all the same one, but it kind of goes against a contest, doesn't it ? So I'll still announce the results. Know that each one of your creations made me feel a certain type of way, and I cherished every single one of them. For different reasons, you all deserved the first place, but rules being the rules, I had to be realistic, which is why the importance of technique was there.

So comes to third place, Arplenoon, with his heart-wrenching painting !

To the second place comes Cao the Dreamer, with a very moving shadow puppet !

And the first place goes to victenSAM with his breathtaking cutscene !!

Since I wanted to thank you personally for giving my contest a chance, you all will have an extra in your prizes, as a way to find a middle ground with my prior tug of war <3 Thank you so much for the amount of love you gave to this project. I'll come in contact with you so we can discuss the prize shipping and all the like !

I'll also be reblogging the artpieces posted on tumblr for everyone to enjoy !

#HeavenfellContest2024 #Memory Lane #heavenfell #heavenfell au #gift #arplenoon #cao-the-dreamer #victenSAM #contest results #their wings

[roguelov]

Praying to Tumblr gods to free you from unfair imprisonment ಥ⁠╭⁠╮⁠ಥ

This will be very out of character (considering volumes 9+10 of "The Sandman" comics, like the dude will do anything BUT asking for help), but this though can't leave my mind. Reader who comforts Dream and he cries just a little, because DAMN this being needs to let repressed emotions somehow and I'd sell my soul to be near. (He's so bbg sad wet cat little squishy and I'm just feral...)

I will cradle him like a baby until he lets if all out

You dragged Dream to bed while he practically refused the whole way. He repeated the same phrases over and over: I’m fine, I don’t need anything, I must get back to work, etc.

You simply ignored his protests, or whines for that matter. You laid down on the soft sheets and pulled him down with you. He continued to huff, however he allowed it. Perhaps he secretly wanted this, not that he dare admit it. He rested his head on your chest. His body was still stiff. Yet, as your fingers raked through his hair, the tension soon melted from his body.

“You know you don’t have to carry so much.”

Dream flinched at your words.

You bent your head, whispering into his ear. “You need to relax, my sweet king.”

Dream’s arms slowly wrapped around your waist. He buried his face into your chest. His throat constricted. A few simple words, a simple phrase, and he was ready to fall apart in seconds.

“You do so much, you do more than enough. So, please, don’t run yourself ragged. Don’t work yourself into the ground.”

Don’t work just to distract yourself.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured.

“It’s okay,” you hummed, curling your fingers through his hair.

He shook his head. He wanted to say ‘it’s not’, to scream of how tired he was, to forget his time in that damn glass sphere and all those greedy beady eyes. All the words were lodged in his throat. Tears prickled in his eyes. Each drop soaked your shirt, but you didn’t mind. You continued to play with his hair and whisper soothing words.

“I’m here,” you repeated over and over. “Let it out, it’s okay, I’m right here.”

Dream tightened his grip on you as tears flowed more freely. He hadn’t let himself cry, he hadn’t let himself grieve his lost time.

“I’ll always be here,” you kissed the top of his head.

“Thank you,” he finally choked out.

“You’re welcome.” You squeezed him, hoping he could feel all the love you could offer.

He did.

He always did.

“Just lay here with me, okay?” You whispered, almost pleading.

He nodded. He didn’t dare want to be anywhere else right now.

You smiled softly. You played with his hair, talking about anything while Dream laid comfortably on your chest. He would occasionally tear up, but you always wiped away any and all tears. You kissed his stained cheeks and whispered your love.

It was all so cathartic, and well needed.

#baby boy needs a good cry #the sandman #morpheus #dream of the endless #morpheus x reader #dream of the endless x reader #anon #ask

[otterandterrierwrites]

45

21

12

14 Days of Scoundress 2024 ♥ February 11th

His reason why

Han had started coming to these things a few years after the war—the veteran support groups. Not for himself, at first. He didn’t need support from strangers, wasn’t going to spill his most personal experiences to a nosy bunch. No; he’d started coming to see how he could help.

It had been Leia’s idea. He’d heard that someone in his old Pathfinding group had passed away unexpectedly, and—it had fucked him up for a while. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen plenty of fucked up things in his time, known of other people who’d died the same way. Maybe it was the fact that he’d made it out alive, and with so much to boot. Who knew how the mind worked. In any case, he thought he could try to help. Listen to people, at least; tell them it could get better. He hadn’t expected the groups to be so… cathartic. The first few times, he’d come back declaring to Leia that he wasn’t going back there, it was just too much, who the hell was he to play at shrink with those people, emotions made him uncomfortable anyway.

He’d always gone back again and, eventually, he’d stopped complaining. Sometimes, he even took advantage of the space to talk about some of what he’d been through—things he hadn’t wanted to burden Leia with. It surprised him how good it felt to drop some of that weight, which he hadn’t even realized he was carrying. Han was never going to do therapy, even though he saw how good it did to Leia. He just didn’t think he needed it. But the support groups—those helped him even more than he thought he’d helped them.

And yet, some days were hard. Sitting there, listening to vets talk about the people they’d lost, the feeling of hopelessness that crept in when grief took hold, when they couldn’t see themselves moving on and building a new life for themselves… it reminded Han of the darkness he’d glimpsed in Leia during the war, how it had scared him, moved him to act. Sometimes, by annoying her into feeling. Other times, by dragging her kicking and screaming out of martyrdom. He couldn’t take all the credit—but he wanted to believe it’d helped some. (And, incidentally, doing that had saved him, in more ways than one.)

Today was one of those days. Han had sat for an hour with a former frigate nurse whose wife had passed away recently from sustained injuries she could never fully heal from. In the end, she’d decided to give up. The surviving partner was struggling not only with her grief and broken heart, but also anger at being left behind, which added a serious dose of guilt to the mixer. No word of comfort had felt good enough, and Han had headed home in a dark mood. What could he possibly have to say to someone like that, when he got to come home to his wife?

His wife.

The sense of dread that had lodged in Han’s chest all evening ramped up as he made his way back to his and Leia’s apartment, inexplicably—he knew everything was okay, but he was still eager to make sure—and then he opened the front door and walked in, the familiar scents of home enveloping him. Leia came out of the kitchen carrying two plates of food, which she set down on the dining table as she greeted him.

‘Hey sweetheart,’ she said, a warm smile lighting up her fierce brown eyes. ‘I’m so glad you’re back; you won’t believe the gaffe Senator Arbo made in session about the Candovant refugees—honestly shows money can buy anyone a seat at the table, but not an ounce of empathy or—’

In a few strides, Han had closed the distance between them and snatched her up in his arms, the inertia of the movement making him dip her backwards as he interrupted her with a kiss. There, in the safety of her warmth, the turmoil in his heart finally quieted.

‘Just shut me up by kissing me from now on, won’t you?’ Leia asked breathlessly, smirking at him. Her expression softened as she looked into his eyes. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Yeah,’ Han assured her, bringing her hand up to press his lips over her knuckles. ‘Can’t wait to hear all about Senator Fargo.’

‘Arbo,’ Leia corrected with a chuckle, passing him a plate as they sat down for dinner.

It wasn’t wrong for Han to have survived, to have this while others had lost so much. That was something they always said in the groups—but he knew that already. Had spent years trying to make Leia believe it. Maybe it was the Force, or maybe it was sheer, dumb luck that it’d happened. But it was also… holy. His to cherish and protect. And it was the fuel that kept him going when he tried to make the galaxy the tiniest bit better.

******* Prompts:

45: without a motive

21: “Just shut me up by kissing me from now on, won’t you?”

12: [tango dip] a kiss shared while one partner is dipped backward

#asks #walkawaytallblogs #14daysofscoundress #hanleia #han x leia #han solo #leia organa #2024 #ficlet #period: post rotj #rated T #i'm just posting these later and later huh? #literally just finished writing it so... i hope i won't regret immediately posting it #i got rambly again. and sappy.

[multifandomthoughts]

What Overwatch women do to help you calm down

Zarya

Zarya believes that doing something can help you calm down. Even if it’s just a little walk or some sort of physical exercise, she knows that it can clear your head.

Even if you’re not normally someone who goes to the gym, she’s always willing to help you and show you the exercises most beneficial to relaxation.

If exercising isn’t your thing, she recommends a good movie. Contrary to popular belief, if you plop Zarya in front of a movie, she will become engrossed in it. She knows your comfort movies and what may stress you further.

So the two of you plop down in front of the TV in the rec room and watch a movie with blankets and junk food. More often that not, other members may come and join in, bringing a more lively but safe presence.

Pharah

Pharah also believes that exercise can help you calm down. In her case however, it’s with sports. She promises not to be too rough and will be fair. You soon realize that throwing or kicking a ball with her while venting is a very cathartic feeling.

She always prioritizes your privacy so unless something is worrying, she’ll keep it to herself. In exchange, she does the same, and once or twice it’s led to a juicy gossip session.

There are two other things that she suggests might help, one much less dangerous than the other. She suggests that you strap onto her back and go for a flight on her rocket jets.

You gently decline and go onto the more reasonable second option. Music. Pharah is into hard rock and metal so when you’re angry and need to calm down, you scream your favorite music and she gives you some suggestions for next time.

D.VA

D.VA obviously wants to play video games with you to help you calm down. However, she knows that it’s easy to get tilted in games. She suggests maybe playing Animal Crossing, Stardew Valley or Minecraft together.

She’s also one of those people who has lo-fi music gently playing in their room so if you just need somewhere to chill and get away from your thoughts she’s the one to go to.

Unlike Pharah, going flying in her mech is much safer than just being exposed to the elements, so if you just want to see the stars or the sun as it’s setting she can do that.

If none of that works, she knows that anime and movies can help you turn off your brain for a bit. Be prepared for all you can eat snacks though!

Junker Queen

Junker queen is a bit difficult, as she constantly has energy and can often times be angry. However, this does not mean that she isn’t capable of helping you calm down or have a laugh.

She wants to show you her pride and joy, the gladiatorial matches. However, she acknowledges that it may not be appropriate for you to see injuries and possible death. So instead she takes you to a demolition derby. Her boisterous attitude picks you up and makes you feel safe and calm.

Afterwards she treats you to some local grub, some hole in the wall place she knows. Expect small talk and a whole lot of jokes to try to make you laugh.

Eventually she pulls the “hole in water bottle cap” trick and covers you in water, but you could care less, you’re laughing so hard finding a way to attempt to get back at her.

#overwatch imagines #overwatch x reader #zarya x reader #junker queen #Zarya #junker queen x reader #dva #Dva x reader #Pharah x reader #Pharah

[pippin-pippout]

So I dragged myself kicking and screaming and, yes, mostly in denial, through the last episodes of A Journey to Love.

My thoughts can be summarized as follows:

Obviously this is mainly due to me being horrifically traumatized by Yuan Lu’s death. After all, they told us from the get go he wouldn’t live to 20. They made it clear he had a deadly heart disease. And then. They had the nerve. They had the audacity. They had the actual fucking bahoonga BALLS to follow through!?

But then I found myself sobbing at literally every good guy death scene, plus all of the mourning scenes. The latter was in large part thanks to Alen Fang's acting - deepest apologies to him for just referring to his character as 'the slutty one' for the majority of the show. Not that I was wrong. Also thanks to strong performances from He Lan Dou for Yuan Lu's death.

Anyway so I need to add this gif x4 for the Liudao Hall babies:

Qian Zhao, da ge, who made mistakes but always did right in the end

Sun Lang, who just wanted to hold something fluffy at the end, dying a hero

Yuan Lu, who died in his princess's arms after running to deliver a letter rendered useless by the Emperor of An's greed.

Yu Shisan, who lived as he lived and had such a happy moment with Chu Yue right before it all became irrevocable.

When they added Yu Shisan to the snowball fight, I just about lost it. Liu Yuning's acting there - having the realization about Shisan's death as he watched them play in real time was so well done. Really hurt.

Plus I'll make a couple of versions with edits.

For the Wu Emperor. I knew it was gonna happen from the spoilers but damn, him genuinely learning the value of friendship and brotherly love made me root for him. Dude did not deserve to go out like that. Thank goodness for the magic of CDramas where he lived just long enough to pass on his will to Ning Yuanzhou, and do one last act of good.

It also ensured Duke of Chu was able to pass on his command to his daughter, Chu Yue, before dying of the same (was not clear if her bro died or not, or if dad was always going to choose her).

And for Deng Hui. Started out thinking he was just a sexist bastard. Turns out he was one of the most principled characters in the show.

Their deaths didn't make me cry, but I respect them.

Also loved Chen Du Ling's (Empress of Wu) small part in this. I may not like all of her characters but she can deliver a scene and hold a room. It was a bit cathartic to see her put every man in their place, and basically decide the fate of two countries, even though her lament that she'd only ever have power through another held true.

Ah Ying, my baby girl. This is a character that could have turned people off from the beginning. Thanks to strong writing and stronger acting, it did not. I was super impressed with He Lan Dou. She can dial it up and dial it down in a single take, and can play big dramatic scenes with a subtlety that some older actors cannot grasp. This was the first thing I've seen her in, though for her and Chen You Wei (Yuan Lu) I might watch Tiger and Crane if someone tells me it's good.

I still think Li Tongguang is a perverted and creepy child, who never managed to learn (except in literally the last ep), but at least I trust that he will treat Ah Ying well. I don't hold it against him for screwing up the battle - he was trying to be benevolent but made a bad choice.

The main couple win it for me this year. What an inspired pairing. They beat out heavy hitters including Bai Lu x Everyone which was near impossible. Something to do with letting Liu Shi Shi use Liu Yuning's height against him at every possible moment. Also the 'if you die, I'll finish the job and then follow you' is my favorite dynamic. I swear when Ruyi threw those bombs, NOT NEEDING TO HAVING ALREADY SUCCEEDED AT KILLING THE KING AND PRINCE, just to join him, y'all I died. Good for whoever posthumously gave her the Marquis title on her own (not just furen) - couldn't tell if it was Li Tongguang acting as regent or Dayang (great shot of those two at the end).

The final episode was one of the best final cdrama episodes I've seen. I might have to make another post about that. In sum, despite losing a large portion of the well-loved cast, the remainder gave a world-class finale. The visuals were incredible (explosions are my favorite). The final scene was beautiful (though I'm a bit surprised they gave it to Chu Yue instead of Ah Ying who knew all 6 of them closely).

#a journey to love #一念关山 #yi nian guan shan #liu yuning #liu shi shi #he lan dou #alen fang #fang yilun #chen youwei #ning yuanzhou #ren ruyi #yang ying #yu shisan #yuan lu #li tongguang #qian zhao #sun lang #chu yue

[phantomgrimalkin]

Sirius had his hair tied into a messy bun, music blasting, hands streaked with grease. It was wonderful. He’d forgotten how cathartic working on his bike was. It had become something of an obsession during the first war, though he had relatively little time with the work he was doing for the Order. Now, it was something to throw himself into when the house felt too quiet and empty and the weight of yet another war got under his skin.

When they had graduated Hogwarts, the war had been raging for nearly a decade. This time around, it had barely begun. It was also far more difficult for Voldemort to gain traction. The magical world was aware of the horrors that the Death Eaters were capable of, so far fewer would willingly join. They also had hope. They knew that Voldemort had been defeated once. They knew that Harry had held his own against Voldemort twice since his return. 

By all accounts, it was incredibly difficult for the Death Eaters to recruit. Some pureblood families were willing to secretly pass money under the table to support the cause, it was believed the Parkinsons and Zabinis were doing so, but refused to publicly support him. It was predominantly young wizards who were too young to remember the first war and too enticed by the promise of power. 

If only he could show all of them a pensieve memory of Barty Crouch Jr huddling in his cell, screaming for his mother. That was the future that awaited most of them, assuming they survived that far.

There was also a large exodus of muggle borns, particularly those old enough to remember the first war. The Ministry was working with the International Confederation of Wizards to help families find refuge across the magical world. 

Order meetings were predominantly being held at the Burrow. Considering that the Weasleys made up a sizable percentage of the Order, it only made sense to give into Molly’s requests. Dumbledore  wasn’t sending Remus on missions that were nearly as dangerous as they had been in the first war, which they hoped was a sign that things weren’t as bad. Sirius’s magic was still impacted by the 12 years in Azkaban, to his deep irritation. He was still more of a liability when it came to missions where there was likely to be fighting, but he did as much as he could. 

And when he had done that, he went out to the garage.

Read more on AO3

#remus lupin #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #wolfstar #sirius black #marauders #regulus black #remus x sirius #sirius x remus #tonks #ron weasley #hermione granger #albus dumbledore #dumbledore bashing #horcrux #deathly hallows #wolfstar raising harry

[queendomkey]

screamed "FUCK YOU AIMEE" TO THE NIGHT SKY, as the blood was gushin'

Welcome to another edition of: Cass really likes a song despite it apparently not being a fandom favorite. thanK you aIMee is such a cathartic song for me. Though Swift claims to have "changed your name and any real defining clues," about the subject of her ire, it's titualarly evident. However, I don't actually think that matters too much.

Sure, the song was definitely written as processing betrayals that happened in 2016 (unlike a lot of people, I don't actually think it's So Bad that Swift is still working through those emotions. Progress - especially with something like a betrayal and literal revenge porn - will never be linear.) But as an audience, we're not required to be thinking about that likely source of inspiration.... Because it doesn't matter. What does matter (to listeners) is the way we interface with the song, what we feel when we listen to the song.

Swift also paints the narrator of thanK you aIMee as the better person, for the aforementioned changing names and clues, which is just funny as hell. Like, in my mind, I love to think that song actually is about a high school bully (or some other situation in her life, perhaps the rerecording saga) and she just decided to throw some heat "aIMee's" way.

thanK you aIMee, to me, is going in the halls of "songs to scream when no one else will listen." I've certainly been stomped on (literally and figuratively) by people who were either threatened by me, or were racist. I have, in fact, screamed "fuck you" to the sky while sobbing — a girl once cut a chunk out of my hair because I had made the Color Guard team and she hadn't. My mother is also a saintly woman who has wished some girls dead.

Sometimes, a song just cuts to the core, and having been constantly belittled, I get this song. I'll die on the hill that thanK you aIMee is a good song.

A lot like Mean, from Speak Now, Swift uses the framework of a high school bully to process the subterfuge and underhandedness that she faces in the industry. And, a lot like Mean, thanK you aIMee paints Swift's narrator as already victorious. She's survived Aimee "throwing punches" and realizes that her skin has become thicker for it.

It's so cleansing in a way. Swift paints her narrator as having "built a legacy that" Aimee "can't undo." even though all she finds all the narrator's songs "uncool," (maybe she listens to indie records much cooler than the narrator's.) The narrator looks down at her hometown, and says that she couldn't have achieved it, if not for the pain and pushing through it.

A personal favorite, for me, is the final verse: Maybe you've reframed it, and in your mind you never beat my spirit black blue. The people who hurt us always think of themselves as good people, and thus "never change much." - but the narrator knows better.

Cause all that time you were throwing punches, it was all for nothing.

#ttpdminutes #the cassandra speaks #thank you aimee #yet another song i LOVE b/c it hits so close to home #i think i could write a whole essay about how personal attachment to certain lines can radically alter how much we like a song

[koishua]

❍. °· “ 𝐢 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮. ”

→ choi beomgyu x gn!reader. 0.568k words. i wrote this in a pretty ugly headspace, so boom. angst. as always, beware as there are allusions to death. i cried twice while writing this short piece and had to take a break both times, so it's one of my heavier works for me personally and idek why haha anyways try to enjoy, because my heart certainly did. it was a cathartic experience. also as always i would appreciate a quick feedback <3

→ you and beomgyu talk about the future by the ocean.

The waves crash onto the shore in a beautiful cacophony, scenic and peaceful as you stand hand in hand with Choi Beomgyu. The clouds drift languidly, soft white wisps decorating the bluer than blue sky and the gulls dance above your heads, cawing over the sea. It’s a day not just of any kind— calm, as though not a single thing is wrong within the world you reside in. As though not a single worry plagues your mind, the only feelings you welcome are those of his fingers clasped around your palm and the soft breeze sweeping up your clothes, brushing against your exposed skin.

“We should get a house around here.” 

Beomgyu is a charming man, soft spoken when he needs to, bold when the situation plays in his favour, kind and easy to get along with. At times stubborn, though he has never been afraid to show his vulnerabilities with you. You’ve seen his thousand faces, yet none has ever made your heart tremble in the way it does in this exact moment. So fragile, yet hopeful to a fault.

Your eyes find his and you squeeze his hand, exchanging weak smiles. With a full heart you accept the gentle kiss he presses on the crown of your head, closing your eyes as you bask in his safe and comforting presence. His touch is enough to make your heart ache— throbbing and heavy, as though it’s been crushed under the weight of everything dreary in existence.

“We should.” You reply, quiet and mournfully. 

The man in your presence hums a simple tune, swinging your arms back and forth lazily as you approach the very edge of the rocky path. You are now surrounded by the water almost on all sides. “You think we might find one within the next month or two?”

You don’t have any other choice than to entertain his musings, nodding with a faint chuckle, “Maybe. If we do, then that’d be amazing.”

A shiver racks your entire body, leaving you to sink onto your knees as you hold back from crying out a choked sob. It’s impossible to stop the onslaught of tears that fight their way down your cheeks, staining the light grey asphalt into a darker shade. There is an unobstructable force squeezing the heart you’ve been left to take care of alone.

“Why are you so sad, my love?” He asks, a concerned look etched on his face.

Oh, how it hurts to watch as the man you love with your everything fade away into nothing— gradually, bit by bit. The haze in your mind clouds your thoughts as you scream above the waves that seem to be rising, intent on drowning you under them. It’s his name that tears beyond your lips, anguished and agonisingly. No one is around to hear your hysterical cries, desperate and downright deafening.

His voice rings distantly in your ears once again. “Don’t cry, my beautiful. I love you.”

Afraid to open your eyes to see your vision of him gone again, you try to tame your hiccups, hands clutching your arms in a self soothing hug. It’s a dangerously peaceful day and it hurts to open your eyes. It’s not a beautiful world, not a single ounce of desire left in you to go on living in it.

It’s not beautiful, no, not when he’s not here to hold your hands anymore.

[ © 𝐊𝐎𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐔𝐀 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟐, 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 ] [ 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 / 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆! ]

taglist batch one: @junityy @99outros @heejojo @mark-lees-world @strwberrydinosaur @yourlocalhotgf @jdyunvrs @jitaros @luvholicz @spookybias @envirae @renjunvrse @iuwon @rae-blogging @thekinkpopstandsforkrackheads @astaia @glorybeom @tyongishs @wccycc @twntycm @sooblvr @icywhatim @yutaalove @yjwfav @yyxy27 @eternallyhyucks @w3bqrl @moontines @rielleluvs @not-camila @todorokiskitten @enha-hwajinna @jungwoniics @jayk2511 @ifwtyun @ily-cuz-i @misah0e @squiishymeow @enhacolor @clarakyunisageek @ahnneyong

#i cried ugly tears im not even kidding it's just that kind of a night tonight y'all :') #txt imagines #txt angst #txt beomgyu imagines #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu scenarios #txt x you #txt x reader #beomgyu angst #txt reactions

[rockitmans]

fic writer 20 questions - ask game

I was tagged by @bitbybitwrites, @special-bc-ur-part-of-it and @shame-is-a-wasted-emotion . Thank you my darlings 💖

tagging... probably a bunch of people that have already answered. @cerriddwenluna @heartsmadeofbooks @kurtsascot @backslashdelta

1. how many works do you have on ao3?

8

2. whats your ao3 word count?

134,215

3. what fandoms do you write for?

Only Glee/Klaine at the moment but I teeter enternally on the edge of writing for Red, White and Royal Blue

4. top 5 fics by kudos

Spinning Out (306) Blaine Anderson vs. Valentine's Day (221) Smart With Math, Stupid With Love (215) No Take Backs (166) Witch Wanted (161)

5. do you respond to comments? why or why not?

Yes, although if I get distracted for even a second it will inevitably not happen. If things are out of sight they are out of mind 😅

I do like to reply because comments absolutely make my day so I wanna acknowledge that. Even if I'm just like "fanks 🤓", inside I'm screaming.

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

Witch Wanted has an ambiguous ending which can be read as angsty depending on how the reader interprets it. Personally I take the happy ending but either way the purpose of it is more about choosing to love each other through any challenge, however it ends up.

7. whats the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

All the rest haha. I think Blaine Anderson vs Valentine's Day is the most straightforwardly light hearted fic. Smart With Math has the best progression. And No Take Backs is the most cathartic and hopeful.

8. do you get hate on fics?

No. I've had people disagree with some stuff like writing Kurt Hummel as a Slut in Spinning Out (he deserved a slut phase ok). Personally I always think the point of fiction is exploring other avenues for the characters but I don't mind if people disagree with that.

9. do you write smut? if so, what kind?

Yes and as to what kind... The kind where sex happens?? Not sure haha. I guess I tend to write bottom Blaine with slightly subby undertones but y'know I've also written possessive top!Blaine and wall sex and soft sex with a lot of ~feelings~ so I'll try anything really as long as it doesn't squick me.

I also tend towards writing sex in a way that I think fits the fanfic mold rather than how I feel it strictly exists in reality. I don't think there's anything wrong with that though. The mold is good.

10. do you write crossovers? whats the craziest one youve ever written?

Nah. I'm writing a Red, White, Royal Blue AU currently but it's not a crossover in the sense that characters from the book will appear. I don't currently have any plans to write one but maybe.

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

Don't think so

12. have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope

13. have you ever cowritten a fic before?

No. I'm open to it but terrible at writing to a schedule so it would have to be a patient soul to put up with me. I've written to prompts and for art though which is a different kind of collaboration that I really enjoy.

14. fave all time ship?

Klaine but I had a pretty hefty Merthur era in my youth and they still have a special place in my heart.

15. wip you want to finish but doubt you will?

I kind of intend to finish all of them even if that's entirely unrealistic. Nothing is formally abandoned that I've written more than a few thousand words for because... sunk cost fallacy.

It's possible the fic I was writing for Back to School may fall by the way side. It was competing choir directors with a lot of dumb rivalry and banter which I do really enjoy but I'm struggling to structure the story.

16. what are your writing strengths?

Dialogue, humour and smut. At least comfort in writing those things - it's hard to judge the quality of your own work objectively.

17. what are your writing weaknesses?

Exposition, capturing any emotion other than pure stupidity, and getting the guy from one place to another.

18. thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in a fic?

Wouldn't do it personally, I would probably indicate a character was speaking another language within the prose rather than writing it out. But to be fair the only other language I speak is BSL which does not translate well to text 😝

I don't mind reading it as long as there's translation somewhere because your boy is lazy and doesn't wanna look stuff up

19. first fandom you wrote for?

If we're talking unpublished, it was a Jack/Ianto Torchwood fic. I think Jack was the first canonical queer man I encountered in media but I could be forgetting someone.

20. fave fic youve written?

Spinning Out is my baby and I the urge to write a sequel grows daily. I love the boys' dynamic in that fic.

But from a pure reread perspective it's probably Blaine Anderson Vs Valentine's Day. It's just light hearted silly fun and still makes me smile.

#ask games #sully posts