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pshaven · 7 months

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Jake jerking off as he listens in on you touching yourself in the other room. Him getting driven over the edge as he hears you moan his name 😭🙏

soooooooo i went a bit offtrack... hope u don't mind !! happy birthday jakester

cw! fem!reader, jake is a perv (again), masturbating (m & f), some jay x reader, reader is a literal menace, i think i added more plot than i intended..

jake didn’t mean to hear you the first time. it was purely an accident, having gotten home early once in a blue moon. your door was slightly peaked open, knowing that jake would usually still be out at this time. with a hand dipped between your thighs, hips bucking when your fingers don’t reach as deep as you want them to, jake was quick to scurry into his bedroom as quietly as possible. he didn’t even realize he popped a boner, but you’re his roommate! he really did try everything in his power to will down the hardon in his pants; grandma’s undies, heeseung’s feet—

much to his dismay, your wanton moans invaded his head like a parasite and he was only getting harder by the second. the first time was an accident. the second time was a… coincidence. he was already scrolling through his spank bank at one in the morning, half hard cock in his hand until he hears a faint noise on the other side of the wall where his head was resting. he recognizes it’s your voice when you make another sound, one that he realizes you’re whimpering quietly.

his dick seemed to spring to life after registering your whines and moans, and he found himself throwing his phone to the side, spank bank long forgotten as he focuses on the image in his head of you touching yourself. he’s not much of an edger, or so he thought, his hand coming to a quick stop when he felt his balls tighten and cock twitch in his hand. you’re still going, and a sick part of himself wants to cum when you cum, so he catches his breath until he hears you get a bit louder, a bit whinier with your bed sheets rustling that signals him you’re getting close.

his fist speeds up, head thrown back and his head meets the wall but he can’t register the loud thump he makes when he feels his orgasm coming up, his chest bubbling as he lifts the bottom edge of his shirt up to his mouth to bite down on it, muffling his groans. he cursed under his breath, your name leaving his lips and into his shirt as his bare stomach was now littered with spurts of cum.

the third time it happened, he plans it. you have a pattern, he realized after a late night pondering (post jack off). then after the third time, it became his guilty pleasure. the showers afterwards were when he would feel the guilt part, with him unable to look you in the eye the next morning.

you’re attractive— it’s something jake won’t deny, but you weren’t his type.. but somewhere along the way his type changed. he’s been eyeing you differently, more nervous and his palms get more sweaty around you. he thinks he’s subtle, but you’re not stupid.

if the walls are thin enough for him to hear you, then you can hear him too. he’s not exactly the quiet groans and growls kind of guy… you find that he’s more gasps and moans between the wall that separates the two of you. you also don’t miss the way he rubs his palms against his bottoms whenever you engage in small talk with him.

but you’ve always found jake attractive. he’s been your type since you’ve moved in, meeting him for the first time. the two of you aren’t really bestie-level close, but it’s not awkward when you two eat with each other. it’s quiet and intimate and sometimes you’ll delude yourself into thinking it’s a sweet domestic moment. so imagine your happiness when you hear a muffled moan of your name coming from jake’s room.

you’re sharply aware whenever jake is listening in on you, jacking off whenever you touch yourself. you should be creeped out by it but it gives you some sort of sick satisfaction that you have this power over him. so.. when you come up with the idea to play with him for a bit, you feel a bit evil.

jay’s cute, right? cute enough to fuck for a night. and jay’s name is close enough to jake’s name, right? close enough to play with jake’s mind for a night.

it wasn’t hard to convince jay to fool around with you, you know you’re attractive and you know your way to flirt with a guy. you invite him over to your shared apartment with jake, blatantly ignoring your roommate who’s sitting in the living room, mindlessly channel surfing.

he’s used to a hi at least from you whenever you enter, but he sees a second reflection behind you from the screen. he (not so) distinctly turns his head around, just barely missing the back of jay’s head before the two of you enter your room and you shut the door.

since when have you ever hung out with jay? jake’s confused, but his thoughts are quickly interrupted when he hears you giggle, a moan following after than he can tell was muffled, probably by jay’s hand. jake is quick to put the pieces together, quickly rushing to his room in embarrassment as he grabs his airpods in an attempt to plug his ears for the night.

he’s not used to you bringing people home, not that you can’t but he assumes it’s a mutual respect that you’ve never brought anyone home and neither has he. he has no right to be mad at you… and he’s not! but the swirling pit in his stomach is growing larger by the moment with every giggle and faint moan he can hear.

but the pit in his stomach isn’t the only one that’s growing, his cock beginning to harden in his pants like it’s muscle memory whenever he hears you moan. he palms his face, trying to will himself, saving the little dignity he has left. which is close to zero as he pulls himself out of his sweats, precum already leaking at the tip as he sighs.

“ah, jay!” jake hears you moan, his head leaning against the wall as he slowly begins to stroke himself. he can almost hear the sloppy noises from your room if he really closed his eyes and listen, he’s assuming jay’s eating you out. what he would do to be the one to eat you out instead.

“oh f-fuck, don’t stop, jay,” you gasp at the intrusion of jay’s fingers into your entrance, eyes closing shut. you know jake’s in his room, hearing his door shut shortly after you and jay entered your room. you make sure to be a bit louder than you normally would be, guessing that jake’s on the other side of the wall listening in on you.

jake’s already feeling close, your whines like music to his ears. he’s imagining you’re saying j instead of jay’s actual name, like a new little nickname you’ve given him. he’s stroking himself faster as you continue to chant jay’s name, knowing that you’re getting close.

but then you stop moaning suddenly, and his hand comes to a halt as he stifles a groan. his chest is heaving up and down, his tip an angry flush of red as he waits for you to actually come to an orgasm. he hears a whine and a gasp from you, and he can only imagine what your cute face will look like when his cock splits you open, slowly entering himself inside of you.

but he’s not the one that’s fucking you right now— as it seems like jay has a different approach when you suddenly squeal, a loud gasp leaving your lips and jake can only vision that jay has fully bottomed out in you at once. “jay!!” he hears you call out, imagining it’s you calling his faux nickname.

shutting his eyes tightly, jake speeds up his hand stroking his cock faster as he hears the sloppy slapping of skin against skin on the other side of the wall. it’s so vile, he feels disgusting but you sound so hot and jake can’t help it. he’s groaning into his hand again, praying you’re cumming soon because he doesn’t think he can edge himself any further.

“o-oh my fffuck! i’m coming.. cumming jay!!” you scream, and jake follows suit as well, wishing his cum could mix with yours instead of just laying on his abdomen. he does his best to stifle his moans, biting into the back of his hand as he catches his breath. he can still hear jay’s skin slapping against yours, your overstimulated moans only springing his cock back to life.

the next morning, you wake up earlier than you usually do to catch jake in the kitchen. “good morning,” you hum innocently, opening the fridge only to get nothing before closing it up. jake, as you expected, can’t look you in your eyes, the shame of jerking off to you with another man is too much to bear. “sleep well?” you continue to press him, slowly creeping your way behind him where his back is turned to you.

“uh- good… i guess. could be better,” he mumbles sheepishly as he turns around, your close presence making him jump a bit. “what, um, what about you?” he stumbles on his words, your body so close to his that it makes him nervous but he does nothing to move away.

“i slept real good,” you smile, eyes teasing him when you look up and down his body and you don’t miss the way his Adam’s apple portrays his nervous swallow. “but i’m sure you heard allll about it… j”.

#enhypen smut #enhypen #enhypen x reader #jake x reader #jake smut #jaeyun x reader #jaeyun smut #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen fanfic #jay smut #jay x reader #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines

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rxzennia · 1 month

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with love, happy birthday

– tales of the voracity pathstrider

✎𓂃 happy (late) birthday, kakavasha. somewhat established relationship, pet names, aventurine’s real name, sleepy/ affectionate aventurine who’s probably very ooc. a quick one (i lied, this is like 2k worth of yapping and its 12am) because i was busy playing the update and haven’t been writing at all; i hope i did his lore justice ;-;

kakavasha stirs as the sun shines in his face. weird, doesn’t he usually have an alarm set? or, at the very least, don’t you usually wake him up?

he feels around the bed for you, but his hand lands on smooth scales instead of you. when he reaches further, he grabs a handful of sheets, and he realizes you’ve gotten up before him and left a few of your serpents with him. he sits up with a yawn, his hand subconsciously seeking out the creature curled up into a ball next to him.

“mm, where’s your…” kakavasha takes a moment to find a word to describe you, and he very quickly gives up. it’s too early for this. “where’s your main body?”

main body…? i mean, he was almost going to say “host”, like… possessed host? parasite host?

the serpent makes a little noise as it opens and closes its maw

drooling, as usual, as it hangs around his hand

does it even understand him?

it does. just needed a moment to comprehend

it slithers up his torso and settles around his neck after doing a few loops

he used to be horrified because your serpents are, like, huge, and what if they decide to strangle him???

but he knows by now that they’re friendly and won’t hurt him

it tries to guide him to you by tugging on either the right or the left sides as he gets out of bed

he finds himself outside of your office… is this where you’ve been?

he lifts his hand to knock, but then he hears you; you seem to be on the phone?

“thank you. then i will leave it to you,” you say, in your typical detached business voice. you glance towards the door when kakavasha enters without knocking, your eyes softening almost immediately at his disheveled appearance of having just gotten out of bed.

you wave him over; he doesn’t hesitate to settle in your lap and snuggle up against you. the serpent around his neck moves over around yours as well and finds itself a nice position there, essentially tying you two together. kakavasha watches as you spin the pen in your hand idly as you listen to whoever you’re talking to, and he admires you as you work – you’re so different when you’re serious! which makes how sweetly you treat him all the more special to him.

“of course, rest assured,” you answer, to whatever question the other party asked, “yes, a quick rundown report will do. is that all?”

it seems that is, indeed, all, as you end the call and practically slam the phone back onto its stand.

you wrap your arms around him and rubs your nose against his exposed collarbone

this man never uses the buttons on his pajamas properly

“honey?” you ask, using the pet name you have for him as both a tease an an endearment

“do i not have plans today?” he slurs a little, he’s still not quite up yet. “my alarm didn’t ring, and you didn’t wake me up…”

“no,” you answer quickly, lifting your head to peck him on his jaw, “you’re free today.”

you probably either took on a bunch of his work for yourself, or you’ve delegated to his team

he’s so happy when he hears that from you

he got a day off without having to use his vacation days?

kakavasha can’t quite believe it. you, voluntarily clearing his schedule for him? “really?”

“really, mr aventurine.” you sigh, giving him a playfully harsh pinch on the nose. “kakavasha, i hear it’s your birthday today.”

the pout on his face when he hears you call him aventurine fades immediately upon hearing the next part of your sentence. he’s suddenly wide awake, because in no world had he expected anyone to celebrate his birthday for him again.

“what would you like to do?” you ask, signalling for your serpent to set him free from its coils.

he has no idea

he doesn’t celebrate his birthday anymore, unless someone gives him a cake

and even then, it’s as simple as he can make it

the day is associated with far, far too many bad memories

so much for being blessed, he thinks, but now that he’s let you into his life…

maybe this day doesn’t have to be filled with only painful memories now

and it’s not like he’s particularly worried about losing you in terms of death

and you seem pretty content staying with him right now

he’s still thinking. he’s still thinking about the things he wants to do.

there’s so much, but none significant enough to be done with you on such a special day

he wants to do something unique with you

something more than just go on a date(?), share a cake and cuddle

you stare at him, and you sigh, “your morning routine, at least.” you nudge him off your lap as you carefully swipe your thumbs along his lashes. “you have eye boogers.”

kakavasha sputters and flushes. oh, you’ve just ruined his ethereal sleeping beauty image by pointing out he has eye boogers. he almost teleports into the bathroom after you’ve said that, and you run your hands along your serpent like you didn’t just almost give him a heart attack.

you have no plan either, if we’re being honest

all you can think of is to shift everything off his schedule so he can take a break

you did think about taking him on a day trip

but like… where? it’s not like you have a hometown to show him

but just going anywhere doesn’t quite feel right, either

you’ve also thought of giving him an audience with your primal form as a gift, but…

isn’t that nightmare fuel?

and also, you’ve never outright told him about your path, or much about yourself (though you’re pretty sure he’s made some guesses)…

so that’s a no

“what should we do?” you mumble, as your leviathan curls around your neck and stares at you with its maw

it does a biting motion with its maw and tilts its head

“brunch?” you raise a brow at its suggestion

how the hell did you get to brunch from that one little move

also, who would’ve thought that you knew how to cook?

then again, if anyone’s been around as long as you have, they’d know a few handy skills

“woah… you can cook?” kakavasha walks out, looking fresh, as he sees you sliding plate after plate onto the countertop. “i thought you didn’t need to eat?”

“not a need, but i like flavors.” you reply, pointing him towards a chair with your spatula. “sit. i’m almost done.”

while you’re at it, you slide him a mug of mildly sweetened coffee mixed with milk tea

non-authentic xianzhou beverage because you only have access to whatever expensive coffee and teas your boss has stocked at home

you’re not cooking up anything fancy, really, just quick things

like… breakfast items level quick and simple

except you’ve never once cooked in front of him, so he thinks this is all really new

plus it’s you, you’re cooking for him, putting your heart into it, how could he not feel all tingly inside?

!!! do you even know !!! how much you make him swoon !!! with these subconscious things you do !!!

(you generally don’t, though you have the tiniest, tiniest idea in the far back of your mind)

when you finish up and sit down across him, his instinct is to try to feed you

you flinch backwards because what you saw was a fork coming straight at your face

and then you see it’s him trying to feed you, but now you’ve spooked him

he’s got the saddest pout you’ve ever seen on him

did you not like being fed?? :(

before he could pull his hand away, however, you gently take his wrist and let him feed you

you have no idea how much he loves how careful every touch of yours is

this is kakavasha’s first time having food made by someone dear to him since he became aventurine, and he could almost cry at the mere emotional implications of such a gesture, especially when it's from you.

“if you don’t mind…” kakavasha pokes at his plate with his fork as he slowly starts, “i… don’t want to go anywhere. just stay here with me?”

“of course,” comes your reply, “anything you want.”

he’s the birthday boy, come on, there’s no way you’re going to deny him his wishes?

you don’t think you’ve ever seen someone eat while crying and still somehow manage to scarf down so much

but you’re having your eyes opened right now

“it’s not going anywhere,” you say, knowing full well your words will fall on deaf ears, “slow down…”

well, whatever makes him happy, you suppose

you made all this mostly for him anyway

you pick up a few pieces of this and that and feed it to the leviathan waiting on your shoulder

and then you pick up a pancake for yourself

and when you turn back to the table, he’s cleared out every dish

granted, you made like five in total, so it’s really not a big feast…

but still, you didn’t think it was possible

you ask, “should i cook more often?”

he hops off his chair and decides to squeeze next to you in yours

you naturally slip an arm around his waist and pull him into your lap

“will you?” he raises his question in a trembling whisper, like he’s just been offered the world

“i don’t mind.” you say, as you stack the dishes together and prepare to clean up

he buries his face in your neck. “the housekeeper can do it… i want to cuddle.”

you find yourselves on the rooftop. obviously, kakavasha is latching onto you this whole time, so you’re the one who lugged both him and you up the stairs. time passes by quickly, even if you spend it in comfortable silence; before you know it, the moon hangs high in the sky and the glittering stars are out.

“you really like it here.” you state, an observation based on how many times you’ve found him up here late at night.

“that i do,” he replies quietly, wanting nothing more than just to melt into you. “give me your hand?”

you raise a brow as you offer him your hand

he runs his fingers over yours, holding your hand with both of his, tracing every knuckle and every finger

“do you pray?” he asks, suddenly, breaking the trance you’ve fallen into as he touched your hand

you’re not a particularly religious person, but…

“i’m not opposed to the idea,” you say

then it’s enough, he thinks, then he’ll entrust you with a ritual of his people

he’ll give you a very, very important piece of him

after all, he knows he’s in good hands now – you’ll take care of him, won’t you?

he moves your hand around, then, until your palms are flat against each other

you can tell right away what he’s trying to do, and your heart swells with a torrent of emotions

“may the mother goddess thrice close her eyes for you...” kakavasha begins, his voice shaky just as his person. he interrupts himself with a breathless whisper – “repeat after me.”

he takes a deep breath, calming his mind as he comes to terms with how much he will be baring before you. it’s alright, isn’t it? you’ll treasure all that he is. “– keeping your blood eternally pulsing. may your journey be forever peaceful, and your schemes forever concealed.”

you repeat his words a little clumsily, and you press your hand a little tighter against his. it doesn’t take a genius to see that this is such a fragile moment, one where kakavasha’s past, present, and future intersects. where his pain and his solace meet, and where all that he holds dear are at the very forefront of his mind as he finds his way forward. he trembles in your embrace, tiny sobs ripping from his throat as he struggles to keep your palms together.

you briefly wonder if this would be blasphemous, you holding him tightly with your free hand. “shh,” you coo, “shh. take a break, even if just for today…”

it’s too cruel to demand him to keep fighting even on his birthday. you try to shield him from all that is around you with your scarf and your figure, just as you want to shield him from all that could hurt him in the world. the night winds are chilly, but between you and him, you are warm.

“happy birthday, kakavasha.”

#honkai star rail #aventurine #aventurine x reader #honkai star rail x reader #ares's voracity pathstrider tales

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depresssant · 3 days

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title : 'santa maria' aquamarine

yan!gojo x painter!reader

synopsis : he had never spared you a single glance before, but now here he was talking about getting you an aquamarine necklace to match his eyes

"oh, [name]? yeah, that loser always holes herself up in her room."

your older sister's voice could be heard from a mile away with how obnoxious she sounded.

well, she wasn't wrong.

sighing, you tossed your paintbrush into its cup and took a step back to look at your half-finished work. you spent an entirety of a week on it, not bothering to step out of your room unless it was to change the water in your cup, get food, or clean your paintbrushes. the painting was of a faceless woman in black walking in the opposite direction of all the colorful people as rain stormed from the clouds. she was the only one that didn't have an umbrella.

it reminded you a little of you...

who were you kidding?

the woman in the painting was you.

in the world of jujutsu, you were just a non-sorcerer that could only see curses. your family was a famous and potent clan who's pride was their cursed technique, so to have been born without one was a bad omen in itself. you were to be discarded, ignored, and shunned from what was considered a 'normal society.'

even your own family participated in such a trend, and you had soon found yourself turning into a hermit of sorts. what good did it do to even show your face to the world if the world didn't want to see you? it was a lost cause⏤one that you refused to believe in any longer. living like this until you turned eighteen was really the only option left for you.

you nodded in satisfaction⏤it was a rare occasion for you to be satisfied with one of your pieces⏤and moved to begin cleaning, but all of a sudden, your door swung open as if it was kicked down.

the sight that greeted you made any wisp of happiness you had crumbled away.

"[NAME]!"

when were the two of you on first name basis?

gojo satoru, in all his glowing glory, stormed into your room like a hurricane with a grin that reflected heaven's light itself and a bag of sweets from a bakery you knew all too well. he shut the door with his foot⏤why did he close the door⏤and avoided all the stuff you had laying across the floor before placing the bag on a clear part of your desk and tossing himself onto your bed.

"i've missed you so much, you know!" he whined and grabbed the dinosaur plushie situated in the crack between the wall and the edge of your bed. "you kept it!"

Only because he forced you to.

you sighed in disappointment and grabbed all your cups and paintbrushes to place them in a plastic container headed for the bathroom. "what are you doing here?"

"geez, is that any way to talk to your fiancé?"

"burn in hell."

"whateveeeeerrr! i got you your favorite. the chocolate chip cookie croissant!" the white-haired man rolled his eyes like this was simply playful banter and not literal words from the depths of your heart. he grabbed the bag and after rummaging through, pulled up some packaged good.

how did he know that was your favorite pastry?

"thank you," you murmured back in reply. "if that's all, please leave. i'm sure sister wants to see you."

you grabbed a paintbrush with a smaller tip to begin adding the little details to the painting, but gojo didn't get the hint. he sat on your chair and looked up at you to watch you paint. there was a smirk on his face that told you he knew something you didn't, and it got under your skin like a parasite.

"stop looking at me like that."

"like what?"

"i said stop looking at me like that!"

"ugh, fine! you're no fun! how are we supposed to spend the rest of our lives together if you act so cold? you know... i know tomorrow is your birthday."

... shit.

your hold tightened on your paintbrush, but you sighed and shrugged. "okay? and?"

"I just wanted to ask because i know emerald is your favorite. we should've went shopping for it before the wedding, but i figured that since you didn't like going out, i'd just get them myself. what type of ring do you want? emerald? diamond? ruby? oh! i should get you one of those, uh, santa maria aquamarine gems! it matches my eyes, aaaannnndddd we can make it into a necklace for you!"

emerald? diamond? a wedding ring...

not a ring. a curse trapping you with him forever.

you remembered not too long ago when he had asked you if you wanted to wear a western styled gown or a traditional kimono picked out by his mother, and you thought he was joking. he had hated you for so long⏤going as far as to making your life physically hell, but then he strangely flipped a switch? you were supposed to believe that the man who scarred you as a means to rebel against your future marriage with him suddenly jumped in excitement at the sight of you? a man who didn't bother to glance your way for seven and a half straight years before finally talking to you willingly just magically knew all your likes and dislikes, the future dates on your calendar, and every contact on your phone?

damn it.

why did your parents pick you to get engaged with him instead of your sister?

"[name]? are you ignoring me again?"

huh?

"no! no, i'm not!" you lightly shook your head, but the damage had been done.

gojo rose and took off his glasses as a menacing look in his eyes was pinned on you. he grabbed a hold of your waist, hugging you from behind so tightly you felt like your ribs would shatter. his cheek rested on your shoulder, and the words that he whispered in your ear felt like your doom being set in stone.

he tightened his hold on you as a hand came to wrap around your throat.

"i don't think you know you're mine."

and he squeezed.

"forever."

#jjk #yandere jjk #fem reader #x reader #gojo x reader #yandere gojo #yandere gojo satoru #male yandere #yandere #arranged marriage

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hwaightme · 5 months

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Burning

(masterlist) (taglist)

🔥 pairing: best friend!mingi x gn!reader 🔥 genre: fluff, healing, friends to lovers, slice of life 🔥 summary: down winding roads, through the golden fields and into the shimmering night, you and mingi embark on a journey to live and love once again 🔥 wordcount: 5.5k 🔥 warnings/tags: editing??, language, indie film style, loosely inspired by murakami's 'barn burning' + youth mv, injuries/scabs, band aids/treatment, escapism, restarts, running away, love through hardship, healing, implied trauma, food/eating, reflecting on the past, mingi would do anything for you, arson 🔥 taglist: at the bottom of the fic 🔥 a/n: happy birthday to @byuntrash101!! my most wonderful cat, i love you, thank you for every moment and here is to many more <3 hugs to everyone, all reblogs, notes and comments appreciated! 🔥 playlist: the last stop of our pain - hanroro, the setting sun - the poles, bye - car the garden, summer night - jeon jinhee, 14:30 - damons year, silence - sunwoojunga, so life goes on - heo hoy kyung, dear my all - mingginyu

You looked down at your hands, spreading the fingers out and relaxing them again, watching the movement of every line and wrinkle. Band aids bent and took on the shape you commanded; the one in an off-white shade after having taken on the brunt of the physical burdens, - a ring that was wrapped around the middle finger of your right hand was frayed at the edge, having had to through the test of the elements and of haphazard lugging of items in and out of the white car on which you were sitting. The other, skin toned, sturdy and strictly not letting anything dare infect you, hugged the side of the same hand and spread a little to your palm. The markings of a person who ‘could’, and a person who ‘did’.

Gaze travelling downwards led you to a leather bracelet with a silver charm - a simple accessory, but one that held years of history, meaning and memories that tied you to the original owner. You were never one for big celebrations, having gotten used to treating every day the same as the rest - a uniform, dark reality where you were nothing but a little cog. The only mission you had ever had before this moment was to keep on turning. This bracelet was a promise, and a hope for a new beginning.

Golden fields and a warm grey sky blending into a hazy blend of yellowish green and burnt sienna. A tired breeze that had long lost its fight reminded you that you could still feel, running through your hair, dancing across your skin. The sweater you had borrowed was much too loose at the shoulders, and thus offered little to no protection from the elements. Nonetheless, the comfort it offered, along with the aroma that had permanently intertwined with the threads of the cotton fabric brought more than enough warmth to your heart, and caused a blush to rise on your cheeks. It was a considerable contrast to your still slightly tear-stained, exhausted eyes around which the signs of last night’s terrors were still remaining. But even then, the despair that had come with the sensation had been washed away by a caring thumb, a loving hand, a single impression that solidified that you were never going to be alone.

You moved to run a finger across the plasters, curious as to how the cuts beneath were healing. Little scars of a warrior. You had fought for your way and for your life and for your right to smile and breathe and enjoy the earthly wonders. The last days before your final decision to escape were somewhat of a whirlwind, tainted by persistent insomnia, demons that haunted you day and night and the yelling of far too many people, projects and parasitic ponderings. Even the things that had been under your control grew minds of their own and searched for ways to destroy you, be it in hiding a mistake in a word, an error in a table or a fiendish administrative problem. Those days were a countdown, until in one last effort to survive, you cried out for salvation and admitted that it was all too much. And in that chaotic flood that was threatening to swallow you whole, one person had been waiting, and before you knew it, you were safe, had someone cheering for you, sharing your anguish.

“Hey don’t do that. We don’t have any band aids left and I’m not about to go Rambo mode and go picking grass to wrap you up,” you turned to follow the sounds of the low, raspy voice, smiling softly as you met your friend’s mildly concerned expression. Black hair, softly tousled; you barely could restrain yourself from reaching out and ruffling those locks. Beauty marks like stars on that wonderful, charming face. Slightly parted lips that appeared to be holding back sagas and everlasting tales. Lips that you could watch move forever.

“It’s fine, Mingi, I was just checking.”

“That was some intense checking you’re doing, refrain from it,” he retorted and crossed his arms while pinching the sleeves of his black knit sweater so as to not let them slide up.

“Says the person who keeps picking at their face like no tomorrow. Without bandages, mind you. At this rate-”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’ll sort myself out, alright?” Mingi winced as his tongue darted to the scabbed over gash on the side of his mouth, making you exhale sharply, bemused. You could sense him taking his words back with a shake of the head. One step back, another, and in a quiet mumble he added: “...at the next rest stop we’ll fuel up the truck, fuel ourselves and maybe get a proper first aid kit.”

“Sounds good.”

Turning one of the many rings on his fingers, your friend could not hold your gaze and resorted to studying the ornate silver patterns and precious embedded stones. It had been the same when he had first offered this way out for you. A man, supposedly tall and impressive in physique, but appearing so small as he stumbled over his words, one idea pouring and drowning another out until they connected like a puzzle and formulated a vision that was somewhat concrete. Though, even if there was no final agreement in his mind, you would have agreed anyway. All that mattered was that each sentence carried a ‘we’. And with that, you were more than happy.

Was it long ago that you had met him? It felt like eternity. You could not imagine any other life, at least not one where you had a chance at happiness. Sure, you had your fights and squabbles. It would be a big lie if you were to say everything was sunshine and rainbows. Both snappy and hot headed at times, you had each said a fair share of things you did not want to say. But it was the awareness and growing from mistakes that had led you to where you were now. You had both walked through some dark times, and ended up in the golden hour, surrounded by an equally glowing expanse of flora, reaping what you two had sowed.

“What are you looking at me like that for?”

“Hm?”

“I don’t get it, I know I have the thing on my cheek but… hate to break it to you, you don’t have healing powers,” ever so logical, Mingi was, once again, trying to establish a chain of thought. You had gotten better at explaining your thinking out loud, as did he, but in times where you were particularly wistful, words escaped you.

“I don’t know…”

“As if I do. Are you hungry?”

“I’m not a cat-”

“Then why?” he chuckled, lips automatically stretching into a toothy grin as you chuckled.

“‘Cause I can.”

“Okay then,” a breath escaped you as you stared at his hand, suddenly falling to meet the car’s surface and looked up to see him leaning over, staring intently at you. Through you. Like he could read you. Any courage you had disappeared, and you shook your head in defeat.

“Fine, fine,” how could someone put into words the feeling of wanting to picture an individual in everything and everyone?

How could you say that even in the grass that surrounded you, in the long winding roads, in the cloudy skies you were glad to be able to see Mingi. It had been a lifetime indeed. A lifetime of seeing him without realising it, a lifetime of looking forward to being together with him and falling apart when you weren’t, and now, when you were side by side with only the sun, moon and empty fields to bear witness, you were scared to blink. Like all this time would disappear. Priceless seconds. Mingi was merciful enough to note a tinge of nervousness, and backed away. It was obvious enough that he did not quite let your reaction go, but neither you nor him were ever ones to push further than necessary and beyond the other’s personal limits.

“Right, time to get going if we want to make it to the barn by midnight.”

“Okay.”

“Want to ride in the back or-”

“With you,” you did not mean to sound so ambiguous, but thankfully as Mingi was busy opening the door to the driver’s seat, he did not catch on, or courteously did not pry.

“Ah, you’re right. It’ll be getting cold pretty quickly, won’t it?”

As if you were not wrapped up and huddled in the bunch of blankets, backpacks and crocheted pillows just last night when you were parked at the last rest stop, silently accepting your friend’s reassurance as you mourned a past you were not going to miss. He knew what you were going through, and so he stuck beside you instead of heading for those plasters when he technically could have.

“A few hours won’t change these little cuts, but they can change you, and I’d rather be here so you’re not alone.”

The phrase resonated in your heart as you took your place beside Mingi, staring out at the windshield. With a quick glance to your left you could just catch his reflection in the glass, and with another tilt, the man himself. His plush lips, the beautiful curve of his nose, how the black-framed glasses that he had fished out of the cupholder between you suited him so well. Focused, he turned the key until a satisfying rumble consumed the vehicle, signifying its awakening. On instinct, Mingi’s arms flew to their respective positions, and he drove out of the improvised parking spot back out to the infinite line of cement - the one sign of civilization that had the ability to assure you that you were indeed going in the right direction. Since Mingi was familiar with this part of the country, however, you would not have minded even a sudden, more wild change in the scenery.

Choosing to not surf the radio stations in search of something remotely tolerable, you drove to the sound of your musings and let the last of the grey haze wash over you before the sun that was concealed by the thick cloud would inevitably fall into a slumber. For the first time in a while, you could enjoy the quiet without it being interrupted by a cacophony of inner qualms and disturbing rage. You could catch the occasional note from Mingi’s humming - a habit of his that you had grown to love. Every time, it was something unexpected. Be it a tune he was making up on the spot or one that you were familiar with, you never tired of how his thoughts travelled, and were delighted by the soundtrack which he was subconsciously crafting for the life you just so happened to share. Serendipity, writing a future that Mingi was taking you towards.

The idea he had proposed might have been radical, but it was the only one that made sense. Besides, it was not going to cause any harm. At the end of the day, the property belonged to a distant relative, said relative had no use for it, so… the conclusion and final decision basically made itself. The act to mark an entry into being your new self had to be grand, a lot more grand than what you had already done, and Mingi, being a creative mind, of course could be trusted to invent a performance of the century. Just for you.

A dreamlike day turned into an equally surreal evening as you halted at the gas station attached to the last rest stop of your adventure, with Mingi’s call dragging you out of your thoughts. You confirmed to him that you were fine with a quick smile and followed him out of the trusty Dodge. Patiently, you idled about as Mingi unscrewed the opening to the fuel tank and reached for one of the nozzles, rolling a stray piece of gravel under your shoes. Crickets, a myriad of crickets hidden under the cover of nighttime launched into a crescendo of their trill song, so much so that the buzz of the fluorescent lamp that illuminated the lonely station was almost completely drowned out. A light touch on your upper arm alerted you that Mingi was done, and you promptly followed him to the convenience store.

As though by newly found habit, he gravitated towards the bright red canisters lined up by the register, while you gave him a wary glance before ambling towards the ready to eat meals. Soon enough, Mingi joined you, satisfied by his quick perusal, and with a basket in his hand. Without a word, he picked up your favourite snack and was about to toss it in:

“This one, right?”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

It never failed to be amusing how, despite the innumerable occasions when you two had eaten together, Mingi still liked to check with you that your favourite foods were, in fact, still your favourite foods. You had to admit that it was very endearing and comforting to you. Without even considering it, he always gave you room for change, in every way you could imagine. Or maybe you were exaggerating and letting your fantasies speak for themselves. You could not help but dart your eyes at Mingi when he turned his back to you, spotting the two beaded necklaces you had made for him some time ago still being a part of his usual outfit. And so, you wondered, how large was the room for transformation? What could this brand new future of yours include?

“Ah… wait… band aids… should we get that… What was it? Antiseptic-”

“You said a whole kit.”

“Right. Let’s go try and find it… wait what if they don’t stock one?” eyebrows weighed down with doubt, Mingi looked at you like he was about to apologise. You sighed, moving to run a hand down his back. The gesture startled Mingi, but he did not stop you, instead choosing to wait it out and see your intentions. You noticed him lightly biting his lower lip as he stared back at you, perplexed.

“We’ll find the essentials then. It’s not like we are disappearing from society for the rest of time, yeah?”

“Yeah…” had he continued, you swore he would have expressed his wish for what you had joked about to be the case. Luckily, you were pleasantly surprised by the wide selection of items to pick from, and left confident in the remainder of your trip.

In the fluorescence of the small store, and then inside of the parked car as you devoured your pre-made dinner, you were suspended in pure bliss. To your right was your partner in everything, friend or however your silly racing heart wanted to call him. Above you, the stars - a vista worth driving further out from the rest stop for. Propped up on the cushions, this was your definition of heavenly and healing. Colours had regained their vibrancy, and finally, you were no longer too fatigued to notice the intricacy of things that had previously passed you by. Who could have guessed that the packaging of the sandwiches you used to buy before work to throw in the office fridge had changed? And apparently a bit of time ago, too? What else have you been missing? For certain, you had been missing out on times like this, where you could hold a comfortable pause with Mingi, simply enjoying each other’s company while digging into your meals. It was astonishing to think how many breakfasts, lunches and dinners that you could have had with the one person who always believed in you were ripped away from you by obligation and unwanted routine. Not for longer.

“Mingi.”

“Hm?” he hummed while chewing, eyes widened as he turned towards you. Quickly enough, he swallowed the bite, and waited for you to continue.

“I’m glad… that we can be here like this.”

“Oh… I…” at a loss for words, he let himself swim in your spontaneous confession.

“I am just… happy. Very happy. Thank you. Thank you for being the one who I can trust, thank you for sticking with me through complete and utter chaos, thank you for being you,” the words came naturally, buried under layers of hurt that needed time to evaporate. But now, the ritualistic expedition was wondrous in combating your inner demons, and in turn, let you speak for yourself, for your own feelings rather than those of illusory authority that had previously spoken for and was in charge of your every action, whether you were aware of it or not.

“No biggie. Things get in the way sometimes, but we’re here now, aren’t we?”

“Yes, that we are.”

“It’s going to get even easier soon, just you wait.”

A hand in midair, waiting for you to lift yours and meet it. Confused, you did so automatically, yelping when Mingi moved it closer to himself, and in a swift motion planted a soft, almost shy kiss on the back. He was careful to not put any pressure on the cuts which he had just re-cleaned and covered, along with the miniature wounds that only found themselves under the stinging alcohol solution, but kept on holding onto you, debating whether you would let him stay like this to his heart’s content, or if you would pull away. The tips of his digits reached the bracelet, and you could imagine a thrum of kindred energy reconnecting the item and the man. Shock prevented you from acting rashly, and so you simply read the fire in Mingi’s sparkling eyes, your favourite blaze that helped you out of a chasm, one that you would protect with your entire being until the world collapsed on you. And even then, you would stand up and try again.

Relief was evident in his features, from the curling of his lips to the relaxing of his shoulders. Clearly, an unfathomable pressure was lifted from his exhausted body. Every mile travelled, you were making revelations, it seemed. Venturing into the unknown, you were not quite sure who you were looking at anymore. Of course, you were confident in his name, in his presence, in his significance, but the many roles which he played in your years on this tiny planet left you struggling for words. Who was Mingi to you? Who were you to Mingi? Long gone were the days where you two had been moderately content with a distant and rapidly cooling friendship separated by glass and busy schedules. You were close. So close, that if the recklessness of acting on instinct caught up with you, you would get burned.

Burning, like your hand despite Mingi having let it float in solitude some time ago to stand up and hop out of the back of the pickup truck. Set ablaze like your heart and soul that were feverishly awaiting a shining dawn. Your tired eyes could only watch your one wish turn the key in the ignition again, determined to help you start over. Could he be your sun? If you were to say anything more than a hollow whisper to the moon, would you fall away and lose him? You were about to bring the fingers of your left hand to run over the other, but you stopped, remembering Mingi’s comedically stern words. Instead, you imagined him pressing his lips against it again, heat rising to your cheeks upon recollection. A quick glance to the driver’s seat, and you could swear you caught the ghost of a smirk dancing across your so-called friend’s face, but chose not to comment so as to not spark a conversation you knew you would not be able to continue.

“We’ll be there soon. There’s a neat shortcut we can take so it shouldn’t take us more than an hour.”

You nodded, trusting his judgement. Your thoughts were elsewhere, anyways and could not offer many suggestions in terms of the journey. These parts were foreign to you, and your decision-making here was as good as whenever you had a professional point to prove or a dream to follow; both flew out of your hands to be smited. At least in the case of the meandering roads, you had Mingi to shield you, letting you wander in your own mindscape for as long as you needed. The mind was a mysterious place, traversing memories both from years ago and ones that documented your most recent escapades much the same, though, maybe now they were all in brighter hues. The last of what was tying you down was packed and stashed right behind you and Mingi, both in the tiny space between the seats and the back of the cabin as well as in the exposed trunk outside. The monochrome madness stuffed into rucksacks, swaddled in sheets like a crying infant manifesting your prayers for the noise of a prior existence to cease demanding your attention. You were ready to let it all turn to ash, and be reborn.

It was fascinating how quick Mingi was to jump into action. Part of you wondered whether it was due to the times you had helped him, and he wished to somehow repay you. Or was this a genuine devotion? As the road turned into an unruly dirt path, you were certain it was the latter.

‘It’s our journey. I might not know everything that’s going on behind your forehead, and you would not know that about me, but the least we can do is stick through the worst storms.’

The grumbling of the engine turned into a roar as Mingi’s heavy combat boot pushed down even stronger on the accelerator. When people spent enough time together, they were bound to become more and more similar; such was the case with you and him. Parts had been exchanged, parts blended, and it was hard to think of a picture where there was a lack of the other’s presence in some form. Be it in behaviour or in little bits of jewellery. Mingi was driving selfishly, because he was driving for you and for the few breaths of air you had remaining in your lungs after holding up boulders of others’ opportunities at the cost of your own passions. There was experience, there was development, but there was also a need for self-preservation and a necessity to stop for the sake of health and mental clarity, and Mingi was not about to lose you.

“D’ya want to roll the window down? You…” used to do that when you and him were teens. He did not have to say it. No matter the weather, even if for a few seconds, you wanted to be one with the air, a flightless bird that finally got a chance to glide with the wind, pleasantly lost in the elements. Maybe one day you could return to that same carefree nature. You shook your head.

“It’s a little cold outside.”

“How about this…” while slowing down a little to not lose control of the car, Mingi reached around and behind his seat, fishing for something. Finally, having found what he was looking for, he flashed a triumphant grin and produced his dark grey denim jacket, letting it land on your lap.

You raised an eyebrow, unsure of what your friend was implying. But as soon as the first hint of a breeze hit you and you saw the window start its slow descent under Mingi’s command, a chuckle escaped you. So it was not a question after all, but an encouragement, perhaps even a challenge. Giving in, you pulled the jacket over yourself like a blanket, and stared at the all-knowing constellations that decorated the cosmic expanse - the best reminder of just how small you really were, and to what priceless insignificance your troubles amounted to. In the grand scheme of things, nothing really mattered, and so, you did not see anything as ‘too out of pocket’ anymore. Might as well enjoy life instead of letting it race past you for once.

It was a mystery to you when you fell asleep; you could only recall the ghostly pale silver and ashen blue that spread over the wheat fields and another serene, barely audible serenade hummed by Mingi. But just as quickly as you had drifted into a dreamless slumber, you jolted awake at the sound of your name being repeated once, twice by your best friend. Momentarily lost, you waited for your vision to focus before following the sounds of the truck door clicking shut and of rubber soles hitting gravel by fumbling for the handle. As soon as you opened the salon, you were embraced in full by the omnipresent hum of wildlife and distant rustle of leaves and tall grass, the field at which you stopped having been long abandoned and left barren, with only dirt to present as a fruit of labour.

Stepping onto the soft earth, you could feel the cool dampness beneath your shoes, a tactile reminder of the quiet countryside that surrounded you as far as the eye could see. Mingi, his presence like a comforting shield in the stillness of the night, paused in his search for the tools he had packed. A profound hush settled over the landscape, prompting you to tilt your head and look on further, to spot the target barely a couple hundred metres away. So this was it. The promised sacrifice. The place where the past could finally quit holding on to you and tearing you apart. The abandoned barn loomed ahead like a relic from another universe and a time long gone.

The moonlight painted the barn in ethereal shades, casting a melancholic beauty upon its worn facade. Mingi's eyes held the weight of a thousand untold stories and observations, and in the quiet exchange of glances, you detected a shared understanding – a recognition that you had the right, and more than deserved to forgive yourself, and throw away the hurt you had accumulated over the years with a light heart. He stood beside you, holding onto the sacks that you had stuffed full of items that haunted you, mutely berated you and induced agonising ruminations. Papers, trinkets, utter garbage that you had never been able to throw out on your own, all collected like nightmare capsules and you were more than elated to bid them farewell.

He had not yet taken off his glasses, eager to move onwards and upwards. One of these days you might muster up the courage to tell Mingi just how handsome he was in whatever style he chose, but that was a mission for a more courageous you. From tonight into the myriad of tomorrows. Your partner in self-revolution stretched his arms towards you, gingerly passing the hefty items over and waiting for you to get a better grip. To think that there were clouds of buzzing paranoia and dread attached to either one - suffocating, persistent.

While regarding Mingi’s tranquil resolve, you discovered a sliver of a near-boyish excitement, so characteristic of him before growing pains had changed your relationship and all that came with it, that your heart ached, and a prickly sensation made itself known on the back of your hand where he had left a solitary peck. And yet, he still was not giving up on you. From the pocket of his jeans - appearing to take on the shade of a washed out chrome under the shining skies, Mingi produced a box of matches, and upon leaning closer to the truck, grasped the handle of a stick protruding from a miniature canister. More than enough to carry out the impending transformation. Mingi’s stunning orbs met yours, and without words, he conveyed a mixture of determination and sorrow, a silent promise and cheer for the grand finale.

"Here’s to letting go, and to holding on to the things that make us right," he uttered, his voice carrying the power of a truth that echoed in the night air.

“Then… I’ll be right back.”

“I will be here. Cousin said everything’s unlocked. Put things in places where the fire’ll reach.”

One step. Another. Walk turning into run, you chased after who you wished to become and propelled yourself with unprecedented pride. You could do this. With one quick push the door to the barn creaked open, and you made haste in lining the walls with who you used to be. You could taste ash on your tongue and see the fire in your pupils even though you were consumed by pitch black; here, you had the final say. Upon throwing the sacks into whatever direction, you felt your way back out, and returned to Mingi who, apparently, had the time to reposition the car a little to have the back be facing the barn. With a mischievous grin he greeted you, and pulled you into a quick embrace before giving you a matchstick and the box and leading the two of you to the structure one last time.

This had been an agreement between you - you were the one to light the first flame, and he was the one to do the rest. Though this was a journey of healing, he did not wish for you to delude yourself into a guilt-ridden state. Mingi could bear the brunt of that for you and wear it like a badge of honour. As though patrolling the grounds, he went in a circle around the barn, leaving behind the acrid stench of splattered gasoline. Suddenly, the act felt more and more real. A yelp caught in your throat as Mingi shoved the empty canister inside through a loose wooden board, now only holding onto the unlit torch. Gazed at you, awaiting the monumental execution.

Trembling just a little, on the third try you managed to light the match, and stepped to the building full of your painful memories. the flames danced in the blackness like whispers of farewell. As you approached the ancient barn with Mingi in toe, the match's glow illuminated the grains of wood that had weathered countless storms. The night seemed to draw its breath, as though it sensed the profound act about to unfold. Outstretching the judgement between your fingers, you hesitated for a fleeting moment. The gravity of the act hung heavy – the acknowledgment that setting fire to the past was a painful necessity for new beginnings. Nevertheless, you were certain. The barn, with its history that you will never learn, became a symbol of surrender, resilience and perseverance. Holding your breath, you dropped the match, but when the result did not satisfy you, you sensed a wave of rage. You wanted more, you needed it all gone from sight and experience.

“Mingi.”

“Hm?”

“The torch, please.”

“Oh?”

“Please.”

With a silent understanding, Mingi raised the torch, the flames licking eagerly at its edges, and passed it to you. The blade that would slash through it all. The full stop at the end of this turbulent chapter. As you touched the fire to the barn, a crackling symphony echoed through the night. The dry wood, with the base generously coated in gasoline caught quickly, and soon the barn was ablaze, a kaleidoscope of oranges, reds, and yellows against the backdrop of the moonlit fields.

The flames danced with an insatiable hunger, consuming the old wood with a fervour that mirrored the intensity of emotions in the hearts of the witnesses. Shadows flickered and danced on the ground, casting ephemeral images of what once was, each crackle of the fire a poignant reminder of the release happening before your eyes. Mingi turned to you, his eyes reflecting the blaze that mirrored the intensity of his and your emotions. In that poignant moment, the warmth of the fire contrasted with the chill in the night air, echoing the bittersweet nature of letting go.

"We are making room for something new," he whispered before pulling you into a long-awaited kiss, as searing and filled with longing as the soaring flames that illuminated your bodies. The crackling fire served as a cathartic release, and in its glow, you saw promise. As soon as you parted, the two of you rushed to the truck, climbing to take the front seats to admire the masterpiece, not daring to sit apart, holding onto each other through it all.

As the fire continued its dance, the night bore witness to the act of relinquishing the old, a solemn ritual that paved the way to more and more. Together, you and Mingi stood amidst the mesmerising spectacle, your hearts intertwined with the rhythm of the burning, ready to step into the unknown and shape a destiny yet to unfold.

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nouearth · 10 months

Text

because i love you.

jason todd x male reader.

summary: your birthday is a memory you often ignore. jason is determined to forge a new, unforgettable one.

wc: 3k. genre: fluff, comfort. warnings: domestic!au, crying, descriptions of food.

a/n: happy belated birthday, anon! i know this was late, but i wanted to priortize this over my other requests before it would be even later, LOL. hope you had a great one, and that this was a gift to remember!

request: anon.

“so,” a gruff voice briefly broke your focus from peering through the oven door, but the cookies had seconds left in the oven, so you'd figure a hum to acknowledge jason's presence would suffice.

it was a painful and mundane process to squat and watch the cookie batter form into heavenly, ooey-gooey chocolatey goodness. sure, you could’ve done something to pass the time—finish your backlog of books, or even the tv dramas you promised your friends you would finish soon—but the cookies always came out perfect like this.

once, you decided to do laundry while letting the cookies bake. as soon as the oven rang, the thought of over-baking your perfected recipe of cookies, that everyone had gleefully devoured and expected at every potluck, chased you faster than a wild fox could. to your bewilderment (and exhaustion), a few seconds longer in the oven changed the texture of the baked treats. though no one noticed, even if you insisted that the taste changed as well, it ruined your entire day and since then, you’ve made a silly promise to yourself to never let these cookies out of your sight.

even if your boyfriend was squatting with you, kissing you at the neck now.

“earth to (m/n),” his lips brushed deep into your skin, and you could hear him inhaling your natural scent. for a minute there, he forgot you were baking, so the smell of chocolate and brown sugar certainly awakened an unexpected appetite in him. it growled.

“hello.” jason stretched a whisper into your neck, and you chuckled when his gruff voice tickled you, vowels vibrating lowly into your skin.

“someone’s needy.” you turned to finally greet him with a smile, some kind of acknowledgement, and he begrudgingly accepted it with a kiss. it was almost as sweet as the sugar crystals in the cookie batter he sampled earlier.

two more minutes now.

“guess i’ll have to bake myself into a cookie to get your attention these days,” jason muttered, pressing his chest to your broad back. the heat from the oven radiated in front of you, yet your back felt warmer.

your head leaned back on his shoulder, grinning towards his frown while he tucked his chin in the vacant space between your neck and shoulder. “whoa, are you envious of my cookies now? that’s kind of sick considering you inhale them within seconds after i take them out of the oven—“

“i eat anything.” jason stated dryly, his palms roamed over your stomach to chase his appetite away as if your body and his were connected. his lips found your neck again, adding to the flush of your skin while one hand slipped under the waistband of your shorts to satiate a different craving. your legs slowly sprawled to accommodate his inviting touch, humming. “they make a great pre-workout.”

and with the close of your legs, access had been denied. “so, they’re not delicious like you’ve been claiming?”

jason widened his eyes, yanking his hand out of your shorts to put his hands up defensively. “wait, no. that’s not— okay, we’re getting off-topic!”

“hey,“ the oven sang, and with a delighted hop, you abandoned your boyfriend on the floor to tend to your long-awaited baked goods. “you’re the one that brought it up!”

the smell of chocolate and sugar billowed in the air when you opened the oven, and jason’s appetite returned like a parasite once the delicious aroma hit his nose.

it hadn’t been that long since you’ve started baking, but your hobby had quickly become a beloved activity (and expense), and your affection for it was telling through the wear and tear of your oven mitts. you burned yourself a few times when the baking sheet pressed into various ripped holes, but despite jason’s concern, you never found it damaged enough to purchase a new one. besides, it didn’t take very long to learn the pattern of the hot spots.

two baking sheets, filled with freshly-baked cookies, slid onto the stovetop, and you closed the oven, turning it off after. steam rose from the bloomed batter and you marveled at the sight: rustic, crinkly brown doughs that harbored mounds of comfort and nostalgia in one snack. though for some people, in one bite. the smell hits you after, stung your nose with brown sugar and chocolate chips, and you approved the batch with a deep inhale.

“what did you want to talk about?” a crack of kosher salt was topped to the cookies, adding to the rustic presentation of the baked goods.

“well,” the smell of the cookies pulled him back to his feet, then by your side as he watched the chunky salt enchant the goods to a higher level. “it’s someone’s birthday soon.” though he knew not to, he reached out to sample an edge of the dough anyway.

“careful,” you watched him with amusement and high curiosity, eyebrows raised to inquire him of the taste. though you knew the answer by the time the chocolate hit his tongue, it was tenfold more interesting than the topic of your birthday. “what about it?” you asked, and he hummed in approval, greed guiding his hand back to the piping hot cookies.

“so—ow,” the heat bit at jason’s fingers and his hand yanked back to immediately flick remnants of the sting off. “didn’t you want to do anything? a party? dinner? you never even told me what you wanted for your gifts.”

“hm,” you took the oven mitts off and directed the draft towards the steam with quick and light swings, then towards jason’s fingers as he began picking at the chocolate that oozed out. “i never took you as someone who cared about birthdays that much.”

“yeah, well,” he blew on his chocolate stained finger once more before pressing it to your smile. “we’re learning more about each other every day, aren’t we?”

“and it’s kind of incredible how you haven’t dumped me yet.” you laughed and licked the bittersweet stain off your lips. jason only joined with a mere chuckle. he never liked it when you talked about yourself like this.

“seriously though,” jason leaned on the counter with his elbow, nudging your waist with a gentle pat. his hair delicately parted to the side, watching you like you were the only one. “what do you want to do? we can do whatever you want.” devouring the cookies was the last thing on his mind now.

you’re the only one.

“jason,” the steam slowly waft in the air as you averted your gaze to the cookies cooling. salt glinted under the lights, and they have never looked sweeter. “it’s sweet of you and i appreciate it, but…” yet, there was a bitter aftertaste when you nibbled on a crumble. “i don’t really celebrate my birthday.”

“what?” his immediate instinct was to hold you, taking you by the waist as if it could protect you from the memory of the past. “how come? did something bad happen?”

“no, no. nothing like that!” laughing it off always helped you alleviate the bitterness of your thoughts. “it’s just…” but for some reason, your throat began to swell when you do.

“just…?” jason pressed his hand to your waist in a heartfelt attempt at squeezing an answer out of you. “come on, i’m at the edge of my seat here.”

you laughed, taking his hand off and then into your own, as you guided him out of the kitchen and to the living room. the sweet smell was dizzying now. plus your legs hurt from the squatting earlier. you needed some place to snuggle yourself into. preferably, your couch.

“my family could never afford stuff, so it hasn’t been a thing since…” a yawn escaped your lips as you found comfort into the embrace of jason’s arms. his broad chest was a pillow you never asked for, and these days, you found it to be the best solace your head demanded for. “i guess when i was eight?”

“oh,” jason realized, then began stroking the side of your head as an apology. “i didn’t mean to pry or—“

“it’s no big deal.” in between his caresses, you quickly tilted your head back to press a kiss to his palm—a measurement to dispel his worries. “i’ve spent a longer part of my life not celebrating it, so it’s just a norm now! honestly, i didn’t even notice that my birthday was coming up until you mentioned it to me.”

closing your eyes, images of your family appeared in soft, fading blurs. they smiled through gritted teeth, as did you, and sweated through hard labor of work that managed to put food on a table. “and i also don’t blame my parents, if that’s what you’re thinking. i did at first, but shit happens.”

though, never a cake.

“you really do nothing since then, though? not even cook yourself dinner or something?” the affection caresses spread to your cheeks and the warmth pulled at the corners of your mouth into a smile.

“i did once,” you shifted to connect your warmth to his. in midst, you were reminded that the smell of jason’s cologne will always triumph over the scent of your cookies. “but it just kind of made things sad, to be honest. it felt weird.”

“but you celebrated my birthday.” the memories warmed him. “for someone who never celebrated their own, you sure knew how to throw a great party.” laughter, a delicious dinner, and drink shenanigans echoed in passing. “even if it was only us.”

you chuckled at the irony of it all, satisfied that you’ve managed to impress your boyfriend despite your inexperience.

“well,” glancing up, you then held jason’s doting stare, collected it into your soul, and then sealed it into a vault.

“that’s because i love you.”

the stroll from your car and to your apartment seized all the energy left in you. aside from carrying bags of groceries, the heavy weight slowly drained your arms of life, the long day of work had a major factor to your exhaustion. awaiting approvals while you were approaching a tight deadline was never ideal, but luckily it got extended, so you can sleep a teensy-bit better tonight.

grunting, your veins pulsed when you lifted the heavy bags with one arm to punch in the code to your keypad, refusing to be defeated by packs of frozen fruit, greek yogurt, jason’s protein powder, and his mandatory cereal boxes. the beep and green light compelled a satisfied noise out of you and you immediately bouldered into your apartment, stumbling through the garden of your shoes and jason’s, and into the kitchen within a single, hurried stride.

“jase?!” you grunted loud from below, setting the groceries down as soon as the handles pressed into a certain spot in your vein that made you wince. jason’s voiced boomed from above.

“yeah?!”

as much as you hated it when jason left his soda out, today would be an exception. you downed it in one dreamy gulp, and you could feel your body absorb the sugars, working overtime to churn it into energy afterward.

“can you put the groceries back for me?! i want to go shower!” the kitchen sink alleviated some of that humidity built atop your hands, but you needed it off your body.

“yeah!” jason shouted out. “i’ll be down in a sec!”

it took you a moment, still high from the amount of energy you’ve exerted within the short amount of time, but the air smelled sweetly familiar. of vanilla, brown sugar, a hint of cinnamon, you sniffed out.

must’ve baked the cookies i froze for him. you looked around, a sudden desperate need for another ounce of sugar in your body after your commendable performance today.

and of course, he ate them all.

as soon as you came up the stairs, jason met you outside with a kiss—a password to your bedroom, you’d reckon.

your arms opened up for a hug. “they didn’t have the flavor you wanted, so i—“ but embracing the body of your lover, they were immediately occupied by a pile of your clothes for the night.

“yeah, yeah! that’s fine.” jason began nudging, then pushing you to the bathroom, scrunching his face. “you stink, go shower.”

“wait, why are you acting—“ bewilderment passed you as you stumbled back, and your curiosity was met by more push back, literally. the latter looked nerved, unusually antsy, and that was never a good sign. “jason, are you okay—“

“uh-huh, yeah! yeah, yeah. fine.” before you could even get another question out, the door slammed shut. “wash up! i’m gonna put the groceries back!”

oooookay..?

it took a few beats to register what exactly happened, but all of it was buried to the back of your mind as soon as you started the shower. refreshing and cooling as that soda you downed earlier.

damn, i should’ve restocked on that…

the cold draft cooled your damp skin when you stepped out the bathroom, releasing harbored humidity, and your stress for the day left along with it.

“hey,” your voice echoed while you stepped downstairs, expecting jason to either be on the couch or in the kitchen, most likely eating away at your snacks. “what do you want to eat for dinner—“

“jason?” instead, you were met with complete darkness—well, as dark as it could be while impending dusk approached your windows.

he wasn’t on the couch, entertainment-free.

you stepped into the kitchen. not there, either. the groceries were put away, but the plastic bags were scattered around the floor. not a single soul, a whisper, or a sound, except for the crinkle of the bags as you stashed them into your recyclables.

either the shower cleared your sinuses, or jason plugged in a new wall fragrance, because the smell was sweeter compared to before. chocolate in its new top note, and vanilla, again, in its base.

it was strange, you checked the oven. though it was warm, nothing was out of place. then the fridge, nope—jason didn’t stash any leftovers there. once again, catalogued the entire kitchen, suspiciously nothing.

you figured you’ll ask jason about it later, whenever he would come back, but for now, your priority was satiating that grumble in your stomach. as you browsed through your fridge for ingredients after turning on the lights, the cooling air wafted the sweetness away, only for it to return stronger.

and just as quick as the smell of chocolate returned, the lights flickered off.

“what the—“ you turned, and your curiosity was immediately startled by the presence of the missing man. “jesus, jason. where were—“

the only source of light that lit the room came from a soft yellow blur that flickered near jason’s chin. gentle, then not so when he took a step. another waver of light when the draft caught onto the light as he approached you. the light grew bigger, flickered stronger, as if it was connected to your heart and memorized every beat, and the smell of chocolate was pleasantly stringent to your nose.

cake.

it was a chocolate cake all along, and jason held it with a smile that had been shadowed by the candle. anxiously, you’ve never seen him wore it with a grin before, but it made your heart skip another beat, then two when he confessed.

“happy birthday,” the dark of your orbs refracted the candlelight, yellow and orange light reunited with a wave, several excited waves as if they’ve lost you, and the smoke burning off it cooled the impending wetness of your eyes.

“what— what is this?” your breath hiked, and the candles found it calming, like the sea breeze as it brushed against them—through them. “what are—“

it felt like an eternity since you’ve been celebrated. no, it had been an eternity.

tears slowly rolled down your cheeks as you felt years pass by, heard the cries of a child that received nothing.

the first year, it was because you were expecting of it. a gift that was never promised, but your hands were bare of nothing.

the second year, it was hope. something that clung onto because you were promised something.

the third year. it was denial. it had to be this year, right? you rocked yourself to sleep the night before.

the fourth year. anger. you screamed as if a gift was the only testament in the world to truly display a parent’s love for their child.

then, the fifth year. acceptance.

and since, you’ve matured, learned why, and thought it was for the better.

“make a wish,” jason said calmly, breaking you from the spell of your own thoughts.

“what?” you croaked weakly.

years of sheltering your birthday made you clueless, but luckily, jason was here to teach you—to remind you.

“make a wish, then blow.” as much as he wanted to hold you right now, he couldn’t risk his hard work dropping to the floor.

“oh—“ you did as you were told. you wished silently, closing your eyes until another swell of tears were forced to roll out, then blew.

when jason turned the lights back on, the sight of the cake pulled a laugh out of you. slanted in its position, chocolate smeared all over the cake board, thick icing to cover up the mistakes, you laughed until you wiped tears.

“did you bake this for me?” you snickered, taking the cake and setting it down, because you needed to hug him, embrace him, squeeze him.

“god,” jason laughed, pressed a kiss to your head as he took you in with a strong hug. “if i bought a cake that looked like that, i’d demand two refunds. one for the cake, and one for the happiness they swindled from me.”

“i told you not to, though!” you playfully beat at his chest, the blush on your cheeks pulled a smile wider than you have ever felt, than jason had ever seen. “why?”

“because,” he sighed, then pressed his forehead to yours, holding your damp gaze like it was a prayer. the tension in both your bodies go limp, and he held you closer, worshipping you until he became besotted in your smell, your voice, your gaze, your touch.

“because,” jason repeated, and you held his cheeks, caressing his rough skin.

until even your existence wouldn’t be enough to sober him.

“because i love you.”

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. andif you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

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derinthescarletpescatarian · 23 days

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Options for the next web serial Patreon vote

It's time to vote on what the next derinwrites web serial will be. Sample chapters for each option will be provided shortly, then a poll will go up so that patrons can vote on what web serial I should write next.

Inner Life

Nobody knows who they really are when they’re first born. But most people get time to figure it out, and when you’re a body-snatching alien parasite, you don’t get that luxury. The parasites that find themselves on the starship Jolly Codger don’t know what a human is, or what their spaceship’s mission is, or where they’re going. They don’t know who on the ship is an ally, and who is an uninfected human who’ll kill them the moment they’re detected. But they’d better figure it out, because the Jolly Codger has its own secrets and its own enemies, and the real threat isn’t the crew – it’s what’s chasing them.

Child of a Wandering Star

Tyk is a normal adolescent girl, interested in normal adolescent things – earning gems for her carapace, learning to be the best burrower for the hive, making her mother and father and altmother and altfather proud of her. But Tyk was born under a Wandering Star, destined to be a traveller, and it’s hard to really feel a part of a hive that raises you with the expectation of watching you leave them someday. Tyk doesn’t want to go. She’s ready to fight destiny.

But her destiny finds her when a star-egg falls from the sky and hatches a baby god. Soft-shelled, two-legged and clawless, this larva is all but helpless on its own and quickly attaches itself to Tyk. The Stargazers divine that it should be brought to Starspire, the place where earth meets sky, so that it can be returned to its people. This, here, is the destiny that Tyk was born to.

But Tyk’s not sure she’s cut out for such a gruelling journey, and she’s certainly not cut out for raising a baby god. Is this really her journey to make?

Silverbane

Jade was just looking to fulfil her jobseeker requirements and get her Centrelink payment. She didn’t expect to actually get the job working at the mysterious new pawn shop full of weird, creepy artefacts. She had no interest in dealing with bleeding knives, ghost dolls, and whatever the hell it is that keeps using all the mugs in the break room without washing them, even when nobody’s present in the shop but her.

Jade would like to be able to shrug and say that it’s none of her business. She really, really wishes that she was the kind of person who could leave things alone if they weren’t her business. But after snooping a little too deep a little too often, she finds herself tangled up in something a lot scarier than the occasional haunted doll, working for the kind of… “people”… who are perfectly happy to eliminate something the moment it becomes more dangerous to them than useful. And through them, she can learn more about how the world really works than she ever expected.

She just has to hope that it’s worth it.

Our Side of the River Styx

A woman who can see the dead joins forces with her zombie wife to become exorcists-for-hire, helping the dead and living alike find peace. But there’s something strange going on with the barrier between worlds; something stranger than murderous phantoms in white or menacing shadowy figures in hotels. Something… organised. Something growing.

The exorcists are out to pay the rent, not save the world. But when a string of supposedly unconnected jobs forms such an obvious trail of bread crumbs, what is there to do but follow it? Will our Styx-crossed lovers figure out what’s at the heart of this conspiracy in time to thwart it, or does this adventure end in a long-overdue funeral?

The Princess of Ruby Island

Every little girl dreams of being whisked away to be the princess of a magical world on their tenth birthday. But for Jessica Nyle, born on February 29th, finding herself in a strange magical realm on her tenth birthday at age 40 is surprising, to say the least. And what they don’t tell little girls about fantastical magical realms built from dreams is that they’re prone to environmental instability, which can cause mass famine. And that magical limitations can cause factionalisation and extreme power imbalances, which leads to oppression and war. And that the idea of an island made entirely of ruby sounds fantastic, but ruby loses its charm and value as a gemstone when it’s literally the ground you walk on and, as a probably unimportant side detail, one thing you can’t do with ruby is grow crops in it. So that’s less than ideal.

This isn’t the whimsical adventure that mass media had lead Jessica to expect as a child, where all you needed to do to save the world was be brave and true and hold love in your heart and believe in yourself despite everything. Being the Princess of Ruby Island is a dirty job that requires cunning, hard work, political acumen, and a whole lot of luck. And it certainly doesn’t help that forces festering on Ruby Island were quite comfortable filling the previous power vacuum and would very much prefer it if there was no Princess bustling about and messing up their plans.

This is gonna take the power of a LOT of friendships to sort out.

The Cinder Boy

Owen is a wizard’s servant, and has been since he was old enough to walk. He doesn’t remember the mother who abandoned him there or the world she came from, and has never really thought much on the issue. Until the day the old crone comes to the wizard’s tower and, defying the wizard who tries to throw her out (Owen had never, until that moment, see anybody successfully defy the wizard), tells him that his mother was one of the Cinderellae, the hidden organisation of destiny-weavers named for the punishment doled out to them if they are caught – to be burned alive on the town pyre. Other people, she tells him, will try to get their hooks in him, and this tower can no longer keep him safe.

With the help of three friendly breezes trapped in the bodies of helpful mice and a shard of mage glass for protection, Owen must journey into the dangerous world that the wizard’s tower has sheltered him from his whole life. He’s watched the wizard weave people’s destinies for years, but until now, he’s never had to weave his own.

He’d better figure it out fast. Because danger is brewing in the kingdom, and he seems to be somebody’s pawn. He just wishes he knew whose.

Drops of Blood Like Neon Stars

This one is already being written on and off in my free time. Promoting it to main story would allow me to spend my full time on it and ensure weekly updates.

Vampires are good at stability. Life in the Scarlet City has been stable, despite the competing blood factions, for a long time, as has been their mutually beneficial relationship with the human city above. But when a drastic political play by young vampires coincides with a mysterious slate of human murders, Lissa needs to find out what’s going on and put a stop to it before the City is plunged into all-out war.

Holy Light

It’s been 164 years since the Rapture, and 157 years since the end of the world, but humanity’s still doing what humanity does best: holding on. Ageless and resistant to damage and disease, the people who had the luck and quick thinking to hide themselves from God’s purifying light as it uplifted every soul it touched a century and a half ago live on in the dark, doing their best to keep going forward in a world trying to end. But with no new souls coming into Earth, no children have been born since the end. And all it takes to be abducted to heaven is one mistake, one small kiss of sunlight. Eventually, humanity is going to lose this fight.

But Claire thinks she might have found an answer. A way to bring new children into the world once more, a way to return to the flow of normal time. And if it works, then just maybe, they can save the world.

I Am Not The Chosen One

Hannah is having mysterious dreams of a gate on a hill. Jake is getting urgent messages from a strange man in the mirror. Victoria might have accidentally summoned a demon, and Blaire is the luckiest unlucky seventeen year old in the world and has almost died three times this week alone, which is great for his tiktok career but less so for his long-term survival. But the thing that’s really interfering with all of their lives is the shadowy organisation of strangers who keep trying to abduct them.

They’re looking for the Chosen One. The Chosen One, firstborn child of the lost princess of Vanalia, needs to go with them through a portal to a magical land to save everyone there from a tyrannical dark lord, but anyone other than the Chosen One would almost certainly die. Hannah, Jake, Victoria and Blaire are pretty sure that none of them are the Chosen One, but the strangers seem dead set on trying anyway. The only way out seems to be to find this lost princess or her firstborn child for these strangers, and send them off on a magical coming-of-age adventure. But how does one even go about tracking down a Chosen One?

Denise Frank’s Feelgood Recipe Blog

Join me, Denise Frank, on my blog, where every week I share one of my favourite recipes! Every recipe blog needs long, rambling personal stories before getting to the recipe, and mine is no exception. I’ve had a lot of time to cook and not many people to talk to since The Event, so you can expect a high quality blog from me, full of recipes that have been tried hundreds if not thousands of times! Thousands of times over thousands of days. Thousands and thousands of days. I’d have thought I’d be noticeably older by now, but I’m not. I guess that’s what good food and a positive attitude can do for you!

Come and visit my blog for delicious recipes and happy memories, and positive affirmations to help you make it through the day! After all, we gotta get through today to see tomorrow, and there’s gotta be something worth seeing tomorrow! Experience suggests that it probably won’t be something pleasant, but it’ll definitely be something worth seeing! This has to end eventually. Join me to learn to make delicious apple crumble, a microwave brownie for every day of the week, and a beef jerky recipe that my husband used to love! Can’t wait to see you there!

I’d really like to see you.

#writing #derinwrites

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noroi1000 · 5 months

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December 31 at 11:59 p.m

One shot for happy new year

Warnings: Sexual subtext (perverted Gojo)

A/n: Happy New Year Everyone!

"Satoru?"

You looked around the house for your lover. Your everything. Boyfriend, friend, lover��everything possible. But he will never be your enemy.

You reached for your phone to check the time. Perhaps he went on a mission? He's not home, and you also slept late in the morning. And it's all because of him... He didn't let you sleep earlier. Maybe he left early because he was called? Perhaps it was so. It was already 1 p.m.He certainly went on a mission. But you didn't expect that his teacher would be working after the holidays. So it was definitely a mission.

Basically, you went to sleep when the sun was already rising. It was sunrise, and only then could you fall asleep.

Your apartment has remained as it was. You saw his shirt lying in the corner of the room. It was certain that he didn't want to clean up after himself sometimes. Even after he runs to the bed, undressing along the way, he attacks you as quickly as possible. When he started living with you, you thought he would destroy your house. You both pay the bills, but you're surprised that he lives with you and not in his house. Since he certainly had a house of the same standard as you. You wanted to live modestly, but with all these conveniences.

You had a beautiful apartment overlooking the city. No noise disturbed you, thanks to the soundproofing. You could relax in the bathtub in jacuzzi mode. I earn money to live like a princess. At least in your own home. Sometimes you can't stop yourself from buying something you want. It doesn't matter how much it costs.

At first, you thought Satoru would be like a parasite on your credit card. But later, you found out that the money he earns is enough to buy even more. And you're not as wasteful as he is. You're not the one who imports snacks and sweets from abroad to see how they taste. He buys the most food. And in addition, sometimes he goes into a shopping frenzy where he doesn't buy anything cheap because he wants to be a model at home for you.

White shirts for ¥600,000? That's exactly him. However, it doesn't bother you. Why should it bother you that he spends his money on something like this? Since it doesn't even threaten the amount of his salary. And so a prince was added to your life as a princess, who made you live like a true queen.

Your two-meter-tall parasite with white hair disappeared from the house in the morning without waking you up, and the only thing he told you was:

„If you're reading this, I left home (⁠｢⁠'⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠)⁠｢” “I'll be back before evening. I still have to plan our New Year's Eve.”

Oh yes. It's today. December 31st. In a few hours, it will be another year... This is the first New Year's Eve with him. If he lasted one year with you, maybe the next one will be even better? Anyway, you need to focus more on surviving December 31st to enter January 1st. If his plans for tonight are the same as yours and his birthday, you need to save your energy.

On your birthday, it was you who was playing with him, not him playing with you.

"The last day of the year, the next year, huh..."

With that in mind, grabbing your favorite cookies and drink, you undressed and went to the bathtub. Soothe your body, gain energy, and enjoy relaxation. You don't have anything to do today anyway.

Scented candles created a pleasant atmosphere. The blinds in the house are closed. And this is called life. The light you set for pleasure.

"Oi Oi Oi!"

You suddenly jumped out of the bathtub, sat up straight, and spun around.

Is Satoru back?

"Satoru?"

"It's me, honey! But I'm not here!"

"Huh?"

"I installed a speaker at home! When I'm away from home, I can speak, and you'll hear me even without a phone! Well, it's kind of like a loud telephone that can be heard throughout the apartment."

"Why?"

"We'll see each other in person only in the evening! It won't be long, actually! You fell asleep in the bathtub!"

What's wrong with him at this point?

"I know you had a nice sleep, honey~! But seriously, tell me, do you have any toys under that foam in the water~? Are you playing in the bath without me?"

"I have nothing, you pervert!" you held your hands up. "Wait, how do you know I'm in the bathtub?"

"You have cameras at home! In case of a break-in! You told me about it once! It was inactive, but I made use of it. I have the app on my phone, and I can see you right now."

Why is the camera in the bathroom, and why is it pointed at the bathtub? He must have set it up! You were sure there were cameras in the hallway, near the entrance, and in the living room!

"Don't be shy now~. I sent you a message. Location. Wipe your sweet ass, and please go there. Ijichi can come pick you up."

"What is there?"

You wanted to call him a white-haired pervert, but he always says that... Must there be some sexual undertones in all the jokes he tells you?

When you met him, he wasn't like that. Sure, he was constantly flirting with you. But now his flirtations always have sexual undertones, or he talks like a professional seducer.

You're the only one he loves, and he said if he cheats on you, you can beat him up.

Was this an attempt to make fun of you? Or maybe it was to show that he will never cheat on you because he doesn't want to be beaten by you?

Well, never mind.

Since he sent you the address of a clothes shop where you walked in and got a bag with the dress he chose for you. But since he bought you a dress, you're going out today, right? So a little extra never hurts. Besides, Satoru likes it when you look beautiful. And if you wear the necklace, he won't get around your neck.

Judging by the color of the dress, you chose something that fits perfectly.

The dress was dark but had shiny details. You will feel like a mafia wife. But Satoru kills, so it's similar.

You don't even worry about the fact that he had blood on his hands so many times.

The important thing is that it's him.

„11. 59. Roof." he sent you this message.

"Oh, at 11:59 pm on the roof?"

Excitement was building within you with each passing minute.

Until finally, 10 minutes before the scheduled time, you arrived on the roof, seeing your boyfriend running around hanging small gold lights on the railing.

"Toru."

When he heard your voice, he turned around quickly and smiled, scanning you with his eyes.

"I knew you would look beautiful."

Your welcome was long. He hugged you, kissed you and complimented you. He showed you what he had prepared for you.

Suddenly, he pushed you against the railing until your back touched the metal.

"Whatever the last minutes of this year will be, that's what next year will be like, right?"

"Huh?"

He glanced at his watch and suddenly parted your lips, kissing you continuously. A passionate kiss shook your body.

Fireworks were lit in various places, and people shot them off, celebrating the new year that has now arrived.

A minute later, he removed his lips from yours, licking his lips. Smearing the slight color left on his lips from your lipstick.

"If you start kissing at 11:59 on New Year's Eve, stop at 12:01 am. 1st of January. When the new year comes. Then the whole year will be as sweet as this moment."

You smiled, hugging him.

"You saw it on the internet, right?"

"Yup. But I thought it was so sweet. Happy New Year ❤️"

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x you #gojo satoru #gojo x y/n #jjk x reader #gojo #jjk #gojo x reader

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souredwaters · 2 months

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happy birthday you little brain parasite.

drawing based on "escaping criticism", a painting by pere borrel del caso.

now if you'll excuse me i need to slam my face into a table to remind myself never to draw picture frames ever again.

#dst wes #dst #ds wes #wes dst #dontstarvetogether #dont starve together #dont starve wes #wes dont starve

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yaimenbones · 10 months

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Imagine you're Charlie, your daughter has been dead for over a hundred days.

She's died just when you promised her and yourself to be better. To show her you care. To show her how much you love her. To be the father she deserved.

It's been over a hundred days, and new people have come to the island. None of them knew her like you did (ten days aren't enough time to know anyone for that matter).

They don't understand what it's like to lose a child. (Only two of them know, and one is 6ft underwater and the other has learned to cope and move on).

You see these new people gain children, and you are left to wonder where is yours. Where is yours that you tried so hard to bring back.

The hole in your heart doesn't seem to close. So you cope. You cope by living vicariously through a parasite. A parasite that everyone seems to love more than you.

And you never learn to cope healthily. You never learn to be yourself around others.

Until you do. Because these people are nice. They're patient. They don't understand, and they don't try to understand what you've been through (God Knows you don't want them to live what you lived), but they're kind.

And the hole in your heart starts healing. It never closes, no. It'll never make the emptiness go away. But these little eggs make you soft and kind, and the people are patient and nice, so you start to heal.

You learn to try to be yourself.

Your birthday comes around and you are happy, you're having fun. You're connecting with your nephew and niece and it's perfect. (It's like you were made to care for the little eggs). It's your birthday, and you are finally closing the hole in your heart.

And then you see her.

Your little girl.

She's there, right there. She's running around with that hyperactivity you know.

(It's your birthday and father's day, the irony too painful to even rationalize.)

She's different. She's cracked. She's saying and writing strange things.

But she's there.

Your little girl is there.

So you run after her, begging her to let you hold her (After finally learning how to hold someone close with love and care that a father could give). You beg her to stay, you need her to stay.

And you cry out after her when she leaves.

And you promise her, no matter what. You'll wait for her and love her.

And you're left crying to yourself, surrounded by signs of "I l0ve y0uu"'s from your little girl in an unfamiliar beautiful place making the situation feel laughably tragic.

And the hole in your heart bleeds again.

#qsmp slimecicle #charlie slimecicle #qsmp #qsmp charlie slimecicle #august 12th 2023 slimecicle incident #i am so normal about that stream.#So incredibly normal.#slimecicle

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deliciousdefendorinternet · 2 months

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not sure Wether anyone's done this yet? but last night I kept thinking about the great angst potential of a story where Bro zone have to travel through Branch's memories in order to save his life.

like I said the ideas kept coming to me last night like the story could be Branch gets attacked by some sorta parasite that starts slowly draining his life energy while infecting his mind and keeping him in a deep sleep state.

so the only way to save him is for a group of people to do some magic meditation crap courteously of Creek lol to travel into Branch's mind to chase after the parasite which has travelled through his memories.

so of course Bro zone insist on being the ones to go despite Poppy not being sure about the whole thing due to seeing it as somewhat an invasion of privacy especially for someone as private as Branch tho the others remind her its the only way to save his life.

so from then on its just a perfect excuse for some heart-breaking Angst as the Bros follow the trail of the parasite leading them further and further back into different memories of Branch's.

like I imagine things start off seemingly harmless enough where at first they end up in a memory from later on in his Bunker years but still prior to the first film.

and its just Branch dancing around in his Bunny Pyjamas while the Bros all laugh their heads off thinking its just a funny embarrassing memory.

but Bunny Branch feels a tiny tremor in the ground and instantly runs and hides under his Bed clearly panicked thinking a Bergen is approaching.

his Brothers somewhat saddened to see this try to tell him that it was just a minor tremor and he doesn't need to be afraid but they realise that isn't how it works and they can't actually directly interact with anyone in the memories.

their basically just invisible ghosts who can do nothing but watch the memory play out.

anyway they continue following the Trail of the parasite to memories further back they arrive at one with a teenage looking Branch in the Bunker actually getting ready for an outing.

he's in a suit and is trying to tie a proper bowtie and there's multiple invites from Poppy to a Birthday party on the table making it clear to the Bros what's going on.

young Branch takes a deep breath and with a small present in his hand he goes to the entrance of the Bunker which his bros are all happy to see.

only for their smiles to fade when they see him stop right at the entrance looking at the door and hearing some party music going on in the distance.

the Bros despite knowing he can't hear them are all egging him on trying to encourage him to go but after young Branch looks down.

and has an upset and seemingly frustrated expression after a little internal battle as despite clearly wanting to go join the others he can't bring himself to take the risk.

and he throws the present across the other side of the room and walks back to his room in the bunker.

disappointing his brothers and leaving them somewhat somber.

and the next memory could be of when Branch was still a pretty young kid and the Bunker was still in its early stages.

and maybe if we wanna go really over the top in the sad angst department 😭😭 we see little Branch sitting down at a table with multiple chairs having something to eat and we see he's written his brothers names on the other chairs.

saving spots for them for when they would come back and maybe he even has little pretend conversations with them telling them about everything he did that day like setting up their Hideout aka the Bunker.

ending the conversation with a sad little "" I Hope I see you soon ""

and I like to imagine Floyd eventually gets too emotional after seeing all this stuff and walks off on his own with either Bruce or Clay going after him on their own.

with Floyd telling them that he remembers what he would have been doing around this time all those years ago he was just out living it up getting wasted ( on sugar of course lol )

partying into the long hours of the night being a solo performer traveling around living as a carefree party animal.

the other brother tells him its somewhat pointless blaming himself now and they just need to focus on finding the parasite and saving Branch's life.

but still Floyd says he broke the promise he made before but he very determinedly says he isn't going to break another one to him ever again.

so they move on to the next memory which is little kid Branch finishing building Gary maybe commenting on how he'll never leave him and that he can't wait for him to meet his brothers.

further rubbing salt in the wounds for the Brothers but at this point they try and stay headstrong and keep on going in further and the next stop.

sees them at the Trolls tree their taken aback given the amount of years its been since they saw it this way and then they hear a sound and realise Apon looking up that its the sound of little Branch singing.

the Brothers all see Chef looming in the background and they then see their Grandma running towards Branch only for JD completely caught in the moment not thinking straight.

to start running up the Tree towards them as well their Grandma pushes Branch out of the way and JD just makes it to her only to helplessly phase through her.

as she's grabbed by Chef and they all watch as she's taken away what follows is somber moment of silence as they all realise exactly what Branch lived with all those years on his own.

and the Brothers have to watch the memory version of Branch succumb to Grief and lose his colours while they can't even try and comfort him.

after this they finally reach the final stop which isn't actually a memory its just Branch's Bunker with a grown up version of him inside it.

from here on I'm not exactly 100 percent sure what I'd want to happen or be said between them it can just be a nice little climax where this version is the actual present day Branch just trapped in his mind.

and he feels somewhat ashamed that his Brothers would have seen all these moments from his life but JD says he's sorry he had to live with that burden of watching what happened to their Grandma for so long on his own.

Bruce says he shouldn't have had to go through any of that on his own when he was so young and he wishes he'd have come back at any point as he would have taken him with him back to Vacay and he never would have been alone again.

Clay says that he wishes he'd told them some of this stuff himself when they all first met back up so they could have tried to better understand why he felt so hurt by them.

and Floyd simply gives him a Hug without really saying anything.

you could change the way each Bro zone member reacts if you want I'm not dead set on these reactions for them I just thought they were kinda cute.

anyway from here on its pretty simple they find the parasite it takes the forms of people it thinks will best rattle them based on its knowledge so it takes the form of Chef.

but this is a pretty daft move as the brothers just all proceed to kick its butt without any hesitation and after its beaten they all wake up from the sleep state.

but yeah has anyone done anything like this? as like I said I just started thinking about it last night and I couldn't get the idea out of my head as there's so much angst potential 😭😭😭😭

#trolls #trolls branch #trolls brozone #dreamworks trolls #trolls band together #branch #branch trolls #trolls dreamworks #brozone #trolls 3 #trolls branch angst #trolls bro zone angst #trolls fanfic ideas #Trolls #Trolls Branch #Trolls Bro zone

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n00bcat1234 · 3 months

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Happy (ahem, late) birthday to cccc!

Because of this, I'd like to do a theory I've wanted to do for months now

So, The Soul Eclectic

There are many things that make this Mind Electric cover stand out. Mind and Heart butting in on Soul's song, representing how he LITERALLY CAN'T GO 5 MINUTES WITHOUT THEM FIGHTING (which I found hilarious tbh), the Labriynth part at the end, and Whole's commentary at the end about him being on Soul's side of the dispute and wanting to die (💀). There are 2 things I want to talk about in particular, though.

1- The random glitches and cut-offs

On the surface, it's weird how Soul has glitches in his song, being that's usually Mind's thing, but when you look into it, it's actually clear what all of these cut-offs have in common. The song glitches every time Soul tries to say that he's Whole. You seem to forget, you answer to- (me). Here in my kingdom, I am your- (lord). To leave you parasites- (inside of me). He talks as if he's better than Heart and Mind, and as if he's actually Whole when he's really just his main controller. Furthermore, it doesn't seem like he can lie, being that when he tries to in this song, it glitches out. In other words, he's always right, which is why he can't side with one or the other.

2- The double voices

Most people hear Soul echoing in the song and don't think much of it, but I think this was very much on purpose. We've seen that Soul has both a light and dark side. While at some points it's more apparent, there's actually 2 Souls singing in the whole thing. Soul is truly double-sided. It's not just a design choice, it's a characteristic.

#chonny jash #cj soul #cccc #cccc soul #Yeah some overthinking went into this what of it

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eldritch-spouse · 7 months

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ok so this is a two’fer here;

1. do Lust demons spray like cats? like i feel like they do, feel it in m’bones.

2. how would your Icons (mainly Vesper, Zizz, and Kal) feel about a mate who’s really deep into witchcraft and the wiccan religion? i’d like to hear your thoughts on how they’d react to all the ‘strange’ spells and customs we do in wicca :D

(have a nice day pinnie and happy late birthday!!)

[Thenk you!! :'}]

TW: Joking mention of watersports.

1) Are- Are you asking me if they randomly just piss on things? Because. I mean. If that's your fetish many of them will probably humor it, but I don't think that's standard practice.

What Lust demons can and will do is effectively put their scent on you in many ways. Or simply permeate a room with their pheromones- Which they pump through specific areas, as opposed to spraying it like febreze.

That kind of depends. In all honesty, I don't feel well equipped to answer this because I'm not connected to those practices at all, so allow me to generalize.

Traditionally fiendish magic is very different from other types. Many of the Icons will express great interest in learning new practices, gouging your overall power, and making sure to suppress any procedures that can be used against infernal beings.

As usual, controlling you is their priority, praise and interest comes second to that.

Vesper is naturally very interested in the sexual uses your magic can have, though he's also simply a fan of watching you get into your own craft, often wondering if mixing your magic and his could make something altogether new.

Zizz is mostly worried with the toll such magics can take on you. Humans are the most magically adept beings, and although your chosen form of magical practice is not the most parasitic of them all, the Icon still discourages you from trying to perform some rituals.

If it doesn't cause great suffering, Kalymir won't bat an eye to your antics. Any sort of ritual that requires sacrificial practices or the handling of gore is definitely something the demonlord will want to watch you perform however.

#Zizz oc #Vesper oc #Kalymir oc #general tce

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egnidres · 1 year

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So that's the birthday present for @zu-is-here. Happy birthday again (๑•́ ω •̀๑)

✾❦

"Please," Cross pleaded.

His lavender tears flowed in torrents, unable to resist the urge to come out of their hiding place. They crashed into a part of his lover's shoulder, which was shaking with pain. Or maybe it was only the tremors of the former guard who was unable to calm his growing anxiety.

For his part, Dream was covered with apple blossoms, appearing at the ends of his gloves and long dark sleeves, like a cruel light in infinite darkness or a vain hope in total despair, which would eventually fade and break, taking everything with it. His eye sockets were not spared from these parasites, his left eye being destroyed by the liquid of the negative feelings that covered it and his right eye being devoured by the budding buds.

None of this should have worried or frightened Killer. Yet, his feelings were all about fear. He had always not cared about Dream or Cross, being only adversaries or shipmates before they became traitors. But strangely, without even being able to explain it, he was afraid of what would happen next, which he guessed would be worse than the twins' curse.

" I can't help you. You should leave now. "

Lying did not displease the skeleton, who always preferred to hide his true intentions, reasons and emotions. If they let them through, what would happen to Nightmare? Surely they would do nothing to destroy him at the time, so they could save the broken dream. But once done, they could very well eliminate the negative, being one of Dream's basic goals since his transformation. He was the only one who had taken him under his wing, who had never betrayed him, and who had always stood by him. He couldn't abandon him after all that had happened.

" Please let us through. We need to see Nightmare, we won't do anything against you, I promise. I'll do anything you want if you save him. "

The tearful man suppressed a grimace. Cross begging for their help, to the point of offering to do anything to get him... even in his wildest dreams he would never have thought it possible. Strangely, and without even knowing why, he felt bad to see him like this; going from a powerful and proud opponent, to a mere skeleton shaking and crying like a poor terrified little child.

"Let them pass, Killer," a voice behind him intervened.

He saw the former guardian moving toward his brother, and though he longed to hold him back, he did not. He had already made his decision, and despite all of Killer's arguments, he would not change his mind. He looked away, bending to his will.

"You remember where the rooms are, I guess. Take him to one of them. I'll go see him when he wakes up. "

The monochrome thanked his former boss, before leaving quickly. The one-eyed skeleton sighed before turning back to Killer, crossing his arms, his hands clutching the purple cloth.

" I already told you to let them pass."

" I didn't want you to be in danger, we didn't know if they would kill you as soon as they saw you."

" This story has been going on for over 500 years. It has to end, no matter what. Especially since I'm the one who started it all. "

Killer tucked his knife into his jacket pocket, before inhaling painfully, his throat tight. He knew that his boss was right, everything had to end now, but he didn't want it to be the way he wanted it, not with his sacrifice. So he proposed an idea that a part of his mind strangely repulsed:

"What if we end it differently than your idea. If you don't sacrifice yourself, it could very well be Dream who does. I mean, he's suffering because of the flowers growing on him, it would just be a favour to finish him off. And as far as I know he always wanted to save you, even if it meant putting himself in danger. "

" I'm disappointed in you for thinking that it can and should end like this. "

Nightmare seemed offended by his former subordinate's words, and decided to leave the room, walking away from him.

"To me, it's just as shocking as your idea of sacrificing yourself like that," he whispered into the now empty room.

Dream began to emerge from sleep, moving his head slightly. He knew he was no longer at home, and he could tell by his brother's feelings that he was in his brother's mansion. He tried to sit up when he felt something in his hand. Even though he couldn't see, he knew it was Cross' hand, which must have fallen asleep from all the stress of the last few days.

He waited quietly for his lover to wake up, enjoying the calmness of the monochrome's feelings, which had long since stopped being so peaceful. He moved his ring with his thumb, making it gently strike his knuckles, before changing direction. Cross began to wake up in turn, rising from the bed with a soft yawn. When he noticed that the other was up, he asked hastily:

" Are you comfortable? Do you want some more pillows or to sit up maybe? Or something else?"

"No, I'm fine, don't worry about it."

"Are you feeling better? Are you feeling less pain?"

" It's better. It's less painful than before."

The pain was there, throbbing, like someone having fun burning his bones in places while staying on them for a long time to make it worse. He wasn't desperately wanting and trying to tear them out like before, but it wasn't going away either. He took advantage of this moment of respite, if it could be called that, and talked about everything and nothing with his lover.

The latter reluctantly decided to leave him alone and get something to eat when his stomach and that of his lover protested. As he began to close the door, he saw Nightmare arrive silently, quietly asking if his brother was still asleep, lest he wake him by barging into the room. The monochrome smiled at him before answering in the negative, leaving the door open again, and leaving more serenely. The elder brother hesitated for a few moments before taking a deep breath and taking the first step into the room.

"Hello, Dream," he began.

"Relax a little," his brother reassured him.

" I'm perfectly relaxed."

The positive man seemed to look at him before smiling broadly and adding:

" I bet you have your arms crossed. You cross them all the time when you're uncomfortable or have too many feelings that bother you, as if you wanted to protect yourself with your arms as armour. I'm surprised you never use your tentacles like that."

"That's not true."

When he said this in an indignant voice, he uncrossed his arms and let them fall down his body, letting a discreet noise of moving clothes be heard. This action made his brother laugh, as he had heard and guessed his posture without any difficulty. Nightmare, for his part, moved closer to the bed before sitting down on the edge, beginning to knead his hands nervously.

"Is that all of Killer left? The others are gone," his brother asked.

" They've decided that their home worlds are probably not as bad as the end of this story is likely to be. I understand them, it's better, it ends well in some way for them. "

"And for you?"

"... It's better for everyone."

It didn't matter how he felt, not when he had been so horrible and manipulative to them. He'd been lucky that none of them had tried to kill him, and that Killer had decided to stay. He'd felt the latter's feelings; fear at seeing his boss's partly cracked face, incomprehension at the other skeletons' choice, only to end in a more neutral, deeper feeling. He wasn't so stupid as to not know what that feeling was, let alone to know that it wasn't like when he controlled his soul like a pawn.

He was not in control of anything, and that terrified him. But was he in control of anything at all? Before his transformation, he was just a victim unable to protect himself, mistreated by the villagers and the fate that was bearing down on him. When he had eaten most of the apples on the tree, he had promised himself that he would never be a victim of that fate again. He would destroy anyone who dared to take him back to that state or who knew nothing of the pain he had felt and continued to feel.

His brother was the first to try to " recover " him. It was at this point that he was most angry with him. He didn't understand, he couldn't understand, and that made him mad as hell. He had wanted to break that hope, not his brother. But he hadn't noticed that it was the other feelings of positivity that he had destroyed without any consideration.

He didn't notice his unhappiness, or rather he didn't want to notice it. He just wanted to control everything so he would never be the victim again. But instead, he had let his brother eat the black apple, he had let him suffer to his breaking point without any consideration for him, and he had given up and decided to run away when he had changed. Just as he had tried to escape this situation 500 years ago with the ebony apples.

"Night, calm down!"

His brother tentatively grabbed his wrist, pulling his hands away from each other. He hadn't noticed that his breathing had become more and more laboured, nor that he had scratched his palms and the backs of his hands to blood. It took him a long time to regain a steady breath, his hands shaking helplessly. When he managed to calm down, he stammered:

" I'm sorry for everything. It's my fault you're in this state. I'm the one who ate the first apple, I'm the one who destroyed your feelings and convictions without any remorse. It's my fault that you felt the need to see what I was feeling so that you could understand and help me. I don't even know how to save you from what's happening to you. I really am the worst big brother."

" Don't blame yourself for this, it's not your fault. I'm the one who made the choice and did it. And we were just kids at the time, you can't blame yourself for trying to change things. Especially since I should have seen your discomfort too. The main thing is not all the bad things we did, but how we try to change things for the better."

" ...These flowers are connected to your positive and negative feelings," Nightmare reminded, trying to change the conversation. "Both of them are trying to regain control in some way, so in order to stop all that, you have to stop their war of dominance. My negative feelings can decrease your negative feelings or increase them depending on what you want or need, until you can process them normally. I will take care of the excess negative feelings, but we have to find a way to destroy the negative effects of the black apple."

" We'll do it, don't worry."

The ex guard went into the kitchen, trying to think of what would be good for his lover, hesitating between a hot meal, or a lighter one. Both had their advantages, but he couldn't put a simple decision on it.

"So, have you finally decided to come here? Or maybe he ordered you to leave because he was tired of seeing you around."

The razor-sharp words and Killer's dark smile effectively hit their target: Cross. The latter seemed to tense up, his jaw tensing and his knuckles digging into his palms.

"Why won't you leave me alone? I didn't do anything to you."

"You didn't do anything? You're starting to have the same memory as Ink. Or maybe you're so stupid that even she decided to leave."

" What are you after? Always provoking you will eventually get the backlash. And for what? Just to piss off the world, to reach the limit, and to see the anger in the eyes of those you piss off. The Killer I knew knew where to stop at least."

Killer's sadistic laughter echoed around the room, before calming down, leaving only a sneer stretching his lips.

" The Killer you knew? But you never knew him. You never knew me. And do you know why? Because all you've ever cared about is yourself. Only YOU, only YOUR emotions, only YOUR wishes are important to you. No one is ever interesting enough for you to care about. You're just selfish."

Tears appeared in the corners of Cross's eye sockets, unobtrusive, but glistening slightly in the light of the sunny day. The skeleton with the ringed soul drew closer before adding:

"Aww, the guard who considered himself powerful and able to solve all problems by himself is crying. Do you want a handkerchief maybe? Such a shame I don't have one, don't you think? You know what they call people like you? Self-centred. Just like Error, you're no better than him. But if I understand correctly you inherited it from your Gaster. We can't expect you to be different, after all, like father like son."

The monochrome slammed him hard against the wall, his forearm latching onto the other skeleton's windpipe, exerting a pressure that was oddly mild compared to his anger. His pupils were now just two red balls, and his cheeks were covered in the same dark tears as the tearful one. The latter was not the least bit frightened or impressed, his smile stretching even further.

"What are you waiting for ? You want to hit me, I can see it a mile away. Come on punch, you know it feels good, you've felt it before when slaughtering people from other universes. Eh. And then it's self-proclaimed guard. So pathetic.

"All you want to do is destroy the people closest to you, opposed Cross. You say I'm self-centred, but you're no better. All you care about is the pleasure you get from the pain you cause them. You just need to hurt them to feel like you don't care and that your actions mattered to someone for once. You just need to feel like you exist because of all the new words and actions you do, regardless of anyone else. You just need-"

"I just needed you. I just needed you to stay or tell me to my face why you decided to leave. I needed to understand what had gone so wrong."

Killer's scream echoed around the room, startling them both. He didn't want to give him that confession, he didn't want to show how weak he'd been for giving Cross his trust. He didn't want to show how hurt he had been by his abandonment. Yet his aching soul had decided otherwise, as if the other skeleton's words had cut him thin and deep, when he wasn't supposed to care about his opinion. Why hadn't he managed to make fun of it as usual?

" Killer," Cross tried.

His interlocutor pushed him with all his strength, making him almost lose his balance, having to step back to avoid falling. Taking advantage of his distance, he left quickly, not wanting to face him anymore. He was tired of his feelings taking over. He was tired of not being able to not care about everything around him like he used to. He was tired of not understanding the mess that was his feelings.

He went into his room, closing the door as quickly as possible as if he was afraid the other had followed him. He moved towards the door of his bathroom, only to stop when one of his two cats came towards him, already demanding to be petted. At his cat's silent command, he sat quietly cross-legged on the floor, letting it settle comfortably on his legs.

His soul was deformed, so much so that one could hardly differentiate white from red. He hadn't even noticed that his black tears had started to flow when he was in the kitchen, and had remained even now, though they created a much smaller wake. He tried to find the other cat with his eyes, and saw it on his bed, sleeping peacefully.

Soft sounds were heard against the door, and thinking it was Cross, he decided not to answer, not wanting to see him at all. He knew that Cross would try to talk to him about what he had said, wanting to understand and help him. But he was not yet ready to show that part of himself. Not with him. The door opened quietly, revealing Nightmare. He sat down next to the other cat, making it move in its sleep.

" I told him to go back to my brother and give him his food. "

He knew who he was talking about, suspecting that Cross had discussed it with him, probably for fear of having done something wrong that he already regretted. A spike of pain struck his soul, which aware of the pain he had done to the monochrome suddenly twisted more than it had before. He didn't want to hurt him or make him regret his decision. After all, he had seen him with Dream before his corruption. He'd seen him happy and even though it had hurt him to not be the source of his happiness, he'd been glad to see him like this.

Nightmare sighed before moving closer to him and crouching down in front of him. He wiped away his former subordinate's tears with his sleeve, staining it black, before gently declaring:

"You don't need to feel so much guilt. If you really regret what you tell to him, you just have to talk to him, but you also have to stop repressing your emotions. Your soul will always hurt you because of it. Talk to him and talk to Dream, things that stay on your heart are not good things. "

Then he left, leaving him to think about it quietly. He went to his brother's room, before entering it and asking to speak to the monochrome, who reluctantly accepted, following him into the living room, which was one of the closest rooms.

Killer walked out of his room, before heading to the room where the positive was. He entered the room, surprised at the absence of the monochrome, before slumping down on the seat the latter had set up. He began to play with his knife, occupying his hands and trying not to feel all the feelings that were flooding into him, trying to annihilate them as much as possible.

" Hi Killer."

Dream's calm voice rose, deeper than before his transformation and filled with hidden pain. The maudlin man smiled his usual fake smile, before standing up and pointing his weapon at the other skeleton, touching the latter's throat but making no move to hurt him. He looked at it, feeling as calm as if he were standing in front of a fire in a fireplace, listening to the sound of the crackling flames and watching their controlled dance. Strangely, the knife began to tremble and slowly lower. Sadness was the first feeling he felt at that moment. Then anger and resentment. It was not directed at the gardian, but at himself. He didn't understand why, but for the first time in years, he felt pity for him and was unable to do what he wanted to do. He just wanted it all to change, but part of his soul was looking forward to it. Part of his soul didn't want to kill him.

" Why do I hesitate? Why didn't I dare do this? We haven't found a way to save you yet. It would just be doing you a favor. You wouldn't suffer anymore, and yet I can't. "

" Sometimes it's the choices that feel right that hurt the most. You've changed, Killer. You are able to feel compassion again, you are able to feel emotions again. You may not be able to understand or process them all yet, but you will one day. "

" What makes you think I won't kill you? I hesitated to kill my brother once, and yet I did it. What makes you think I won't do the same to you? "

" Your feelings tell me. I'm glad at least I could see the change in you. I know that one day you'll be able to heal all your wounds, even if it takes time. "

The blind man's sincere and radiant smile finally got the better of his interlocutor. The latter lowered his weapon completely, his tears flowed abundantly, black in his right eye socket, and translucent on the left, where his white pupil was visible. He added in a broken voice:

" I don't want to kill you, but I don't want to see you suffer either. I'm just an idiot."

" It's okay. Everything is going to be okay. "

As he said these words, the positive took the other skeleton's hand. The latter sat down on the bed and hugged him, unable to control his sobs. Dream returned his embrace, his flower-covered eye socket flooded with tears.

The other two skeletons, Cross and Nightmare, looked on, their throats tight. As complicated as it had been for both of them, especially for the monochrome, they had let Killer do as he pleased, not entirely sure if he would decide to spare him.

Several days passed, the twins tried to calm the growth of the flowers with the negativity of the elder, taking as much as possible from his brother. At first, the result was inconclusive, if not the opposite. The flowers didn't grow anymore, but the ones already there burned even more Dream, to the point that Cross begged the negative to stop in the face of his lover's screams of pain, starting to threaten him when he didn't stop. Killer had reacted at this point, quickly pulling him away.

When he had finished, Dream had noticed that the pain had dropped drastically, as if it had returned to where it had started, as if it were a slight burn. Then after a few days, they noticed that no more plants were growing. The ones that were left gradually began to wither, and one by one they began to fall off, taking the pain with them.

The negativity flowed away as well, due to the guardian now being able to deal with his negative feelings better, leaving his left eye socket cracked and visible. His right eye socket was cleared of parasites, his pupil no longer able to see properly from a distance.

Killer avoided Cross as much as possible, not wanting to talk about what was on his mind. Or rather, not being able to put words to it. But his friend's efforts to reassure him gradually began to bear fruit. He wasn't yet at the point where he could trust him with his soul like he had with Nightmare, but he was getting better at not trying to hurt him with his words whenever he tried to find out how he was or wanted time with him.

Even though Nightmare was trying to keep everyone away from him at times, probably because of his negative feelings or because of his remorse, he was glad that the people most important to him had decided to stay close to him.

✾❦

— Pitié, implora Cross.

Ses larmes lavandes coulaient à torrent, incapable de résister à cette envie de sortir de leur cachette. Elles se fracassèrent sur une partie de l’épaule de son amant, qui tremblait de douleur. Ou peut-être était-ce seulement les tremblements de l’ancien garde qui était incapable de calmer son anxiété croissante.

Dream quant à lui, était recouvert de fleurs de pommier, apparaissant aux extrémités de ses gants et ses longues manches sombres, comme une cruelle lumière dans des ténèbres infinies ou un espoir vain dans le désespoir le plus total, qui finirait par s’éteindre et se briser, emportant tout dans son fracas. Ses orbites n’étaient pas épargnées de ces parasites, son œil gauche étant détruit par le liquide des sentiments négatifs qui le recouvrer et son œil droit dévoré par les bourgeons naissants.

Rien de tout ça aurait dû inquiéter ou effrayer Killer. Pourtant, ses sentiments n’étaient tournés que sur la peur. Il s’était toujours moquer de Dream ou Cross, n’étant que des adversaires ou des compagnons de bord avant de devenir des traîtres. Mais bizarrement, sans même pouvoir l’expliquer, il avait peur de la suite qu’il devinait être pire que la malédiction des jumeaux.

— Je ne peux pas vous aider. Vous devriez partir maintenant.

Mentir ne déplaisait pas au squelette, qui préférait toujours cacher ses véritables intentions, raisons et émotions. S’ils les laissaient passer, qu’adviendra-t-il de Nightmare ? Ils ne feront sûrement rien pour le détruire sur le moment, pour pouvoir sauver le rêve brisé. Mais une fois fait, ils pourraient très bien éliminer le négatif, étant l’un des objectifs de base de Dream depuis sa transformation. Il était le seul à l’avoir pris sous son aile, à ne l’avoir jamais trahi, et à être toujours rester à ses côtés. Il ne pouvait pas l’abandonner à son tour après tout ce qui s’était passer.

— S’il te plaît laisse-nous passer. On a besoin de voir Nightmare, on ne fera rien contre vous, je te le promets. Je ferais tout ce que vous désirez si vous le sauver.

Le larmoyant réprima une grimace. Cross qui implorait leur aide, au point de proposer de faire n’importe quoi pour l’avoir… même dans ses rêves les plus fous il n’aurait jamais pensé ça possible. Bizarrement, et sans même pouvoir savoir pourquoi, il se sentait mal de le voir comme ça ; passer d’un adversaire puissant et fier, à un simple squelette tremblant et pleurant comme un pauvre petit enfant terrifié.

— Laisse-les passer Killer, intervint une voix derrière lui.

Il vit l’ancien gardien se dirigeait vers son frère, et même s’il désirait ardemment le retenir, il n’en fis rien. Il avait déjà pris sa décision, et malgré tout les arguments de Killer, il ne changeait pas d’avis. Il détourna son regard, se pliant à sa volonté.

— Tu te souviens où sont les chambres je suppose. Emmène le dans l’une d’elle. J’irai le voir lorsqu’il sera réveiller.

Le monochrome remercia son ancien boss, avant de partir rapidement. Le squelette borgne quant à lui soupira avant de se retourner vers Killer, croisant ses bras, ses mains serrant le tissu violet.

— Je t’avais déjà dit de les laissait passer.

— Je ne voulais pas que tu soit en danger, on ne savait pas s’ils n’allaient pas te tuer dès qu’ils te verraient.

— Cette histoire dure depuis plus de 500 ans. Il faut qu’elle se termine, peu importe comment. D’autant plus que c’est par ma faute que tout cela a commencé.

Killer rangea son couteau dans la poche de son blouson, avant d’inspirer douloureusement, sa gorge serré. Il savait que son boss avait raison, tout devait se terminer maintenant, mais il ne voulait pas que se soit comme il le voulait, pas avec son sacrifice. Alors il proposa une idée qu’une partie de son esprit répugnait étrangement :

— Et si on la terminait autrement que ton idée. Si tu ne te sacrifie pas, ça pourrait très bien être Dream qui le fais. Je veux dire, il souffre à cause de ses fleurs qui pousse sur lui, ce serait juste lui rendre service de l’achever. Et à ce que je sache il a toujours voulu te sauver, quitte à se mettre en danger pour ça.

— Tu me déçois de penser que ça peux et dois se terminer comme ça.

Nightmare sembla offusqué par les paroles de son ancien subordonné, et décida de partir de la pièce, s’éloignant de lui.

— Pour moi, c’est tout aussi choquant que ton idée de te sacrifier comme ça, chuchota-t-il dans la pièce dorénavant vide.

Dream commença à émerger du sommeil, bougeant légèrement la tête. Il savait qu’il n’était plus chez lui, et il pouvait savoir grâce aux sentiments de son frère qu’il était dans le manoir de ce dernier. Il tenta de se redresser quand il senti qu’il tenait quelque chose dans la main. Même s’il ne pouvait pas voir, il savait que c’était la main de Cross, qui avait dû s’assoupir à cause de tout le stress des derniers jours accumulé.

Il attendit tranquillement que son amant se réveille, profitant du calme des sentiments du monochrome, qui avait depuis longtemps arrêté d’être aussi apaisé. Il bougea sa bague avec son pouce, la faisant doucement heurter ses phalanges, avant de changer de sens. Cross commença à se réveiller à son tour, se relevant du lit en bayant doucement. Lorsqu’il remarqua que l’autre était debout, il demanda précipitamment :

— Est-ce que tu es bien installé ? Tu veux un peu plus d’oreillers ou te redresser peut-être ? Ou quelque chose d’autre ?

— Non, ça va ne t’en fais pas.

— Est-ce que tu vas mieux ? Tu as moins mal ?

— Ça va mieux. C’est moins douloureux que tout à l’heure.

La douleur était là, lancinante, comme quelqu’un s’amusant à brûler ses os par endroit tout en restant longtemps dessus pour aggraver son ressenti. Il n’en était pas à vouloir et essayer absolument de les arracher comme tout à l’heure, mais elle ne partait pas non plus. Il profitait de ce moment de répit, si on pouvait l’appeler ainsi, et parla de tout et de rien avec son amant.

Ce dernier décida à contre-coeur de le laisser seul et de chercher à manger lorsque son estomac et celui de son amant protestèrent. Lorsqu’il commença à fermer la porte, il vit Nightmare arriver silencieusement, demandant doucement si son frère dormait encore, de peur de le réveiller en faisant irruption dans la chambre. Le monochrome lui sourit avant de lui répondre à la négative, laissant de nouveau la porte ouverte, et de partir plus serein. L’aîné, quant à lui, hésita quelques instants avant de prendre une grande inspiration en faisant le premier pas dans la pièce.

— Bonjour Dream, commença-t-il.

— Détend-toi un peu, le rassura son frère.

— Je suis parfaitement détendu.

Le positif sembla le regarder avant de sourire de toutes ses dents en ajoutant :

— Tu as les bras croisés je pari. Tu les croises tout le temps quand tu es mal à l’aise ou que tu ressens trop de sentiments qui te dérange, comme si tu voulais te protéger avec tes bras comme armure. Ça m’étonne d’ailleurs que tu n’es jamais utilisé tes tentacules de cet manière.

— C’est pas vrai.

Lorsqu’il prononça ses paroles d’une voix offensée, il décroisa les bras les laissant retomber le long de son corps, laissant entendre un discret bruit de vêtement en mouvement. Cet action fit rigoler son frère, qui avait très bien entendu et deviné sa posture sans aucune difficulté. Nightmare, quant à lui, se rapprocha du lit avant de s’assoir sur le bord, commençant à malaxait nerveusement ses mains.

— Il ne reste plus que Killer ? Les autres sont partis, demanda son frère.

— Ils ont décidé que leurs univers de base était sûrement moins pire que ce que risquait d’être la fin de cette histoire. Je les comprends, c’est mieux, ça se termine bien d’une certaine manière pour eux.

— Et pour toi ?

— … C’est mieux pour tout le monde.

Son ressenti n’avait pas d’importance, pas quand il avait été aussi horrible et manipulateur envers eux. Il avait été chanceux qu’aucun d’eux n’essaye de le tuer, et que Killer décide de rester. Il avait ressenti les sentiments de ce dernier ; de la peur en voyant le visage en parti fissuré de son boss, l’incompréhension du choix des autres squelettes, pour ensuite se terminer en un sentiment plus neutre, plus profond. Il n’était pas idiot au point de ne pas savoir ce que ce sentiment était, et encore moins pour savoir que se n’était pas comme quand il contrôlait son âme comme un pion.

Il ne contrôlait plus rien, et cela le terrifiait. Mais est-ce qu’il contrôlait quelque chose de base ? Avant sa transformation, il étais juste une victime incapable de se protéger, maltraiter par les villageois et le destin qui s’acharner sur lui. Quand il avait mangé presque toutes les pommes de l’arbre, il s’était juré ne plus jamais être la victime de ce destin. Il allait détruire toutes les personnes qui oserait le ramener à cet état ou qui ne connaissais rien à la douleur qui avait ressenti et continuait de ressentir.

Son frère fut le premier à essayer de le « retrouver ». C’est à ce moment-là qu’il lui en avait le plus voulu. Il ne comprenait pas, il ne pouvait pas comprendre, et ça l’énervait au plus haut point. Il avait voulu briser cet espoir, pas son frère. Mais il n’avait pas remarquer que c’était les autres sentiments du positif qu’il avait détruit sans aucune considération.

Il n’avait pas remarquer son mal-être, ou plutôt il n’avait pas voulu le remarquer. Il voulait juste tout contrôler pour ne plus jamais être la victime. Mais au lieu de ça, il avait laisser son frère manger la pomme noire, il l’avait laisser souffrir jusqu’à son point de rupture sans aucune considération pour lui, et il avait laisser tomber en décidant de fuir quand il avait changé. Exactement comme il avait essayer de fuir cet situation il y a de 500 ans avec les pommes ébènes.

— Night calme-toi !

Son frère lui pris à tâtons le poignet, éloignant ses mains l’une de l’autre. Il n’avait pas remarquer que sa respiration était devenue de plus en plus saccadée, ni qu’il s’était griffait à sang ses paumes et le dos de ses mains. Il prit un temps considérable à reprendre une respiration stable, ses mains tremblantes sans qu’il puisse les calmer. Lorsqu’il arriva à se calmer, il bredouilla :

— Je suis désolé pour tout. C’est de ma faute si tu es dans cet état. C’est moi qui ai mangé la première pomme, c’est moi qui ai détruit tes sentiments et convictions sans aucun remord. C’est de ma faute si tu as ressenti le besoin de voir ce que je ressentais pour pouvoir me comprendre et m’aider. Je ne sais même pas comment faire pour te sauver de ce qui t’arrives. Je suis vraiment le pire des grands frères.

— Ne te blâme pas pour ça, ce n’est pas de ta faute. C’est moi qui est pris ce choix et qui l’ai fais. Et nous étions que des enfants à l’époque tu ne peux pas t’en vouloir d’avoir essayer de changer les choses. D’autant plus que j’aurais aussi dû voir ton mal-être. Le principal ce n’est pas toutes les mauvaises actions qu’on a fait, mais comment nous essayons de changer les choses pour le mieux.

— …Ses fleurs sont reliés à tes sentiments positifs et négatifs, rappela Nightmare en essayant de changer de conversation. Les deux essaient de reprendre le contrôle d’une certaine manière, alors pour pouvoir arrêter tous cela, il faut pouvoir arrêter leur guerre de dominance. Mes sentiments négatifs peuvent diminuer tes sentiments négatifs ou les augmenter selon ce que tu désires ou selon ce que tu as besoin, jusqu’à ce que tu puisse les assimiler normalement. Je m’occuperai du surplus de sentiments négatifs, mais il faut qu’on trouve un moyen détruire les effets néfastes de la pomme noire.

— On y arrivera, ne t’en fais pas.

L’ancien garde rentra dans la cuisine, essayant de réfléchir à ce qui pourrait être bien pour son amant, hésitant entre un repas chaud, ou un repas plus léger. Les deux avait des avantages, mais il ne n’arrivait pas à mettre une simple décision dessus.

— Alors, tu as enfin décider de venir ici ? Ou alors il t’as peut-être ordonner de partir parce qu’il en avait marre de te voir autour de lui.

Les mots aussi tranchants qu’un rasoir accompagné du sourire sombre de Killer frappèrent avec efficacité sa cible : Cross. Ce dernier semblait se tendre, sa mâchoire se crispant, de même que ses phalanges qui se plantèrent dans ses paumes.

— Pourquoi tu ne me laisse pas tranquille. Je ne t’ai rien fais.

— Tu n’as rien fais ? Tu commence à avoir la même mémoire qu’Ink dis donc. Ou peut-être que tu es tellement stupide que même elle a décider de se barrer.

— Tu cherche quoi ? À toujours provoquer tu vas finir par avoir le retour du bâton. Et tout ça pour quoi ? Juste pour faire chier le monde, atteindre les limites, et voir la colère dans les yeux de ceux que tu emmerde. Le Killer que je connaissais savait où s’arrêter au moins.

Le rire sadique de Killer s’éleva dans la pièce, avant de se calmer, ne laissant qu’un rictus étiré ses lèvres.

— Le Killer que tu connaissais ? Mais tu ne l’a jamais connu. Tu ne m’as jamais connu. Et tu sais pourquoi ? Parce que ce qui t’as toujours intéressé est ta petite personne. Seulement TOI, seulement TES émotions, seulement TES souhaits ont de l’importance à tes yeux. Personne n’est jamais assez intéressant pour que tu puisse t’y intéresser. Tu n’es qu’un égoïste.

Des larmes apparaissaient aux coins des orbites de Cross, discrètes, mais brillant légèrement à la lumière de la journée ensoleillée. Le squelette à l’âme cerclée se rapprocha avant d’ajouter :

— Aww, le garde qui se considérait comme puissant et capable de résoudre tout les problèmes par lui-même pleure. Tu veux un mouchoir peut-être ? Tellement dommage que j’en ai pas, tu ne trouve pas ? Tu sais comment on appelle les personnes comme toi ? Des égocentriques. Juste comme Error, tu vaux pas mieux que lui. Mais si j’ai bien compris tu l’as hérité de ton Gaster. On peut pas te demander d’être différent, après tout, tel père tel fils.

Le monochrome le plaqua violemment contre le mur, son avant-bras se logeant contre la trachée de l’autre squelette, exerçant une pression bizarrement assez légère par rapport à sa colère. Ses pupilles n’étais plus que deux billes rouges, et ses joues étaient recouvert des mêmes larmes sombres que le larmoyant. Ce dernier n’était pas le moins du monde effrayé ou impressionné, son sourire s’étirant encore plus.

— Qu’est-ce que tu attends, tu as envie de me frapper, ça se voit à des kilomètres. Allez frappe, tu sais que ça fais du bien, tu l’as déjà ressenti en massacrant les personnes d’autres univers. Hé. Et après ça s’auto-proclame garde. Tellement pathétique.

— Tout ce que tu cherche, c’est de détruire les personnes proche de toi, contra Cross. Tu dis que je suis égocentrique, mais tu n’es pas mieux. Tout ce qui t’intéresse est le plaisir que te procure la souffrance que tu leur causes. Tu as juste besoin de les blesser pour avoir l’impression que tu te fiche de tout et que tes actions ont eu de l’importance sur quelqu’un pour une fois. Tu as juste besoin de te sentir exister grâce à toutes ces paroles et ces actions nouvelles que tu fais, sans considération pour quiconque. Tu as juste besoin-

— J’avais juste besoin de toi. J’avais juste besoin que tu reste ou tu me dises en face pourquoi tu avais décidé de partir. J’avais besoin de comprendre ce qui avait aussi mal tourné.

Le cri de Killer s’éleva dans toute la pièce, les surprenant tout les deux. Il ne voulais pas lui faire ses aveux-là, il ne voulais pas montrer à quelle point il avais été faible d’avoir donner sa confiance à Cross. Il ne voulait pas montrer à quel point il avait été blesser par son abandon. Pourtant son âme douloureuse en avait décidé autrement, comme si les paroles de l’autre squelette l’avais finement et profondément coupée, alors qu’il étais supposé se ficher de son avis. Pourquoi n’avait-il pas réussi à s’en moquer comme à son habitude ?

— Killer, tenta Cross.

Son interlocuteur le poussa de toute ses forces, le faisant presque perdre l’équilibre, devant reculer pour ne pas tomber. Profitant de sa distance, il partit rapidement, ne voulant plus lui faire face. Il en avait marre de ses sentiments qui prenait le dessus. Il en avait marre de ne plus réussir à se moquer de tout ce qui l’entourait comme avant. Il en avait marre de ne pas comprendre tout ce bordel qu’était ses sentiments.

Killer rentra dans sa chambre, fermant la porte le plus rapidement possible comme s’il avait peur que l’autre l’aies suivi. Il se rapprocha de la porte de sa salle de bain, avant de s’arrêter lorsque l’un de ses deux chats arriva vers lui, réclamant déjà des caresses. Devant l’ordre silencieux de son animal, il s’assit tranquillement en tailleur au sol, le laissant s’installer confortablement sur ses jambes.

Son âme était difforme, à telle point que l’on ne pouvait presque plus distinguer le blanc du rouge. Il n’avais même remarquer que ses larmes noires avaient commencé à couler lorsqu’il était dans la cuisine, et qu’elles étaient restées encore maintenant, même si elles créaient un sillage beaucoup moins important. Il essaya de trouver l’autre chat du regard, et le vit sur son lit, en train de dormir paisiblement.

Des sons discrets se fis entendre contre la porte, et croyant que c’était Cross, il décida de ne pas répondre, le voulant plus du tout le voir. Il savait que ce dernier essayerait de lui parler de se qu’il avait dit, voulant le comprendre et l’aider. Mais lui n’était pas encore prêt à montrer cette partie de lui-même. Pas avec lui. La porte s’ouvrît discrètement, révélant Nightmare. Il s’assit à côté de l’autre chat, le faisant bouger dans son sommeil.

— Je lui ai dit de retourner voir mon frère et de lui donner son repas.

Il savait de qui il parlait, se doutant que Cross en aies discuter avec lui, sûrement de peur d’avoir fait quelque chose de mal qu’il regrettait déjà. Un pic de douleur frappa son âme, qui consciente du mal qu’il avait fait au monochrome s’était soudain tordu plus qu’elle ne l’était avant. Il ne voulait pas le blesser ou lui faire regretter sa décision. Après tout, il l’avait déjà vu avec Dream avant sa corruption. Il l’avait vu heureux et même si ça l’avait blesser de ne pas être la source de son bonheur, il avait été réjouis de le voir comme ça.

Nightmare soupira avant de se rapprocher de lui et de s’accroupir en face de lui. Il enleva les larmes de son ancien subordonné avec sa manche, la tâchant de noir, avant de doucement déclarer :

— Tu n’as pas besoin de ressentir autant de culpabilité. Si tu regrettes vraiment ce que tu lui as, tu as juste à lui en parler, mais tu dois aussi arrêter de refouler tes émotions. Ton âme te fera toujours souffrir à cause de ça. Parle-lui et parle à Dream, les choses qui reste sur le cœur ne sont pas de bonnes choses.

Puis il partit, le laissant réfléchir à tout cela tranquillement. Il se dirigea vers la chambre de son frère, avant d’y rentrait et de demander à parler au monochrome, qui accepta à contre cœur, le suivant dans le salon qui était une des pièce les plus proches.

Killer sortit de sa chambre, avant de se diriger vers la pièce où se trouvait le positif. Il entra dans la pièce, surpris par l'absence du monochrome, avant de s'affaler sur le siège que ce dernier avait installé. Il commença à jouer avec son couteau, occupant ses mains et essayer de ne pas ressentir tous les sentiments qui le submerger, essayant de les annihilés le plus possible.

— Bonjour Killer.

La voix calme de Dream s’éleva, plus grave qu’avant sa transformation et empli de douleur dissimulé. Le larmoyant souris avec son même sourire de façade habituelle, avant de se lever et de pointer son arme vers l’autre squelette, touchant la gorge de ce dernier mais ne faisant aucun mouvement pour le blesser. Il le regardait, avec cette impression qu’il était aussi calme que s’il restait devant le feu d’une cheminée, écoutant le bruit du crépitement des flammes et regardant leurs danses contrôlés. Étrangement, le couteau commença à trembler et à se baisser doucement.

La tristesse fus le premier sentiment qu’il ressentis à cet instant. Puis la colère et la rancoeur. Ce n’était pas tourné vers le gardien, mais envers lui-même. Il ne comprenait pas pourquoi, mais pour la première fois depuis des années, il ressentais de la pitié pour lui et était incapable de faire cet action qu’il désirait. Il voulait juste que tout ça change, mais une partie de son âme se réjouissait de ça. Une partie de son âme ne voulait pas tuer le gardien.

— Pourquoi j’hésite ? Pourquoi je n’ose pas faire ça ? On a trouvé aucun moyen de te sauver pour l’instant. Ce serait juste te rendre service. Tu ne souffrirais plus, et pourtant je n’y arrives pas.

— Parfois c’est les choix qui nous semble les plus juste qui nous font le plus mal. Tu as changé, Killer. Tu es capable de nouveau de ressentir de la compassion, tu es capable de nouveau de ressentir à nouveau des émotions. Tu as du mal à toutes les comprendre ou les assimiler pour l'instant, mais tu y arriveras un jour.

— Qu’est ce qui te fais dire que je ne vais pas te tuer ? J’ai déjà hésité pour tuer mon frère et pourtant je l’ai fais. Qu’est-ce qui te dis que je ne vais pas faire pareil avec toi ?

— Tes sentiments me le disent. Je suis heureux au moins d’avoir pus voir ce changement en toi. Je sais qu’un jour tu arriveras à panser toutes tes plaies, même si ça prendra du temps.

Le sourire sincère et radieux de l’aveugle finit par avoir raison de son interlocuteur. Ce dernier baissa entièrement son arme, ses larmes coulèrent abondamment, noires sur son orbite droite, et translucide à gauche, là où sa pupille blanche était visible. Il ajouta d’une voix brisée :

— Je ne veux pas te tuer, mais je ne veux pas te voir souffrir non plus. Je suis qu’un idiot.

— Ça va aller. Tout va bien se passer.

En disant ses mots, le positif pris la main de l’autre squelette. Ce dernier s’assit sur le lit, tout en le prenant dans les bras, incapable de contrôler ses sanglots. Dream lui rendit son étreinte, son orbite recouverte de fleurs étant inondée de larmes.

Les deux autres squelettes, Cross et Nightmare les regardaient, la gorge serrée. Même si cela avait été compliquer pour les deux, surtout pour le monochrome, ils avaient laisser Killer agir à sa guise, ne sachant pas totalement s’il déciderait de l’épargner.

Plusieurs jours passèrent, les jumeaux essayèrent de calmer la croissance des fleurs avec la négativité de l’ainé, prenant le plus possible celle de son frère. Au début, le résultat était peu concluant, pour ne pas dire l’inverse. Les fleurs ne poussait plus, mais celles déjà présentent brûlèrent encore plus Dream, au point que Cross supplie le négatif d’arrêter face aux cris de douleur de son amant, commençant à le menacer en voyant qu’il n’arrêtait pas. Killer avait réagis à ce moment, l’éloignant rapidement.

Lorsqu’il avait fini, Dream avait remarquer que la douleur avait drastiquement baissé, comme si elle était revenu au point de départ, comme de légères brûlures. Puis après quelques jours, ils avaient remarqué que plus aucune plantes ne pousser. Celles qui rester commencèrent petit à petit à flétrir, et à se détacher une par une, emportant la douleur avec elles.

Les écoulements de négativité partirent aussi, dû au gardien qui arrivait dorénavant à mieux gérer ses sentiments négatifs, laissant son orbite gauche fissurée visible. Son orbite droite, quand à elle fut débarrassée de ses parasites, sa pupille ne pouvant plus voir correctement de loin.

Killer évitait le plus possible Cross, ne voulant pas lui parler de qu’il avait sur le cœur. Ou plutôt n’arrivant pas à poser des mots dessus. Mais les efforts de son ami pour le rassurer commencèrent peu à peu à porter leur fruits. Il n’était pas encore au point de lui confier son âme comme avec Nightmare, mais il réussissait de plus en plus à ne plus essayer de le blesser avec ses paroles dès qu’il essayait de savoir comment il allait ou de vouloir du temps avec lui.

Même si Nightmare essayait par moment d’éloigner tout le monde de lui, sûrement à cause de ses sentiments négatifs ou à cause de ses remords, il était heureux que les personnes les plus importantes à ses yeux aient décidé de rester près de lui.

#undertale #nightmare #au #ua #cross #killer #dream #flowerfell dream #writing #ecriture

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