#love only being able to see people as good ir bad with no in between (:

[hashtagartistlife]

IR hunger games AU

pt 4/???

pt 1 | pt 2 | pt 3 | pt 4

bonus comics under the cut + some more exposition 

bonus cut 1: 

bonus cut 2: 

Recap of the story so far: yuzu gets picked as tribute for the hunger games. Ichigo manages to volunteer in her place. Rukia gets drawn to replace yuzu, and ichiruki end up being the tributes for district 12. 

Ichiruki then meet urahara, their mentor, on the train to the capitol. On this train they may or may not have a conversation regarding the fact that Rukia saved Ichigo’s life as kids, and that they have consequently been dancing around each other for years now. I reserve the right to add more to this section later. Either way, they are awkward at best and frosty at worst as they enter the capitol. 

At the capitol, they meet their stylists, uryuu and orihime. They are new stylists, who only graduated last year. This is their first official stylist job. This in itself is not that surprising, as district 12 was unpopular and often stuck with the inexperienced or not-quite-so-talented stylists. However, though uryuu and orihime are inexperienced, they are the furthest thing from untalented or unpopular - since they had been students, they have been somewhat of a rising star in the styling community. So, everyone is surprised when they both (separately) apply for the district 12 styling job, because they really could have had their pick. 

Ishihime were both born and raised in the capitol, but their childhoods were far from the lavish, glamorous lifestyle commonly associated with capitol citizens. If the capitol had a caste system (which they do — it’s just unspoken, is all), they would be on the bottom rung — orihime grew up under her brother in as close to poverty as what you can get in the capitol, dreaming of the glitz and glamour of the upper crust life. Ryuuken, meanwhile, is very rich, but for whatever reasons uryuu ran away from home young and has been surviving on his own since. The fact that they both clawed their way up the ranks to become hunger game stylists out of pure talent and tenacity was a novelty for everyone, and contributed to their rising stardom. 

Ishihime hadn’t met prior to their appointment as district 12 stylists, but they HAD heard of the other— it was a pleasant surprise to both of them that the other had also applied for the job. Though they only meet on the job, they click instantly and develop an easy working partnership to create a sensation with ichigo and rukia’s opening ceremony outfits. The outfits had a fire + ice theme, based on the fact that district 12 was a mining district (coal > fire, diamonds > ice). 

Orihime applied to the district 12 job because of Ichigo— she saw him volunteering for his sister on TV and maybe fell a little bit in love with him, with the idea of him— how romantic, how heroic of him, how noble to be able to volunteer for his sister like that— the same age as her, and so handsome, too, she wants to be by his side, she wants to help him, she wants to make sure he looks his best at the games so that he can maximise his chances of returning to his sister… as stated previously Orihime grew up entrenched in the capitol mindset so she is not yet aware of how fucked up the whole system is. Uryuu, meanwhile, nobody is particularly sure why he applied for the job… he said something trite about wanting to use his skills where it’s most needed, how he likes a challenge, but orihime wonders if that’s really all there is to it— outwardly, he’s the picture perfect new graduate, enthusiastic, happy, proud of his job— but there are moments when they are being applauded for their latest creations when she thinks his expression goes a little sour… it’s always fleeting and gone so fast that she can never be sure however 

Ichiruki, meanwhile, are the talk of the town. What with their stunning entrance at the opening ceremony and rukia’s public confession, all they have to do now is ride this wave of popularity all the way through the games for an easy win— unfortunately, they are both terribly bad at knowing how to manipulate this situation to their advantage. They both understand the gist of urahara’s plan — act like they’re falling in love— but neither of them understand WHY or HOW this will work. Why would the audience be invested in their falling in love? What exactly do they want to see? HOW do they act like they’re falling in love? (and, in Rukia’s case— how much of it should be pretend, how much of it is real?) 

Enter Rangiku, the previous district 12 stylist. She and gin grew up in one of the districts, both hating the games and the capitol, until one day at 14 yrs old, gin said to her ‘i’m gonna make it so that you don’t have to be afraid of your name being called at the reapings no more’, volunteered as tribute, won the games, and promptly disappeared from her life. 

Years later, rangiku sees gin on tv as the new host of the hunger games. She’s stunned and infuriated— she thought they both hates the capitol for what they did to the districts and now he’s WORKING for them? What the hell is he thinking? So rangiku packs up and moves to the capitol— her plan is to try to see him, to talk things out, surely there must be some kind of misunderstanding— but gin is all rich and famous now, and very heavily guarded, and she’s a nobody. There’s no way anyone will let her within ten feet of gin at all— so, rangiku decides she’s going to have to join the circus to talk to its head clown, and becomes a stylist. 

Unfortunately, even as a stylist, she can’t get a word to him edgewise— and she’s starting to suspect that maybe it’s not that she can’t get to him, but that gin is actively avoiding her. She COULD climb the ranks until he can no longer avoid her— she is very good at this stylist gig, much to her surprise— but she doesn’t have the heart to do the backstabbing and bribing necessary for that. She is constantly warring between ‘I cannot pour my talent into something this morally bankrupt’ and ‘but maybe if I do my best, I’ll give my district’s kids a fighting chance’. 

Eventually, by the time ichiruki step up, rangiku is so sick of having to dress kids up nicely for slaughter that she hands in her resignation, gives up on gin, and is getting ready to move back home to her district. That is, until she sees what an absolute record-breaker ichiruki are becoming, and start to hope again— that maybe, this year things will be different. That maybe, they will be different. That maybe, at least one of ‘her kids’ won’t go home in a coffin this year, will instead require outfits for a victory tour instead— a victory tour that is accompanied by their stylists… and the host. 

So, rangiku comes back in an unofficial capacity to help ichiruki refine their act a bit more. But with less than one month left till the games commence, will what they come up with be enough to carry them through the entire games? And, even if it does— what will happen if at the end of it all, the two people who remain are ichigo and rukia— when only one person gets to return home alive? 

Very unrelated point, but: ichigo apologised to rukia for grabbing her wrist post-tribute interview. Just wanted to clarify it is NOT alright to grab at people under any circumstances— ichigo did it in the heat of the moment, but when everything was cleared up he apologised for it. Had to mention this somewhere because it bothered me so much while drawing this installment— Ichigo you have NO room to be scolding the reporter for grabbing rukia, you did it not too long ago yourself! Having said that, that’s probably why he’s being very touchy about this— it was something that had been a sore point for him too very recently. 

To be continued! 

#bleach #ichiruki #bleach fanart #artist life #bleach art life #kurosaki ichigo #kuchiki rukia #hunger games au

[lepusrufus]

Double edged scalpel ch. 7

Ch.1 ch.2 ch.3 ch.4 ch.5 ch.6

Summary: in which Cassandra gets bullied and other sappy shenanigans

---

"Oh Nicole dear, so happy to see you again!" Duke's voice was cheerful as ever, tone masterfully crafted over years of being a businessman.

Nicole, taking small steps inside the ornate and now full of items room, greeted him with uncharacteristic giddiness.

"Duke! How's business?"

"Same as always, I'll be heading to Beneviento later tonight to deliver some tools for her," he took a long drag of his cigar and, noticing green eyes scanning over multiple items and said, "I also have your order."

With a childish grin on her face, she approached him, hands shuffling inside the small bag attached to her belt that all staff members had. She pulled out the money owed for her package and, in return, the Duke placed a decently sized box in her arms. With an oof she shifted it in a less precarious position, it's heavy contents seeming to plot against her small frame.

"Unfortunately I can't stay, duty calls. But thank you Duke."

"No worries, I do understand that your employers can be quite," he took another drag of his cigar, looking for the right word. "...demanding"

Nicole chuckled. That was one way to put it.

"Well until next time dear. Or if you find yourself in need of something else, I'll be here until six."

---

She was only wearing a long white towel when she heard a knock on the door. Assuming it was another maid, or even Anita inquiring about whether or not she'd be joining the rest of them for dinner, she opened the door just a crack.

It was a surprise to see none other than Cassandra standing there, her elegant frame in odd contrast with the modest corridor. She flung the door open, letting the brunette inside and took a quick glance down the hall, making sure no maid was on the floor after fainting due to fright.

"What are you doing here?"

"Aw, are you not happy to see me?" She was pouting, but her tone was joking.

Nicole rolled her eyes, but the small smile on her lips betrayed that she was indeed happy to see her. Cassandra only laughed instead, a beautiful melodious laugh, so unlike the dark cackles heard by prisoners down in the dungeons.

"Just sit down, I need to get dressed," Nicole pointed to the bed before moving to the small dresser and pulling out a clean uniform.

Cassandra went to sit on the slightly disheveled bed, eyes following the redhead's form as she let the towel drop to her feet and started to put on the various layers of her uniform. Then golden eyes darted to the box sitting on the bed. The tape sealing it had been cut not long after Nicole brought it back to her room to make sure all its contents made it safely. Not that she didn't trust the Duke, but postal service was postal service.

"What's this?" Cassandra inquired, trying to read the label but having no success as it had been scribbled over with a marker.

Nicole stilled for a moment, hands frozen on her white button up. She cleared her throat and shyly admitted:

"Actually that's for you. Do open it if you want."

Cassandra's eyes widened, a faint blush appearing on her cheeks. The gesture had really caught her off guard. She gingerly lifted the lid, inspecting it's contents for a moment and then hummed.

"And here I was thinking you like my hair. With how much you love to pull on it and all that."

Nicole, now fully clothed and sporting a deep blush, marched to her and plucked the two boxes of red hair dye from gloved hands. She placed them on her nightstand and, with her voice just slightly more high pitched, she turned to the brunette.

"Those are mine, I meant the rest of it." And, after a chuckle, "I mean have you seen my roots? They're horrible!"

Cassandra only gave her a deadpan look and, after a long moment, said: "I think your hair is beautiful."

She didn't wait for a reply, not that it would be anything more than a stammered mumble of course. Instead she chuckled and returned her attention to the box. She examined the rest of its contents and then gingerly lifted one of the few tomes inside. The cover was glossy and malleable, it's pages shiny and with a distinct typography smell to it. It was so unlike her other books, it's pristine white state making it feel extremely out of place in the castle. She glanced at Nicole inquisitively.

"I do appreciate the gift, don't misunderstand me, but surely you know there's a small bookshop's worth of medical books in this castle."

"With all due respect, from what I've seen most of them are at least somewhat outdated. Interesting, yes, but I thought you'd like to learn something more...modern." Then she pulled out another book. "This is the same one I used while studying forensic pathology. It would make teaching you some things easier. Uh… assuming you want that."

Nicole averted her gaze, suddenly unsure of the usefulness of her gift. Cassandra however grabbed her chin between two fingers and pulled her gaze back on her. She smiled, finding the shy demeanor beyond endearing.

"I'd love that."

A small smile appeared on thin lips and Nicole leaned in to kiss Cassandra. It was soft and short, but no less intimate than the deep kisses they shared so many times in Cassandra's bed.

They had to go anyway.

---

Let's go to the library, Cassandra said. It'll be empty, she said.

When Cassandra swung open the intricate door, only to find the other two sisters lounging on one of the couches, it's not like they could do a one eighty and leave the room. That would've been both impolite and highly suspicious.

Instead, Cassandra grabbed her arm protectively and led them to the reading spot farthest from the other two. They placed one of the textbooks on the small desk and Cassandra took out a notebook. This would've been a lot more fruitful with an actual body on hand, but there were still a couple days until the human flesh supply had to be replenished and Cassandra was beyond eager to start on some things. So, for now, they had to settle for theory alone.

It took all of five minutes for the other two sisters to make their way to their desk. Daniela had a giddy yet curious expression on her face, while Bela seemed as unreadable as ever, if not for a glint in her eyes that betrayed her interest.

"Whatcha dooooing?" Came Daniela's voice, who cocked her head not unlike a curious puppy would while looking at the book's contents.

"Working," Cassandra replied, a slight growl accompanying her words.

"Could've fooled me," Bela spoke from behind the youngest sister, eyeing the hand protectively placed on Nicole's waist.

Cassandra snapped her eyes at the blonde, looking ready to throw her notebook at her head but Bela ignored her sister's ire and addressed Nicole instead.

"What are you studying?"

"I uh- just some basic anatomy concepts. Thought it would be a good idea to start with the things that the older books in the castle don't cover."

Bela only hummed, grabbed an ornate chair nearby, and plopped herself at the desk, opposite from the pair. Daniela mimicked her sister, but instead chose to sit down right by Nicole on the small couch. It took more willpower than she would admit not to glue herself to Cassandra's side when Daniela's face came uncomfortably close so she could look over the book's diagrams. She stood still as a statue though. After a couple seconds of silence and Nicole trying to figure out what she was supposed to do, Daniela drew her head back, looking at her with what was possibly the most serious expression she had seen on the youngest sister.

"You do realize we're not going to hurt you right? How could we lay a finger on our dear sister's lover hmm?"

Nicole's breath caught in her throat. She wasn't sure if it was due to the word used to describe her or how Daniela apparently knew that she was utterly terrified of her. Cassandra sighed beside her and, seeming to at least partially read Nicole's thoughts, clarified:

"Your heartbeat."

Oh. Yeah. Yeah her heart was beating a million miles an hour. And apparently the other three vampiric occupants of the room were able to hear it loud and clear. It did very little to ease her mind.

"Please do calm down, it feels like someone is having drumming lessons. Bad ones," Bela complained, head resting in one of her hands like she was already bored.

"Then shove a sock in your ears," Cassandra snapped.

Bela simply leaned back in her seat and stretched her arms above her head. "And risk not hearing my beloved sisters sing along to some pop song?"

Cassandra shut her mouth, a blush now slowly spreading across her cheeks while Daniela burst out into laughter. Even Nicole couldn't help betraying the brunette and letting out a giggle.

"I didn't know you could sing."

"I can't."

"Au contraire dear Cassie! Should I remind you of the last time Dragostea din tei came on the radio? The pathos!" Daniela reached over Nicole's lap to lightly shake her sister's knee through her giggles.

Cassandra only let out a long groan, face now hidden in her palms. "I hate you both."

"Mhm, we love you too," came Bela's reply, accompanied by a chuckle.

Nicole couldn't keep a small laugh while she snaked her arm behind the brunette to show some form of support against the merciless assailants. Maybe not a complete betrayal.

The scene really had something deep within her heart aching beautifully. It reminded her of the countless times she and Alex would mercilessly tease each other, but still have each other's backs through thick and thin. And for this familiarity to come from people that any sane person would consider bloodthirsty monsters? Hell, maybe they should start considering her a monster too, for the only word she could use to describe them in that moment was endearing.

"So," Bela lightly clapped her gloved hands. "Now that your pulse isn't giving me a headache anymore, what are we doing?"

She had a confident smirk on her face, but her eyes betrayed curiosity. Same for Daniela and, although mixed with a hint of annoyance, Cassandra. She opened the book in front of her, one of general human anatomy, and decided that the digestive system would be a good enough starting point.

---

Their little impromptu lesson didn't last more than two hours. Two hours that proved to Nicole just how oddly human all three sisters can be. Of course she had gotten familiar with Cassandra, intimately so, but the other two still felt like two looming monsters hiding in the shadows. At least up until now.

Bela seemed oddly intrigued by Nicole's explanation, although unlike Cassandra, she seemed to view it more like a story than anything. Daniela seemed slightly more interested, asking questions here and there and even starting to giggle like a middle schooler when they got to the rectum section. That got an eye roll from the other two. Nicole just laughed, finally understanding Mrs Hawkins, her private biology teacher from before she was allowed to step foot in any public school.

After they were done, Bela simply stood up and bid them good night. Danila instead excitedly proposed the skeletal system for next time and picked up the books she abandoned earlier. Then, with a small tower of tomes she went through a door tucked at the very back of the room. Her study, Cassandra had pointed out as they made their way out of the library.

"I didn't know your sisters were interested in medicine too." Nicole kept her voice low, almost as if talking too loudly would disturb the shadowy hallways.

"More or less. Daniela likes it and has a bit of hands-on practice but she has her nose in romance novels more often than not. Bela finds it interesting but botany is what she really loves. That and classic lit." She added the last part with a grimace and Nicole had to wonder which author had offended her personally.

Before she could continue that train of thought though, her gaze moved to the windows, the cloudless sky beyond thick glass panels full of twinkling stars. Her mind kept going back to a few hours earlier and at what Daniela had said. Lover. Did Cassandra truly see her as one or was the youngest sister just being her over the top self. Did she see Cassandra this way? Nicole had not allowed herself to dwell on that up until now, the idea that the brunette saw her as more than an over glorified lab partner with whom she occasionally scratched an itch seemed almost laughable. But the small gestures of affection shown in ways Cassandra seemed to know best were undeniably there. And the familiar flutter in her chest at each of said gestures was also undeniably there.

"What's wrong?"

Cassandra's voice, accompanied by the slight echo through the empty hallway, snapped Nicole out of her thoughts.

"Oh um- nothing." She sounded as convincing as someone trying to sell you a fork while showing you a spoon.

And Cassandra didn't seem to buy it. She moved in front of the redhead, walking backwards with no concern over possible furniture to collide into along the way.

"You always get this… face when something's bothering you."

"I do not-" the indignation in her tone was weak, little more than an attempt to change the subject.

"Mhmm you do. You normally look focused. Kind of like, if someone tried to scare you by throwing an eyeball at you, you'd laugh." She would. "Now? Now you look like a rabbit that has no time to run and is just laying low hoping whatever's hunting it passes by."

Nicole shut up for a moment, only looking at the brunette in front of her incredulously. Maybe she was far more attentive than she gave her credit for.

"Uh. Just thinking." At a raised dark eyebrow, the no shit went unsaid, so Nicole tried to elaborate. "About earlier. When we were with your sisters and Daniela uh- Daniela called me your lover."

Saying that the words felt awkward on her tongue was close to the year's biggest understatement. It felt like pulling out teeth would be an easier task. Nicole had never been good with her words, having learned since childhood to keep her mouth shut. But the fact that Cassandra seemed to share her struggle brought some semblance of comfort.

"And?" As if they were talking about the weather.

"And… was she right in describing me as such?"

She couldn't help a small gulp when the brunette stopped walking, looking at her with a frown. Any sane person would be at the very least somewhat afraid in this situation. Sanity however was scarce these days as Nicole was afraid, though not of the bodily harm that may come from her inquiry, but rather of Cassandra's answer.

"Nicole, your tongue has been in my mouth." Amongst many other places.

The redhead's cheeks turned a slight shade of crimson and she mumbled for an answer. She wasn't sure how to tell her that sleeping together did not automatically make them lovers. But then again, Cassandra's thoughts remained a mystery more than anything.

Thankfully the brunette took the metaphorical reins of the conversation and stepped forward. She wrapped her hands around Nicole's arms, gentler than one would imagine possible from her, and bent down to whisper no more than an inch away from her ear.

"I'll have you know, I'm not particularly fond of letting anyone I don't deem important touch me. Especially not the way you do."

The words made something flutter in Nicole's chest, an unfamiliar and comforting warmth. Said warmth got chipped away at the slightest bit when Cassandra pulled back to look her in the eyes.

"Should I take it that it's not mutual then?" Cassandra's tone was nonchalant, almost as if she didn't truly care about the answer. She could keep doing whatever she wanted either way, afterall who was going to stop her? But to someone who got familiar with all her small quirks and habits, the waver in her voice was more than clear.

"No." The world slipped from her lips with no hesitation.

No hesitation, because the more she thought about it, and she didn't need to think a lot mind you, the more Nicole realized that she couldn't remember a time when she felt the way she did here. Sure the initial threat of death looming over her head was anything but pleasant, but once that melted into affection and nights spent in Cassandra's arms the thought of leaving didn't as much as graze her mind.

"No, no. It is," she repeated, more certainty making its way into her tone.

At that Cassandra smiled. A small, almost shy one would say if they knew her well enough, smile. Her shoulders seemed to lose some of their tension when she leaned down again, her lips stopping not even an inch away. Nicole wasted no time leaning forward, their mouths meeting in a kiss that mixed softness and need beautifully. Their lips slid against each other until, surprisingly, it was Cassandra to pull back and sigh.

"Come sleep, we have some cutting up to do in the morning."

Nicole frowned. "Tomorrow? Wasn't that supposed to be due in a few days?"

A devilish grin appeared on black lips, fangs shimmering ominously in the low light. "Bela caught a foolish man-thing sneaking around the forest on the castle grounds. She's really excited to turn this one into a nice steak."

The redhead only let out an oh in acknowledgement. Foolish indeed. At least they could finally put into practice a few autopsy tricks Nicole had been itching to show her.

She let herself be guided back to Cassandra's chambers and into her bed, that she had grown intimately familiar with. The last thing she felt before falling asleep was the brunette's cool skin, pressed against her own. A welcomed comfort among the myriad of soft pillows that surrounded them. Nicole wondered briefly if being undead meant it was hard to keep yourself warm, but the thought quickly slipped away as she fell into a dreamless sleep.

#cassandra dimitrescu x maiden #unhinged maiden™ my beloved #bela dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #double edged scalpel #fanfic #the dimitrescu daughters

[persimmonteas]

take a good look

4 times you gaze at him + 1 time he gazes at you

fic cowritten with @shinaus​, art by @annypuff​ <3. you can buy mel a coffee and anny a coffee. please support them! their work is banging and i love them 🥺 

pairing: vampire!shinso x f!reader

word count: ~4.5k

genre: slice of life fantasy (a tinge of coffee shop!AU), fluff, mutual pining, smut

cw: dom!shinso, size kink, daddy kink (inspired by toshi anon), praise kink, some degradation (he says slut 3x), fingerfucking, nipple play, choking, hair pulling, mirror sex, mating press, hickies everywhere, a cunt slap, overstimulation

first time: the coffee shop incident 

Of course your favorite coffee shop is swamped. This place is the only good thing about waking up close to dawn, with drinks always better than what your office has to offer and not to mention the pastries they make fresh.

Letting out a small groan, you decide to wait it out in the line and do your best to hurry with your breakfast before heading into work. Thankfully, you always leave yourself with enough time to actually sit and enjoy whatever you decide to buy that day, opting for it over greasy break rooms or stuffy smoking areas. 

Once the warm mug is in hand, you make quick work to try and find your usual spot only to find it occupied. While you won’t act possessive over a public seat of all things, losing the chance to enjoy glancing out the window and munching down your croissant seems to screw with your brain. 

You act without thinking, making a sharp turn to go sit somewhere else only for your knee to make contact with the underside of another table. Shit, you think to yourself, hearing the clatter of their cup. You helplessly watch liquid run down the table and into the person’s lap. 

You expect them to flinch, dart up from the table or, hell, even yell at you for your carelessness. He doesn’t yell at you and you don’t expect to see the colour of the liquid running down the table onto the floor to be red. Blood red. Fuck. A vampire. Hopefully, one who doesn’t eat you for your stupidity.

Just as you feel your heart sinking down to your stomach, your eyes flick up to meet the man whose day you likely ruined. You don’t see a hint of anger on his attractive features. In his defence, it’s probably because he’s busy looking at the way you’re gawking at him.

His unkempt hair and the deep eye bags adorning his sculpted face somehow make him look all the more endearing. It even looks like he’s wearing the smallest hint of eyeliner. Or are his eyes just naturally like that? Hard to tell. 

You’re pulled out of your thoughts (and staring session) by him breaking eye contact with you to clean himself up, before rising to his feet and doing the same to the table. It makes you come back down to Earth, and thereby remembering your clownery

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to—” you start, but are met with a hand held up in front of your face. You furrow your brows in confusion, having assumed his lack of aggression would mean he’d be more understanding but nope.

“No issue,” he grumbles in response, giving his trousers one last wipe down before swiftly weaving through the others in the coffee shop, flipping his hoodie up and taking his leave. Now, you’re even more confused. 

Sure, you spilled something over him and the table, but you would have bought him another one? Paid for his dry cleaning or something maybe? Yet, off he went, moving so quickly you couldn’t ever hope to catch up to him. Fucking vampires, man, you shake your head.

The confusion eventually fades but not completely. You help one of the baristas doing the last of the clean up before settling into the strange vampire’s seat and letting your mind wander as you eat your breakfast. 

second time: gawking at the gym

It’s a common occurrence for you to make it to the gym right as the rush of 9-5s ends, the perfect time in your opinion. Nobody hogging any of the ellipticals, the water cooler always left unoccupied and nothing but time for you to get through your usual routine.

With this in mind, you can confidently say that nothing out of the ordinary ever happens at the gym. Well, could say. 

Carefully bringing your leg around to meet the other on your way off of the exercise bike, you're momentarily distracted by the sound of a nearby treadmill whirring so much hard that it sounds as though it may break. 

Lifting your towel and water bottle, you make your way over in curiosity. It almost seems as if whoever is on the treadmill moves even faster as you approach. Once you make it there, you’re met with the man who seems to be continuously haunting your surroundings. 

Despite his unruly purple hair in a band and all-black gym attire, vamp man still seems out of place. The athletic wear is a complete change of pace, considering the hoodie and leather jacket he was wearing during your first encounter. 

You rid yourself of any wandering thoughts about the man and focus on him being the reason that the treadmill is about to be on its last legs. You can’t bring yourself to look away from him; the sheer speed of his legs is mindblowing.  And a little ridiculous looking if you’re honest with yourself.

The moment is short lived when he slows to a stop, probably thinking the same thing that you are about the poor machine not being able to last another mile. He looks like he’s barely broken a sweat. Fucking vampires, you repeat to yourself.  

Just your luck, he notices your presence as he dabs the side of his not-even-sweating face with his towel. He begins to smirk at your eyes on him. 

“Little rude to stare, isn’t it?” he wonders aloud, voice much deeper and more luxurious than what you remember. Getting caught fills you with deep embarrassment. You stutter out a quick apology before making your way over to another machine. 

Even with your back facing away from any passing people as you continue your routine, you can practically feel his eyes boring into you.

A few minutes is all it takes for you to turn to check if your suspicions are correct. You’re met with his shameless stare. He’s not even making an attempt to hide his gaze either, leaning on one of the back walls as he watches you, large arms crossed over his broad chest somehow making the skin-tight shirt he’s wearing even tighter. 

This is torture, you think to yourself as you give him a polite smile, only to hear him chuckling at your strained smile.

“What? So you can stare but I can’t?” he tries, fully getting your attention once more as you stop what you’re doing. Sighing and smacking your machine, you come off of your machine and make your way back over to him.

Your confidence about approaching decreases as you see the full height difference between you two. You’re a fair bit smaller than he is. He looms over you even with his back still leaning against the wall.

“If you’re trying to stalk me, you’re doing a bad job. It should be me, after all. I’m the predator,” he lightly mocks you. 

You almost stomp your foot. “I am not stalking you!” you protest. “It isn’t my fault that you apparently go to the same coffee shop and gym as me.” 

He levels you with a delighted look. Humans usually don’t take his teasing well but you seem so much fun.

Throwing an annoyed peace sign at him, you make your way out of the gym.

third time: literally just that scene in the first twilight movie without edward doing donuts in his car into the lot

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing out at this time?” The low voice comes from your side, making every muscle in your body suddenly jolt. You just left your friends. Why do creeps seem to have a radar?

Even as you pick up your pace and ignore the question, it only seems to egg him on more. Right as he starts talking to you again, he’s swiftly cut off.

Feeling a small gust of wind at your back despite the calm night, you turn in confusion. Where did the creep go? Your question is answered when you watch him get slammed against the nearest storefront’s shutters. A much taller figure overshadows over him, hand around the creep’s throat. 

Even in the darkness, you can see the purple hair, unruly as ever starting from the collar of his coat. You stride over and pull on Shinso’s coat sleeve in hopes of ceasing his threatening actions—no matter how much the creep deserves the vampire’s ire. After all, you don’t want Shinso to end up with a track record after, like, a century (you’re guessing) without one.

“Shinso,” you say, eyes pleading as you look up at him—unaware of how much he enjoys hearing you so naturally say his name. He meets your stare briefly then rolls his eyes and releases his hold, watching the man scramble away. The chuckle that leaves him at the scene makes you wonder if he’s a sadist. 

Before you can wonder much more, he grips your hand tightly in his own as he leads you farther down the street. The clasp strangely comforting to you despite his freezing skin.

“You really need to stop being so irresponsible,” he tells you, tone almost mocking as he (somehow) takes every right path to your apartment building. There’s no point in questioning how he knows this. After all, for some reason, the world keeps leading you to him in an array of coincidences that are starting to feel less and less coincidental. 

When you let out a scoff, his hand seems to tighten further and you reflexively try to yank your hand away. He just stops in his tracks and turns to face you. There’s a look in his eyes you don’t question, especially since he speaks up before you do. 

“Don’t make me have to watch your every move to keep you out of trouble, I’d like to have a social life too, you know,” he grumbles, before turning to walk away. It leaves you a little dumbfounded to say the least, since you’re not exactly stopping him from having a life. Y’know, with, how totally unplanned these encounters are and all.

fourth time: the confrontation

Apparently, not one thing can be your own anymore. Not that you’re complaining, of course, but the sheer number of coincidences between you and Shinso is extraordinary and only seems to escalate. You keep running into him even in places so busy that you think there’s no chance of running into anybody you know. 

Now that Autumn is in full swing, the nights are colder and the leaves are dappled in brown and red shades. The perfect time to start going on walks through some of the bustling parks you live near. 

You love the scenery, especially the large lake that lies in the middle of your favorite park. As dusk rolls around, you take the chance to get a walk in to enjoy the now barely visible sunlight and to ponder a certain vampire. 

Not even one lap into walking around the lake, you catch sight of the colour that’s been plaguing your thoughts in your peripheral. 

The deep indigo colour is hard to miss, especially when it’s on the head of the vampire you keep running into. Though this time feels a little different since you finally catch him when he’s unaware of you.

Sitting on one of the benches facing the water, he’s wearing his typical hoodie and leather jacket and is holding what looks to be a book. What kind of book a vampire reads is beyond your imagination. 

All you know is that you finally have the opportunity to take the upper hand. Every time you see Shinso, he worms his way out of your questions. Or he leaves in an ominous distinctly vampire fashion.

There’s no reason for him to be everywhere you go, unless ... You want to confirm your hypothesis. 

The plan is simple. You’ll act like you're still out on your casual walk and you’ll walk up to the bench and sit down in a non-suspicious way. You nod to yourself. Perfect, flawless plan. 

It shockingly works … his book must be really good. You get all the way up to the bench without him acknowledging you. Since he’s only taking up one side, you don’t wait for verbal permission to sit down alongside him.

He still makes no indication that he notices you. His eyes never leave the book he has in his hands. You fixate your eyes on the silver ring on his index finger as he flicks through the pages. 

You lean in close and try to keep your smugness about finally startling him from bleeding into your voice when you speak. 

“You know, I’m starting to think you’re conveniently everywhere I go on purpose.”

For the first time ever, he’s the one caught off guard. Shinso flinches away from you and brings his eyes to meet yours. Without his signature smirk or witty comments, he simply gets up to take his leave. 

Well. This certainly isn’t going the way you want.

After your many encounters, you can pick up on his overall mood through his reactions to you. Though, he’s never reacted like this. At least not since the incident at the coffee shop.

The dismissal ignites irritation in you. Why is up to him whether or not you interacted? Taking the opportunity while you still have it, you follow him. 

It isn’t until he passes a large tree just off of the main path that you completely catch up to him. You realize he’ll easily slip away if you don’t move quickly. So you do, hand coming up to hit the tree trunk and essentially blocking his way. 

His eyes widen at you. However, he makes no attempt at escaping. 

“Why do we keep running into each other?” you ask with exasperation, eyes still on him as he moves to lean against the tree. You don’t move your hand, using it to grasp some control of the situation.

“You’re everywhere I go, it doesn’t matter where or when. You’re always there.” The rant is far from needed for him, he knows this already. But, you keep going. 

“What is this? Were we lovers in a past life or something? Do you have some unresolved feelings?” The way you’re rambling makes you impossibly endearing to him. His classic chuckle slipping out stops you in your tracks.

“Nothing of the sort,” he curtly replies. You cross your arms over your chest at his usual demeanor returning. “No such thing as reincarnated soulmates, at least with what I’ve experienced in my lifetime. Though, the feelings department…” As he continues, he leans closer to you. So much so you can almost feel his breath on your face and smell his warm, spicy cologne. 

“Is there a problem if I do have feelings for you?”

You blink at him. What? You don’t think you’ve ever been so caught off guard.. Feelings? Is that what this has all been about? 

Every previous encounter begins to run through your head and you start picking out small things that back up his statement. The lingering stares, teasing words, protective nature. You groan and drag your hands down your face. Man, you didn’t pick up on any of his hints. He must think you’re an idiot. 

Before you can give him an answer, he pushes off the tree, standing over you at full height. Assuming he’s about to attempt to leave once more, you’re surprised to see him turning back in the direction of the bench. When you make no effort to move, he reaches out and pulls you by your coat until his hand is in yours. 

“I’ll take that as not a problem.” A smirk still on his face due to you indirectly feeding his ego. 

Although, now walking beside him, you don’t miss the way his free hand reaches up to rub at the back of his neck. A gesture you recognise as one of his nervous tics. Did you do that to him? You grin at the idea that you make the great vampire feel that way.

“There’s a scooter rental place down by this side of the lake.” His voice brings you out of your thoughts, realising he’s been trying to hold eye contact with you. “I’ll make a deal with you, if you let me take you out on a ride around the lake, I’ll answer any questions you have, deal?”

The way he’s practically bargaining with you makes you want to laugh, but you keep your face neutral as you agree to his offer. Who turns down taking a romantic scooter ride with a hot vampire? Nobody. 

Of course, he takes any opportunity to tease you, so he rents a smaller scooter so you have to cling onto him.

You don’t complain though. How can you as you enjoy feeling his back muscles flex? Not to mention, he keeps his promise and answers any and every question you have about himself or his past. And, wow, he has an interesting and long past. 

As the sky turns dark and drips stars, you’re left with a feeling rising in your chest that you certainly don’t reject and with the hope of meeting him again—on purpose, this time. A planned event seems likely as you clutch the torn-out blank page of his book with his phone number scribbled across it in your fist.

one time: he gazes at you

“Hitoshi. You already have better night vision than me. This is so extra!” you protest, stumbling through the dark apartment as your vampiric boyfriend maneuvers you to ... his room, you think. 

Hitoshi just rubs soothing circles on your back and you just know the fucker is smirking. You hear the light click on. 

“You can take the blindfold off.” 

Tugging the blindfold off, you stare at the new object Hitoshi bought for his room. 

“Baby, this is a mirror.” 

He nods while leaning against his bed, looking infuriatingly pretty per usual. 

“You can’t even see yourself in a mirror. Why?” You arch an eyebrow in Hitoshi’s direction, trying to explain your absolute bafflement at his purchase. 

“In case you’re here and want to check yourself out.”  

You see nothing but innocence plastered on his facial expression but did you trust it? No. 

A mindblowing second later, he stands in front of you, caressing your face with calloused, cold hands. A nice contrast to the sweltering temperature in his room he set for you. Hitoshi leans in to kiss you, gentle but firm. Your hands go up to fist his shirt as he intensifies the kiss. 

He slides his hands down your cheek to stroke your lip and then slowly skims down your body.  

“It would be a great idea to take this off,” he whispers, playing with the hem of your shirt. 

You eagerly nod as he strips you out of your shirt and pants. Awareness of his plans finally clicks when he turns you to face the mirror. 

The remark on the tip of your tongue dies when Hitoshi rolls your nipples through the thin lace of your bra. You arch into his touch as he gently pinches and pulls them. God, your panties are already drenched and nipples hard. 

“Fuck,” you moan as Hitoshi slides your panties to the side. Letting you lean against his corded chest, he hitches one of your legs off the floor. 

“Go on, spread yourself open. Let me see how wet your slutty cunt is,” he murmurs into your ear. 

You hard swallow as you spread your glistening lips open for him, strands of your arousal clinging to your fingers when you pull them away. Hitoshi digs his hand into your thigh.

“Did I tell you to stop?” He sounds amused as he uses his other hand to pull your hair by the roots.

“No, no, daddy, I’m sorry,” you apologize and move your hand back to where it belongs. 

“Good girl, look at yourself. Wrecked without even being fucked.” You stare at yourself in the mirror with a half-lidded gaze. He’s right. With your heaving chest and puffy, soaked pussy, you look like you’ve been railed. But instead, you continue to spread open your aching pussy for your fully clothed boyfriend.

“Daddy, daddy, please touch me,” you plead as you grind against his hard bulge, desperate for any kind of friction. 

“Are you going to be a good girl for me?” If you were any more lucid, you’d have smacked Hitoshi for his lilting tease. 

“Aren’t I always a good girl,” you whine, hands clambering at his thighs. 

He chuckles at that, kissing your head before somehow gracefully crumpling to the ground with you in his lap. In a blink, he has you spread out in his lap as he plays with your clit. He slides a thick finger inside your tiny cunny as he grazes your shoulder with his canines.

“Look at you,” he coos. “You look so good like this, my darling little slut.” 

You don’t even have a retort, too enraptured by the sight of Hitoshi fingerfucking your sopping cunt with his invisible hand. The way your cunt opens for him and gapes in the mirror spellbinding for both of you.

You moan as your hips jerk up. There’s not much more he loves than how your lips part and your legs shake at how he strokes his finger inside of you. 

“More,” you beg. How can he resist your dazed expression? 

“Such a needy baby,” he tsks as he scissors you open with another finger. 

Another strum of your clit and pinch of your nipple and you’re gone, eyes squeezing shut. Your juices surely ruining his pants as you writhe in his lap. 

He cradles your cheek and then grips your chin to turn you back to the mirror. 

“Look at yourself, pretty girl. Such a fucked out mess.” 

You gaze at the bruises blooming over your shoulders and down your neck and shudder, pleased. The aftershocks of your orgasm leave you warm as you languidly suck your juices off Hitoshi’s fingers.  

“Toshi!” you squeal as he gently deposits you on his bed and pulls his clothes off. The bed is purely decorative and for you considering he doesn’t sleep. Although, even with a bed, you guys still fuck over every surface in his apartment. 

Your sensitivity protests fall to deaf ears as he bends your knees to your chest. This time, Hitoshi is the one to spread you open. He slaps your cunt and you claw at the sheets. Pumping two fingers slowly in and out of you, he uses his other hand to roughly pull down your bra.

His chapped lips wrapping around your nipple and cold fingers groping your other breast feel overwhelming. Hitoshi cages you in, sucking wet kisses over your tits, leaving you no room to evade his overstimulation as you squirm to get away from his fingers fucking up into you. 

Your sore nipples and cunt get a moment of reprieve as he moves down to concentrate on marking bites all over your plush thighs. Instantly, you miss being full. 

When he passes your empty, clenching cunt for the third time to suck bruises on your inner thighs, you burst. 

“Daddy, please, please, fuck me!” 

Hitoshi trails kisses up your heated skin to your throat, laving over the hickies he left.

“Beautiful,” he croons as he finally positions his tip against your hole and pushes in. The praise and stretch make you whine. He stills as your tiny cunt clenches around him. Your warm, drenched walls wrapping around his cock makes him toss his head back in pleasure. 

“My patient good girl,” he groans, pulling at your nipples. 

“Fuck—more, daddy, more,” you curse as you squirm, your hips rocking up to meet his shallow thrusts. He doesn’t reply and grazes his fangs over your pulse point as he holds your hips down. 

Your breath hitches—and he abruptly pulls back.

“Did my baby think I was going to bite her?” Hitoshi gives you a lazy smirk as he keeps his vexingly slow pace, watching his cock drag in and out of your creaming cunt. 

His large hand wrapping around your neck makes you squeak and suddenly tighten around him. Your favorite necklace. Knowing he’s using an insignificant fraction of his strength to please you makes your eyes roll back as your breath stutters.

“That’s it, cum for me, pretty girl.” Hitoshi starts a punishing pace as he strokes your clit with his free hand. His dark eyes never leave his hand wrapped around your throat, your ravishing lightheaded face and your bouncing tits. Hitoshi’s furrowed expression as he drags his tongue over his canines in concentration makes you whimper. 

You buck against him, gushing around him and crying out his name.

The way you cum so prettily for him has Hitoshi hissing your name in your ear as he thrusts deep into your spasming cunt, chasing his own release. Intertwining his hands with yours, he presses you into the mattress to pin you down. Before long, his orgasm washes over him. 

You gaze contentedly at Hitoshi as he pulls out, feeling empty already—and then you realize. 

“Hitoshi! I swear to god if I look like a grape again,” you threaten as you try to stand up to head to the bathroom. 

You don’t even take a step before he whisks you into his bathroom, laughing at you and kissing your forehead. 

Well. You suppose looking like a grape isn’t that bad.

#bnha smut #shinsou smut #mha smut #pomoboba writes #pomoboba.nsfw #shinso smut #hitoshi shinsou smut

[red-doll-face]

I just found your blog and I LOVE IT.

If I might ask: What’s your saddest dbd headcanons (killers or survivors)

Call me crazy, but I must know! ❤️

Ohh this one was a good one but it hurt me so badddd, ahhh. I’m glad to share , I have some bad dbd brain rot lmaooo I didn’t do every character so I hope these are ok 🥺 these are a bit long too

Sad Dead by Daylight Hcs

Claudette Morel:

Claudette is one of the criers. Probably cries while getting mori’d and can't help the tears during the really bad matches. Her pain tolerance isn’t very high, hence the willingness to waste time healing herself if it means she can stop being in so much pain.

Meg Thomas:

Spends time alone thinking about her past life. Her mother is a subject that makes her really frustrated. People mentioning their moms makes her a little standoffish. Wishes she had a chance to say goodbye in some way.

Ace Visconti:

Ace doesn't have much family to even miss him. He wonders if they noticed he’s gone or hasn’t come back. Maybe they think he hit big bucks and left them behind. Ace is stuck really. Even if he were to go back, he’d be dead or working off his debt.

Feng Min:

Gets super mad when she loses, it makes her so angry that she doesn’t control the trials. She blames other people for her losses but actually is very critical of herself. Casts the blame on others so she doesn't have to face her own mistakes.

David King:

All of his perks are about putting his ass on the line for his teammates yet everyone seems to think he’s selfish and a dumb brute. David doesn't know what to do to be more approachable; genuinely wants to be seen as a friend.

Laurie Strode:

Laurie never got the chance to mourn her friends. She thought she won. Finding out she’ll never truly escape Michael or be able to forget him makes her so mad. When she gets Michael in trials she makes sure the glass in her pocket is extra jagged and serrated.

Jane Romero:

Jane only wanted recognition and acknowledgement. Everything she's worked so hard for feels like a waste for her now. She should have spent more time on herself or with her father. Jane feels like she has no purpose anymore besides running and screaming for the enjoyment of the entity.

Yui Kimura:

Yui can’t stand the Clown or the Stealth Killers. Reminds her of bad memories. When she loses against killers like ghostface, she is especially angry.Her fighting spirit can’t help her actually get back at them.

Zarina Kassir:

Spent so much time fighting inequality only to spend the rest of her life where the odds are never in favor of the survivors. Where the oppressed are destined to lose. Each one of the people is subjugated, both killer and survivor and there's nothing she can do to free them.

Cheryl Mason:

She's been through literal hell and back just to end up in a weird recurring nightmare. At least Silent Hill had an escape. She's killed a god and somehow someone her size with a boxcutter can kill her? Huh.

Élodie Rakoto:

Feels guilty over the loss of her parents and feels extremely disillusioned by this realm. It's so much more boring than she thought it would be. All of her searching and traveling was not worth this shithole.

Steve Harrington:

Steve, though 18, is very much still a kid. Steve is naive about certain things and his optimism gets chipped away at a lot. Wasn’t too enthusiastic at having to care or look after Dustin and his friends but misses having people to protect.

Jeff Johannson:

Someone who definitely ends up taking hooks for people and ends up dying. Has a reputation among the killers as a survivor who is easy to leverage during the endgame because he will try for that save.

Kate Denson:

Feels very lucky to even have her guitar. The other survivors didn't get to bring many things with them. Makes her feel a little bad when she Often feels too worn out and exhausted by the trials to play it.

Quentin Smith:

Unfortunately stuck in pseudo-hell with his abuser. Gets really anxious against Freddy. Leans on his fellow survivors. Will sometimes accidentally bring Freddy to others in an attempt to get Freddy the hell away for him.

Evan ‘The Trapper’ Macmillan:

Actually has tried on numerous occasions to remove the metal rods and shrapnel embedded in his skin. It hurts like hell and just when he thinks he’s got it, he loses grip. These attempts never work.

Philip ‘The Wraith’ Ojomo:

When he’s alone, Philip will try and talk to himself. His vocal cords are warped, his voice a scratchy growl and garbled gurgle. He remembers what he used to sound like but he tries talking less and less.

Max ‘The Hillbilly’ Thompson Jr.:

Besides being named after someone who locked him away for most of his life? Max has to rest a lot between trials. The constant movement puts strain on him and causes him dull pain. His back causes him a lot of grief. The Entity is barely merciful.

Michael ‘The Shape’ Myers:

Meant to be forgotten by everyone who ever knew of him and he knows it. Loomis, after deciding that Michael couldn't be ‘fixed’ just hoped that the system would swallow him. If it weren't for the entity, Michael knows he'd either be dead or caught and back with Loomis.

Bubba ‘The Cannibal’ Sawyer:

Used to be one of the nicer killers to go against and might have been sweet to certain survivors who deserved kindness. But the Entity punished him for it. Bubba isn't very nice anymore. Probably a little meaner to avoid being in trouble again.

Amanda ‘The Pig’ Young:

Another one down to give second chances, much like the second chance she saw in John Kramer. Doesn’t do this a lot however, therefore escaping the ire of the Entity. She’s spent a lifetime hurting others emotionally and physically. Now, she’ll spend an eternity.

Rin ‘The Spirit’ Yamaoka:

The pain and anguish is so heavy but time is no cure in a place where time is nonexistent. No happiness to replace her rage. Especially in a place where her anger is a weapon for a greater power. Also has tried to pull the glass out of her skin and press her limbs back together. Can’t stand to see herself in the mirror.

Adiris ‘The Plague’:

Her body is always on the precipice of falling apart. Her skin rots; her flesh aches and feels like it will tear away at any moment. She is immortalized yet so close to death. Her body hurts so much but she has a purpose to serve. (makes me even sadder bc jannneeeee my mainnnnn😔)

Kazan ‘The Oni’ Yamaoka:

Misses his son. Never got to see him grow up, considering he;s already met his descendant. Proud from a distance because that's all he can be. The beginning of something so angry that it passes down his family line.

Caleb ‘The Deathslinger’ Quinn

During his life, was under the control of people who made him work for their gain who used him. The Entity emphasizes the killers as a position of power but Caleb does much of the same here. Works and works. Never for himself.

Pyramid Head ‘The Executioner’:

His existence has always included pain. He’s not quite sure what it’s like without it. He’s made several efforts to take the pyramid off. It pulls painfully at his neck. Makes awful groaning noises and roars.

Ji-Woon ‘The Trickster’ Hak:

Has never been much more than entertainment for other people since he was a child. Never expected to be much more. To the point that now, if he doesn't feel impressive in some way, he feels incomplete. The entity is his way to really indulge his ‘true artistry’.

Yun-Jin Lee:

A bit selfish when it comes to surviving. A few people around the campfire dont like her for that reason. Some of the meaner people will even leave her behind because they remember all of the times Yun-Jin might have done something similar.

Thanks for reading!!! I’m sorry I don’t post often but I have Shit ton of hw and I recently started a new project sooo ya know 💖💖💖

#dbd #dbd x reader #dead by daylight #michael myers #slasher x reader #dbd the shape #dbd killers #dbd survivor #red writes

[animeyanderelover]

You said you're gonna open requests for a short time today, so are they opened now? Feel free to ignore this if they're not opened yet. Can I request prompt 109 with Kanato please?

You sent them in in the right timing, don’t worry.

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationship, unhealthy mindset, possessiveness, obsessiveness, bipolar behavior, chocking, screaming, pushing, violence, vicious behavior

Prompt 109: “I know she’s cute. BUT SHE’S MINE! TOUCH HER AND I’LL KILL YOU!!”

The air had had turned all so sudden so incredibly suffocating, way more than you had ever expected it to be. And given the fact that you had experienced something like this already so often, way too often, it led your lips to wobble and your knees to nearly give in. All you really could do in that moment was staring with wide and teary eyes at the purple-haired boy who was just standing in the doorframe, a weirdly unreadable expression on his face. It made all the nerves in your body go crazy. This wasn't good. He was quiet! Way too quiet for his character. There was no rage, no anger nothing in his eyes. Why was he so emotionless? Shouldn't he be yelling, screaming, hurting someone right now?

Chances were that he would let his ire out on you, something you were terrified off. You hadn't forgotten the last time you had left him unsatisfied and jealous. Your body hadn't forgotten it either, the bruises still not fully healed. Backing away wasn't a good idea either or else you would bump into his brother Ayato. Both were currently doing some sort of glaring contest, Ayato having narrowed his eyes in an annoyed manner and Kanato still having this frightening hollow and penetrating look in them. And you poor victim found yourself stuck between those two, feeling like you were just dust right now since no one of them was currently even noticing your presence. But you didn't dare to move, if you were honest you couldn't even. Your body was neglecting you the ability to move, your instincts clearly stopping you from pulling the attention back on you.

The fact that no one had said anything for a while was even more nerve wrecking, it made it harder to judge what they would do next. All you could suspect was that they might just start attacking each other without you even having time to react. It was so unbelievably silent that you could hear everything right now, thw wind blowing outside the window, the slight breathing of Ayato and Kanato and most of all your own heartbeat which was drumming like crazy against your chest. Could they hear it as well? In your opinion it was painfully loud, but it seemed they were busy with other things.

"That's ridiculous! (y/n), come over here. Now!", you flinched when you heard Ayato speaking for what felt like the first time in ages up, shifting with a weak heart around to him. He didn't even bother to spare you a look, he just continued to glare at his brother, clearly bothered with what Kanato had just said to him. You knew that both of them weren't guys to share, no one from those six was. But if you had to share the ones who were the baddest to deal with, you would give the trophy without a doubt to the triplets, all of them were horrible beings. But for you Kanato had always been the worst. He was incredibly dangerous, more than Ayato, more than Laito.

You just couldn't judge him and that made you feel scared. You never knew how he would react to this or that, if his reaction would be a positive one, if you could call him being bratty and annoying positive, or a bad one, the kind of reaction where he started shouting at you, grabbed you by your throat and pushed you around like you were some ragdoll. He was unhinged, unstable and for that you had never been able to understand him and his way of thinking. He was unpredictable, a joker. With Ayato and Laito you had at least a bit of an easier time to forsee their actions.

But you were scared of them as well, making you hesitate when you heard his demanding tone. Your throat had gone dry, your palms having become disgustingly sweaty so that you started to wipe them on the fabric on your clothes. Should you go to him? But what would Kanato do if you would? On the other hand, what would Ayato do if you wouldn't? "(y/n)." When you heard Kanato's voice, you instantly turned around, an unpleasant feeling creeping up your spine when hearing his voice. It had been a lot less harsh and loud like Ayato's voice had sounded like, but it had this certain something in it that would have managed to give people far less cowardly than you the chills.

You were met with dull purple eyes, a hidden insanity hidden inside of them that made you unconsciously step back a bit, noticed instantly by Kanato judging from the way his eyes shifted to your legs. And he didn't seem to like it one bit, pressing Teddy slightly tighter against his chest. "Y-you aren't trying to leave me for him, do you?"His voice was wavering, you as well as Ayato slowly seeing his hollow facade crumbling. It was an alarming thing to see, making you almost instantly step closer to him, fear taking control over your body, not wanting to anger him.

But this small action led to an instant small enragement from the red-haired boy. "What do you think you're doing, small pancake? Get back here this instant! You belong to Yours Truly!" You froze, mind being torn apart between listening to him or Kanato. "(y/n)." Kanato had stretched his hand out a bit, holding it in your direction. On the first glance it might have looked like a silent plead. But it wasn't the feeling you were getting from him. You could sense it in his eyes. It was a silent ordre, a clear warning to not even think about turning around, to not abandon him for his brother. Or else...

You heard Ayato tsk'ing, clearly getting majorly annoyed with you and the situation. "Stupid thing. Do you seriously think that he can keep you safe from me? Do you think I didn't notice how you keep lingering near him and start avoiding others? Don't tell me you're listening to him now because you're afraid of him." You tensed up when you heard him stepping closer to you, gaze being frozen on the ground. "You're scared, aren't you?" Another step closer, followed by another. How close was he by now?

You got your answer the moment you felt hair brushing against your cheeks, Ayato's face entering from the corner of your eyes your vision. "Do you expect me to care whether you're scared or not? The only reason you were brought here was to serve as a bloodbag, nothing more. You don't get to choose with whom you can stay or not. You don't have any power. I on the other hand have the right to decide over you. And if pain is really the way to make you submissive and obedient, I can give you that even better than he can. You're after all very cute when your face is scrunched up in pain. Should I show you?

You couldn't help tears falling down your face when you suddenly felt his hand wrapping around your throat, starting to squeeze it tightly and causing you to choke on the air. You felt nauseous the moment you saw the grin on his face obviously loving what he was seeing. "See? I can give you just what Kanato gives you all the time. You must like it if you stick close to him for that reason, right? I can make sure that you'll look even cuter when in pain. All for my eyes."

"I know she's cute." You turned your gaze through half-closed eyes to Kanato who was looking at you two with wide eyes, many emotions swimming in them. Ayato looked at him as well, clearly unimpressed by him. "So what?" He gave Kanato a slightly challenging look, pulling you with the hand wrapped around your throat closer to him, making you start seeing black spots.

"BUT SHE'S MINE!" The outburst was all so sudden that it catched you as well as Ayato by surprise, Kanato suddenly appearing right in front of you two, ripping Ayato's hand in a way away that made you fear he might twist your neck in the process and shoved you harshly aside. Your ass was met with the hard ground, making you twist your face a bit when you landed wrongly and started coughing, air suddenly filling your lungs again. "TOUCH HER AND I'LL KILL YOU!!"

You weren't surprised that Kanato hadn't been concerned the least bit about whether he would hurt you or not, having gripped Ayato's clothes and shaking him violently to which Ayato on the other hand tried to free himself, his hands pulling on Kanato's arms in an attempt to make him let go. You slowly crawled away from them, not wanting to risk getting caught in the fight. You better stayed away, especially from Kanato, he looked like he was seriously about to kill Ayato. His one hand had by now been placed right above the boy's throat, threatening to crush his neck at any moment. And Ayato seemed to sense the same thing, looking all of a sudden a bit stressed out.

"Fine then! Giving it a second thought, she's more boring anyways! You can keep that pathetic girl for yourself! She isn't worth all the troubles!" He jerked backwards, making Kanato lose hold on him, stumbling a bit clumsily back before straightening himself up. He turned around, shooting you a sharp glare before leaving that clearly told you that this had been your fault. Ayato hated losing to others. You had this nagging fear that he might try something later on. But you also knew that this was currently the smaller of the two problems.

"You ungrateful bitch! Why would you let him touch you?!" The second Ayato had completely left the room, you were already yanked upwards by Kanato, who looked wrathfully at you, making you burst out in tears once more. "You would have left me for him, wouldn't you?! Admit it!" You quickly shook your head, fearing that he might break your hands if he would add a bit more pressure. "I-I would never. I promise. I don't-don't plan on ever leaving you."

He stared intensely at you, obviously trying to judge whether you were telling the truth or not. The look in his eyes was fearsome, he had unleashed all his unstableness he had kept hidden before. "...I don't believe you."

A huge smile made it's way on his face, one that wasn't comforting at all. It was too big, looking like his mouth was hurting. Next to that it didn't reach his eyes and looked terribly fake to the extent that you felt bill raising up your throat.

"You're a liar. I don't like when people lie to me. And if someone lies, they have to be punished. That's what my mother always used to do to us when we were little." The next thing you knew was a mindbreaking pain filling all your senses.

#yandere diabolik lovers #yandere kanato #yandere kanato sakamaki

[jiangwanyinscatmom]

Madam Yu starts loving Wei Wuxian and showing anything like remotely well intended affection toward Jiang Cheng in fix it fics, HAHAHAHAHAHA (breaths) Hahahaha!

After all of that, let me explain why this would not work considering even before the fall of Lotus Pier and her death she had hated Wei Wuxian the moment he had been saved by Jiang Fengmian as well as instilling that Jiang Cheng was only worth as much as his title as Sect Heir of Yunmeng Jiang. They also contrast the ideologies between Jiang Fengmian and Madam Yu that were never understood by the other, mirroring the underlying resentment from a forced bond and the overall message that love can not be the only factor with peaceably accepting another person as your equal and confidant.

Madam Yu convinced herself that Wei Wuxian was usurping the position of power that Jiang Cheng held all because Jiang Fengmian had taken a shine to a child that was naturally good willed and bright. She purposely uses this as a tactic to drive a wedge between Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian.

She derides her son while continuing to insist he is still above others leading to his complex of superiority and his jealousy of never being able to please her or his father. His lack of actual good will towards others (like his mother who ignored smaller night hunts to help commoners) leads to his father's lecture of not understanding what the Yunmeng Jiang motto really is, " 明知不可为而为之". Usually this is translated just as "to attempt the impossible" which is correct technically, but the full meaning of this really works better as "knowing you fight against impossible odds to do what is right".

Jiang Cheng went to her side. Madam Yu squeezed his arm with her slender fingers, then slapped his shoulder loudly, scolding, “There’s isn’t any improvement in your cultivation at all. You’re seventeen already, yet you’re still like an ignorant child, fooling around with others all the time. Are you the same as others? Who knows which sewers other people will be splashing in, but you’re going to be the leader of the Jiang Sect!”

At the same time she also uses these same insults against Wei Wuxian. However, he is confident in his own skills and talents which is a confidence she herself despises thinking he is unworthy as a servant's son or the son of a rogue cultivator with no clan ties to have a right to that level of cultivation and sees it as a slight against her authority. Neither can do right in her eyes whether they listen faithfully or question her meanings.

Madam Yu, “Wei Ying, what trouble are you stirring up this time?”

Wei WuXian stepped forward, accustomed to it. Madam Yu scolded, “You’re like this again! If you yourself don’t seek progress, then don’t drag Jiang Cheng along to fool around with you. You’re going to be a bad influence to him.”

Wei WuXian looked startled, “I don’t seek progress? Why, am I not the one with the most progress in the entire Lotus Pier?”

Young people were never too patient. They wouldn’t feel satisfied unless they talked back. Hearing this, an air of hostility seemed to form around Madam Yu’s brow.

Jiang Cheng wordlessly and obediently takes the reprimand, head down and silent, deferring to her. Wei Wuxian however arrogant it may seem, talks back questioning what she means that he has not progressed when he has the talent to show. This is early foreshadowing to their exact stances during the Wen Indoctrination.

Jiang Cheng held Wei WuXian firmly. Wei WuXian asked with a lowered voice, “What are you holding me down for?”

Jiang Cheng snorted, “Don’t do unnecessary things.”

He didn’t know why, but all of the boys sent from the GusuLan Sect looked somewhat pallid. Lan WangJi’s face was especially pale, but his expression was still as frosted as usual, distancing him from everyone else. The sword Bichen on his back, he stood alone, with nobody around him. Wei WuXian had wanted to go up to him and say hello, but Jiang Cheng warned him, “Don’t cause any trouble!”

MianMian knew that if she was hung up, she probably wouldn’t be able to come back down alive. She tried to run away, but wherever she fled, the people dispersed around her. Just as Wei WuXian twitched, Jiang Cheng held him firmly down. MianMian suddenly noticed that two people remained still. She hid behind their backs at once, shivering.

The two were Jin ZiXuan and Lan WangJi.

With the rescue of Mianmian and Wei Wuxian staying to protect Lan Wangji (who had protected Mianmian in turn despite repercussions) gained the attention of Wen Chao and his ire all of which Jiang Cheng kept ordering Wei Wuxian not to do. Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian are thrust into the role of the Jiang leaders stance of morality. Wei Wuxian, and by mention Lan Wangji, have done a unimaginable feat along with embodying the traits that Jiang Fengmian admires. As both did the impossible along with doing what was right in the protection of MianMian and Wei Wuxian staying to aid Lan Wangji.

Wei WuXian, “Those Wen dogs are talking nonsense, they have no face. Lan Zhan was clearly the one who killed it.”

Jiang FengMian gave him a smile, “Really? What a coincidence. The second young master of the Lan Sect told me that you were the one who killed it. So who was it, really?”

Wei WuXian, “I guess both of us did something. But he was the main one. I only went into the beast’s shell and chased it out. Lan Zhan was waiting for it alone outside. It only died after it dragged on for six entire hours.”

He described to Jiang Cheng and his father the things that had happened during the past few days. Jiang Cheng’s expression was complicated after he had finished listening. He only spoke a while later, “It’s pretty much the same as what Lan WangJi said. So it seems that both of you killed it together. What’s yours is yours. Why would you give him all the credit?”

Wei WuXian, “I didn’t. I just feel that, compared to him, I really didn’t do much.”

Jiang FengMian nodded, “Well done.”

He was able to kill a four-hundred-year-old beast at the mere age of seventeen. It was much more than a ‘well done’.

Jiang Cheng, “Congratulations.”

The tone of his congratulations sounded quite strange.

Jiang Cheng is once again faced with the reality that despite doing as his mother wanted, he is met with the reprimands of his father who does place loyalty and friendship in the face of dangers. Interestingly, the way Wei Wuxian defends Jiang Cheng mirrors the excuses that Jiang Fengmian had given for Madam Yu's harsh words and rumors about himself.

Jiang Cheng, “It served you right to be bored to death. You shouldn’t have played the hero and you shouldn’t have cared for such a hell of a thing. If in the beginning you didn’t…”

Suddenly, Jiang FengMian spoke, “Jiang Cheng.”

Jiang Cheng paused, knowing that he had said too much. He was quiet at once.

Jiang FengMian didn’t look as if he was blaming him of anything, but his expression had turned from calm to more solemn, “Do you know in which ways what you just said is not appropriate?”

Jiang Cheng’s head hung low, “Yes.”

Wei WuXian, “He’s just angry and speaking without care.”

Seeing how Jiang Cheng’s mouth and heart were still at odds, how he still felt defiant, Jiang FengMian shook his head, “A-Cheng, there are some things that can’t be said even if you’re angry. If you said them, it means that you still don’t understand the motto of the Jiang Sect, that you still don’t…”

That "hell of a thing" Jiang Cheng mentions is referencing that saving Lan Wangji was a waste in comparison to an easy get away along with Jiang Cheng. He helped a person that potentially was a future problem for them. A thought that hadn't been on Jiang Fengmian's mind as he praised not only Wei Wuxian's kill but his care in putting others first in such dire circumstances. Understandable praise for decent morals. And then comes Madam Yu,

The harsh voice of a woman came from outside the door, “Yes, he doesn’t understand, but what does it matter, as long as Wei Ying understands?!”

Like a purple bolt of lightning, Madam Yu swept inside, bringing in with her a cold breeze. She was standing five steps away from Wei WuXian’s bed, brows raised, “‘To attempt the impossible’ is exactly how he is, isn’t it? Fooling around even though he knew that it’d bring trouble to his sect?!”

Jiang FengMian, “My lady, what are you doing here?”

Madam Yu, “What am I doing here? What a joke that I am asked of such a thing! Sect Leader Jiang, do you still remember that I’m also the leader of Lotus Pier? Do you still remember that every inch of the earth here is my territory? Do you still remember, between the one lying there and the one standing here, which one is your son?”

Such questions he had heard countless times throughout the years. Jiang FengMian answered, “Of course I do.”

Madam Yu laughed bitterly, “You do remember, but there’s no use if you simply remember. Wei Ying, he really can’t take it unless he stirs up some trouble, can he? If I had known, I would’ve made him stay in Lotus Pier properly and not go outside. Could Wen Chao really have dared to do anything to the two young masters of the GusuLan Sect and the LanlingJin Sect? Even if he did, it’d mean that they ran out of luck. Since when was it your turn to play the hero?”

Do you remember who is a leader? Do you know what's mine? Do you know the worth of people's lives and what it gains me over the trouble of caring for them unconditionally?

Her arguments can be answered already, "Could Wen Chao really have dared to do anything to the two young masters of the GusuLan Sect and the LanlingJin Sect? Even if he did, it’d mean that they ran out of luck."

Yes, as they had already burned Cloud Recesses and physically harmed Lan Wangi once before. Jin Zixuan was expected to die as he had been abandoned in the cave already with no weapon his consequence was already passed. She also says "so what?" if they did retaliate because it was them choosing to play a game of hero and killing themselves for putting their head up against a higher power and baiting more trouble in the future, regardless of the Wen Sect attacking the sects one by one, and Yunmeng the next to be considered the weakest.

All which is parroted later by Jiang Cheng 13 years later when he demands Wei Wuxian beg in front of an altar, to make amends for deaths that hurt Jiang Cheng even when Wei Wuxian died for those once. He deserved to die for protecting the Wens that caused everything. He was shameless for sticking to Lan Wangji instead of honoring their childhood promise choosing someone else over him and loving another from the start. "What did I gain from you doing the right thing?" is the underlying accusation Madam Yu and Jiang Cheng use as a defense constantly.

Jiang FengMian stood up, “Let’s talk when we get back.”

Madam Yu, “Talk about what? Get back to where? I’ll be talking about it right here. I have nothing to be ashamed of, anyways! Jiang Cheng, come over here.”

Jiang Cheng was stuck between his father and his mother. After a moment of hesitation, he moved to his mother’s side. Holding his shoulders, Madam Yu pushed him forward for Jiang FengMian to see, “Sect Leader Jiang, it seems that some things I have to say. Look carefully—this, is your own son, the future head of Lotus Pier. Even if you frown upon him just because I was the one who bore him, his surname is still Jiang! … I don’t believe for one second that you haven’t heard of how the outside people gossips, that Sect Leader Jiang has still not moved on from a certain Sanren though so many years have passed, regarding the son of his old friend as a son of his own; they’re speculating if Wei Ying is your…”

Jiang FengMian shouted, “Yu ZiYuan!”

Madam Yu shouted as well, “Jiang FengMian! Do you think that anything will change just because you raised your voice?! Do you think that I don’t know you?!”

The two debated the issue outside. On the way, Madam Yu’s angered voice was louder and louder. Jiang FengMian argued as well, suppressing his rage. Jiang Cheng stood blankly where he was. A while later, he glanced at Wei WuXian, and suddenly turned to leave as well.

Madam Yu and Jiang Cheng use harsh language, twisted rumors and others that are dead and gone to guilt others into what they insist is the correct way to make amends to wrongs with wild standards. Madam Yu and Jiang Fengmian fundamentally could not work with the other as an equal unit. Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian become the worst of what Yu Ziyuan and Jiang Fengmian had built up before them.

The luxury that was given to Wei Wuxian was that he still had Lan Wangji standing by his side to pull him away from that cycle of continued misunderstandings and refusal of seeing the other as anything other than a person that would be a constant disappointment.

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #madam yu #jiang fengmian #jiang cheng #wei wuxian #Orion will you tag this as anti anything? #No no I don't think I will #This sat as a draft gathering dust but now it's free #and is long and turned into a literal essay... #sorry sorry (crawls back into my meme hole)

[shorkbrian]

Any chances you'll write for Levi again? It's his birthday so i was scrolling and saw your drabble for him.

I missed his birthday FRICK. Well, I have a song that makes me soft and is a vibe while reading this. https://open.spotify.com/track/68XhCrBajUR64h6wv4eYYW?si=M4wxQMwiRnqGrvn2uPlUqw 

and happy holidays to everyone lol

(Warnings - NSFW, no penetration, dubcon, gratuitous blowjob scene.

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

He’s called for you again.

You fix a cup of tea, just how you know he prefers it, trying to hurry through the motions, pouring the boiling water, steeping the leaves, adding the slightest touch of honey.

When you reach his room, you’re glad you’ve brought the tea. Upon opening the door, you can see that tonight will be rough, full of jealousy and unintended pain.

Levi has thrown things to the floor in anger, books, candles, paper and pen.  He hardly ever leaves a mess, is meticulous about cleaning them up as soon as he makes them. It’s unlike his normal demeanor to be so disorderly.

The man is slouched in a chair by the wall, barely raises his head when you enter. He twitches despite the care you take in shutting the door, trying your best to close it quietly.

“Captain Levi? Sir?” You held in your gasp as he lifted his head. The captain looked awful - dark circles hung under his eyes, his posture was hunched and tired, and worst of all, his eyes were red and puffy, as if he’d been crying.

Captain Levi hardly ever cried.

“(Y/N), go sit on the bed.”

Without a word, you did as you were told, placing his cup of tea on the nightstand as you sat. Levi slowly stood, straightening his back out as he did.

“I’m....” He trailed off, stepping towards the bed. His eyes were kept downcast, unable to meet your questioning gaze.

You were aware that something had probably happened on today’s push beyond the wall. Less than half of the group that had gone over had come back, Erwin and Levi grim-faced at the head of the group. Too many deaths.

“Captain… tell me-tell me how to help?” You were used to it by now, pushing aside discomfort and embarrassment to cater to your captain.

He was a harsh man, face always lowered into a disinterested scowl, not hesitant to snap at anyone who irked him or raised his ire. He made crude jokes when he was in a good mood, swearing and letting a cruel smile cross his lips.

The man had a reputation - intimidating, rigid, competent and unwavering. But with you, the menacing Captain Levi was… different.

You weren’t sure when it had started.

All you had wanted to do was provide a small bit of comfort on what had seemed to be an awful day for the Captain, much like today. He had stormed through the mess hall, ignoring the cadets shrinking away at his prescence to march straight to the kitchen. Only higher ranking members could enter the kitchens, other than staff, so it wasn’t busy.

He had grabbed a plate from the cleaned rack of dishes, dished out food, then swiftly headed for the kitchen door again, only to snap at the first staff that got in his way; you.

Feeling awful as he stormed past you, committing nothing more than the crime of standing in his way for more than a mere second, you had tried to make amends.

It was common knowledge that the Captain had an affinity for tea. A nice cup offered to the man would perhaps lift his mood. At the very least, it would soothe your conscious - you felt guilty for worsening his evening.

So that’s what you did.

He had let you in his room with a curt “come in”, and you quickly explained what the tea was for, quick to set it on the small table he was seated at before the Captain could snap at you to leave.

“Drink it if you find it satisfactory, if not, feel free to dump it out the window. Again, so sorry for disturbing you Captain, sir, but I hope your evening goes well.”

And then you had left.

And Levi’s curiosity was piqued. Who were you, to be so bold as to feel entitled to his time? A lowly kitchen staff?  You thought of yourself so highly, thought you knew him well enough to know how he took his tea? Pretentious.

But still, he found himself raising the cup to his lips, taking a sip, testing the taste. And admittedly, you didn’t know how he fixed his own tea. You had made it too sweet, with too much honey. The sweetness burned his tongue, scorched his throat far worse than hot water ever could.

He liked it.

Levi found himself seeking you out, finding out from the head cook who the kitchen staff were, who you were. When you worked, which barracks you stayed in, if you were always kind and sweet to rude people you didn’t even know.

You were surprised when the head cook had told you that Levi asked for more tea.

Of course, you brought it to him.

And at first, he never talked to you. He just watched you set down his tea, watched you give a small wave and a friendly, respectful curtsy before leaving.

Then he asked you to bring yourself a cup the next night, to sit with him.

Since it was Captain Levi, you couldn’t refuse.

Of course you were a bit intimidated - had you been doing something wrong? Was he going to fire you? But the man had said few words, just sipped his tea, watched as you blew at your own steaming cup.

It was an uncomfortable affair, at least for you, so it was surprising to you that he kept asking you to sit with him.

You start to see him often, more often than you previously had.  He lingers in the mess hall, taking meals at the high ranks tables, and you always feel his eyes on you when you bring out more food to place on the buffet-style tables at the front. You often found him heading for seconds when you were adding food to the table, and he often said hello in his gruff, curt way.

Captain Levi was seen patrolling the area near the staff barracks, checking windows, checking doors, making sure everything was proper and safe. You could feel his presence, see his shadow sometimes when he passed by the window.

Between mealtimes, when you weren’t washing dishes or helping to prepare for the next meal, you were allowed breaks. You spent these breaks reading, or taking short walks along the inside of the garrison walls. It spooked you when you began seeing Levi nearby, apparently deciding to train the cadets near your common reading spots, or sometimes appearing suddenly during one of your walks.

He’d walk with you, not uttering a word, just strolling beside you in silence. You didn’t try to speak - he didn’t seem to be looking for conversation, simply companionship. And his presence, while unsettling, wasn’t entirely unwelcome - you knew that Captain Levi was one of the most capable fighters in the Survey Corps, and no Titan nor human would be able to hurt you unless he allowed it.

Despite his bitter demeanor, it was easy to see how much Levi cared for his underlings well-being. Always trying to make sure they were safe, risking his own life for them, pushing them to the brink and beyond during training so he could ensure that they could defend themselves during an attack.

The awkward tea-time turned into small chats, were Levi asked you about your home, your hobbies, your likes and dislikes.

Surprisingly, Levi didn’t shy away from answering when you yourself asked the same questions.

You became privy to his rough upbringing, the tragedy of his mother, the few friends he had made and lost.

The more the two of you talked, the more you understood his rough exterior, why he was cynical and brusque and mean.

But he became softer with you.

You weren’t sure when comfortable companionship, tentative friendship, had turned into unpleasant touches, quiet confessions, time spent together that you began to loathe and tried to avoid.

But some part of you understood, and felt bad.

Levi had never known someone in an intimate sense. Not like this, not like you. He could force you to submit to him, it could be an ordeal of tears and blood and despair for both of you, but if you went along with his whims willingly, the both of you were spared the pain.

Yes, you experienced discomfort, and unease, and you weren’t entirely happy about some of the things Levi asked of you, but you knew the man was tired, and hurting, and desperate for soft words and kind touches.

The man had wanted simple favors at first. A touch here, a light brush of his hand on your shoulder or a lingering caress of your hand if it rested on the table. Then it was sitting closer together, letting him brush your hair away from your face, his hand finding a home on the plush skin of your thigh as you two talked.

Then it was his late-night confessions, when he kept you past curfew, after the tea cups had long been dry. He told you how he wanted…. You. He wasn’t sure what it was that he needed, but it had to be from you.

He would take it, force it from you, whether it was sex or feelings or some twisted desire. He could, and both of you knew that he had the skills to completely subdue you.

But you caved immediately, feeling like a crumb of bread in the face of a raven.

Satisfied with your answer, the man had taken you that night, slowly peeled off your clothes and laid you on his bed like a lover. He had noticed your trembling, the tears clouding your vision, and he could tell this wasn’t something that you wanted to willingly give to him.

But he took anyway.

He had never allowed himself to be selfish, to want things for himself, to afford thinking thoughts of a loving partner, kindness and gentle treatment with his rude and brash personality.

Levi had made it good for you - he had bedded women before, to sate his physical desires when they so rarely arose. But with you, unlike those other women, he wanted you to stay in his life, be there for him when he craved the sweetness you provided in your tea, in your body, in you. He wanted you to be his constant, the person he could turn to, always.

And so you where.

You were when he pulled you into his quarters at odd hours, just to share heated kisses and let his hands wander across your flesh.

At times when he was frustrated, angry, and needed a rough fuck to find his calm again.

Whenever Levi needed to feel the heat of another’s body, to experience pleasure and love and feelings of warmth and desire, you were the person he turned to.

It’s why he turned to you now.

“I’d like to hold you.” It was more of a command, an order, than a question.

Shuffling on the bed, you scooted back so he could sit down, so he could gently push your shoulders so you fell back onto the pillows. The man crawled closer, flopping down beside you with a tired, wretched sigh, one that made your bones ache in sympathy.

You were so used to the Captain taking what he wanted, you didn’t even cringe when an arm was slung over your chest, grabbing you, pulling you close to him. He buried his face in your neck, throwing a leg over your hip and an arm over your waist, completely plastering himself to your side.

The sounds of your breathing filled the room - your uneasy, disturbed rhythm accompanying his rapid, shuddering breaths.

It was only when wetness smear across your neck, did you realize that the man was crying.

You knew how that could feel, lungs burning, shoulders aching, heart squeezed and deadened in your chest. How you longed for comfort, for someone to hold you and soothe the pain.

So you tentatively drew your own hand around his slim shoulders, your other hand rising to play with a strand of thin hair, drawing him closer to you.

In some twisted, pathetic turn, you felt sorry for the man.

Sorry that he felt such pain, such anguish. Sorry that so much responsibility rested on his shoulders. The responsibility of keeping his soldiers alive, of protecting humanity, of fighting in life-or-death situations where he was forced to watch his comrades be torn to shreds. Sorry that he was stressed, that the world had beaten him down and never allowed him a quiet, easy life.

Most of all, you think you were sorry that he asked things of you that you weren’t comfortable in answering.

How do you tell a killing machine no? How does one go about turning away a sad, lost soul looking for company and warmth? How would you live with yourself if you put your own comfort higher than a man who was so integral to the continuation of humanity’s existence?

You could deal with the gross feelings in order to be of service.

It always surprised you, how a man so interested in cleanliness could make you feel so dirty.

Considerable time passed before Levi’s shaky, silent sobs evolved into normal breathing. He had cried his tears, let his sadness overflow in the safety of your arms.

Now he was content to hold you, to grip your form with such intensity that you were sure you’d have bruises along your waist.

You feel asleep like that, his arms tight around you, trapping your body close to his, making you feel every rise and fall of his chest, every steady beat of his heart.

——-

You woke up to movement.

It was still night, it must be, with the lit candles still burning at the bedside.

Levi was slowly grinding against you, his leg still slung over your hip, hard length rubbing against your stomach. You could feel a tiny hint of wetness seeping through your shirt, meaning Levi must’ve been at this a while to have leaked enough to soak through not only his own pants, but your shirt as well.

“(Y/N)…” He breathed, noticing you had stirred awake. A breathy sigh escaped the man, before his hips stopped moving. “Suck me off.”

Still half-asleep and blinking your eyes, you only managed to look at your captain, dazed.

A slow smile spread across his face as he took in your sleepy expression, but then he nudged your side again, insistent. “Suck me off, you got me all hard and now I’ve ruined my pants.”

As if it were fault that he was like this.

Finally registering his request, you moved down the bed to the man’s crotch, helping him shimmy off his sleep pants and underwear as you did so.

His cock wasn’t girthy, nor particularly long. It was pretty though, with a flushed tip, a pale base, and fat, firm balls underneath.

Without further ado, you set your mouth on him, gathering spit to slicken his length (not that you needed to, not with how much the man had leaked) before slowly making your way down. Drawing back a bit, you sucked at the crown,  cringing a bit at how Levi’s entire cock twitched, the man drawing in a sharp inhale.

He was particularly sensitive there, just under the head, so you flicked your tongue against that spot a few times, heard him hiss in pleasure, before slurping back down along his length, taking him as far down your throat as you could manage.

Levi couldn’t help the rocking of his hips, the twitches of his cock. “Touch my balls (Y/N), please.”

You were surprised to hear him say please. He only offered such niceties when he was in a vulnerable, soft mood.  His balls were plump, round, full to bursting with sperm. The skin was velvety soft as your rubbed at it, massaging the mounds with your palms, before rubbing over them quickly with the tips of your fingers.

Levi groaned, a hand clutching at the strands of your hair to anchor himself.

It was an uncomfortable feeling. You never liked when he touched you, and you never enjoyed touching him, but you bore it with no complaint, let him do as he pleased without a fight. Submission was easier.

His cock kept pulsing in your mouth, making you gag and choke around his length, which only seemed to draw him more pleasure. Despite the discomfort, you still did your best, hollowing your cheeks out to suck, hard.

Levi’s hips bucked up unexpectedly, hitting the back of your throat so quickly that you almost threw up with the intensity, immediately pulling off of his length with a hacking cough.

You let it rest against your cheek as you regained your breath, feeling it drool and twitch as if it were alive and hungry.

Levi let you rest; he knew you’d take him back into your mouth in a second, always eager to obey him.

And you did, sucking him with renewed vigor. The taste of his cock wasn’t entirely unpleasant, Levi kept himself clean and trimmed, so there was only the slightest hint of natural musk, but that was easily overwhelmed by the bitter taste of soap and the salty taste of sweat and skin.

Then Levi tugged your hair a bit, drawing your attention away from his cock and up to his face. “Slow down, I don’t want to cum too soon.”

He was in the mood to draw this out it seemed. You eased up on the suction of your cheeks, letting your cheeks go with a smacking sound. Apparently that felt good, since Levi sighed, rolling his head back to rest on the pillows.

The picture of relaxed pleasure.

Going slower now, you paused to let his length slip out of your mouth, giving the sides long, sensual licks, digging your tongue into the slit at the top.

You’d suck him back into your mouth, swirling your tongue around his length, before popping off again, this time going for his well-groomed balls, slathering them with spit as you lapped at the skin.

Eventually, you grew tired, your jaw sore. It’s not like you wanted to do this in the first place, but now you were physically feeling ache-y.

Taking him into your mouth one last time, you dug deep, sucking vigorously at his length, drawing him down your throat, trying to get him to the edge as quick as you could.

And it worked, because the next thing you knew, a spurt of cum hit your tongue.

With a gag at the taste, you whipped your head back, Levi’s cock falling out of your mouth. But with his grip still in your hair, he kept your head close, watching his cum stripe across your face with satisfaction.

Levi was breathing heavily, almost panting as he finished, and you were glad you had closed your eyes - you didn’t want to see the look on his face, eyes filled with an emotion you didn’t want to label.

At least he was kind afterwards, helped you clean it up.

His tea was still sitting on the nightstand, long gone cold. Levi offered you a sip still, and you readily accepted the liquid, soothing your throat

When you settled down again, face now washed and free of cum, Levi once again pulled you close to him. This time, his chin rested atop your head, his hands cradling your head to his chest.

You felt gentle vibrations as he hummed softly, and you internally thanked him for small mercies - not having you strip tonight, not fucking you, not making you feel good.

There was such guilt when he pleasured you. How could something unwanted feel so good? There must be something wrong with you, to get off on his ministrations.

It was easier for you to not dwell on those feelings.

Easier to just lay in Levi’s arms, and listen to the beat of his heart.

#levi ackerman #yandere levi #yandere Levi Ackerman #levi x reader #captain levi #dark levi #levi aot #dark aot #tw Dubcon #yandere #levi heichou #idk tags lol #Yandere aot #yandere attack on titan #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #ackerman

[razrbladekiss]

Tyrants | Chapter Three - Presage

WORD COUNT: 2.4k

WARNINGS: Brief mentions of Wendy’s drug use. Nothing explicitly *bad* goes on here, just some of the usual SOA shit is hinted at. :) Tig <3

MASTERLIST

Ninety degrees was horrendous. Ninety-six degrees saw Isla spiraling toward a fully-fledged mental breakdown, desperate to climb out of her own fucking flesh and melt into the parking lot outside of St. Thomas.

Seeing the Sons sporting leathers, hoodies, and long-sleeved shirts underneath their cuts made her skin crawl, too.

She'd thrown on the flounciest summer dress she owned, thin and wispy, and she was still roasting to death underneath the Californian sunshine.

It felt like they were living in the fucking ass-crack of hell.

Though, with their current state and Charming's infestation of ATF and other federal agents, hell wasn't too far off the mark.

"Thanks for the ride." Isla expressed her gratitude as she slid off of the back of Tig's bike, pulling the helmet away from loose blonde curls.

"No problem, baby--you good to get home, yeah?"

"Yeah. I'm meeting Gem here, so she'll take me back to T M in time to pick my car up," she confirmed, readjusting herself.

She couldn't risk Tig Trager getting an eyeful of her asscheeks today. Not again, anyway.

"Perfect. See 'ya later, beautiful." Isla leaned in for him to peck her cheek--which was habitual for the pair--and she did the same.

Her smile was wide. She was beaming. "Bye, Tiggy. I love you."

"Love you too, kid." He reciprocated the smile, squeezing her hand as she broke away and padded toward the steps, brushing her fingers through wind-tousled strands.

Things were, for the first time in about a week, finally looking up. Resuming a sense of normality, perhaps.

She and Trager had been on precarious terms since that day, and had been avoiding one another altogether. Which, for them, was strange.

Days went by without even so much as a word being uttered between the pair, no backhanded comments, or even sideways glances.

Usually, they'd be bickering like kids, arguing nonsensically until Clay or Chibs broke them apart--but it was all just their little bit of fun. Because they bounced off of one another.

They lauded the relationship they shared because, really, it was one of the strongest.

He'd been her official favorite since the very day that they met--he and Bobby were the two she liked to talk to whenever she felt that she couldn't confide in her father.

But the last few days were so fucking hard. She was struggling with the weight of all that she did, coupled with the stress of not being able to discern Tig's current feelings on her.

And after she'd lashed out, had bitched at him for no fucking reason, she was pretty certain that Tiggy didn't want to know anymore.

That was thrown out of the window this morning, however, when Isla's clutch blew out, and she needed a ride from the garage to the hospital to see Abel.

Of course Tig was there for her. He always would be.

"Hey." Isla spoke softly as she held the little blue bear close to her chest. "I stopped by the gift shop on the way up here--Jax said he's already got bears and balloons comin' outta his ass, so I thought what's one more?"

Gemma couldn't help but smile, gesturing for the blonde to sit with her opposite Abel's isolette.

"He'll love you for it," she joked, though she knew that she was appreciative. For her company more so the stuffed animal.

With their commitment to the club and the current battle against the ATF, Jax and Clay weren't as hands on as what they usually would've liked.

Of course, Teller was at that baby's side whenever he got the chance to break away from SAMCRO, but he wanted more. He wanted the satisfaction of knowing that his little boy was being provided with the best possible care at St. Thomas.

And he was. He absolutely was. But he needed to know--for his own peace of mind, he needed to see that. So, his mother was there every waking fucking moment, giving him that love he could only get from his Grandma.

"How's he doing?" Her query was braided around a whisper, worried she'd disturb Abel's peaceful rest. "Jax said he should be coming home soon."

Gemma simply affirmed with a nod, gazing affectionately at her grandson.

It was heartwarming to see so much love, so much adoration from a woman who had a reputation for being a fucking cunt--thus proving that Gemma's main priority was her family, and their health and happiness.

That, somehow, made Isla love her even more than what she already did.

It also made her a tad jealous of Jax and the fact that he still had his mother in his life.

"He's gettin' stronger and stronger everyday. Tara said he'll be set to leave Friday--"

"Tara?" Her brow lifted as she put the bear amongst the pile of gifts. "I thought she was a doctor, I didn't think she had anything to do with the babies?"

Gemma's smile faltered a little. "She's a pediatric surgeon. Been takin' care of Abel since the start."

"Oh."

Now, she would've known that if she'd taken the time to visit her best friend's kid since he was born. But she hadn't--she hadn't even considered taking a trip over to St. Thomas to check in on Jax's baby.

And it was for the simple fucking reason that she couldn't bear the thought of facing Wendy and having to be nice to her. Especially after what she fucking did to that poor little boy.

She subsequently landed her own flesh and blood in the hospital after shooting heroin while pregnant? And she wanted Jax to pardon her for it?

Isla wasn't a hateful person, she didn't care about what people did in their spare time because that was their time.

But the moment an innocent person was harmed due to the carelessness of others...That was when she felt a scathing animosity.

"She's good with him." Gemma stated bitterly, snapping Isla from her ire-fueled daydream. "Kills me to say it, but she's a gem. A real fuckin' star."

"I'd bet. She was always good with kids."

"Yeah?" Suddenly interested, the older woman crossed over her arms. "Who's kids?"

Finally, Isla took a seat beside her on top of plush blue leather.

"A few of the girls we were in high school with had kids pretty young and Tara was usually super keen to hold them, or just hang out at their places whenever we weren't at school. Or it could've just been the wannabe doctor in her, now that I think about it."

"She's pretty maternal," Isla hummed in agreement, "but I'm glad she and Jax never had kids when you were teenagers--I don't know how that would've looked for him."

Suddenly, she was staring at Gemma like she had two fucking heads.

"I don't trust her." She elaborated, drawing another confused glance from Isla. "She and Jax would have been a fucking disaster had she stayed--"

"And things worked out so much better with Wendy?" A little more vehemently than intended, the blonde asked.

Now Gemma was the one shooting dirty looks.

"Look, Gem, I'm just saying. Jax and Tara are history now, yeah? You don't have to trust her. Just thank her for what she's doing for your grandson because when he's outta this place, you won't need to worry about her."

"And you're so sure about that, huh?" Skeptically, she asked. Arms folded over. "You know what they're like--like two fucking magnets or something. They always find a way back to one another."

That line gutted her.

It hurt her--it was agonizing--but she wasn't sure why she was so beaten by it. Because it was the truth, wasn't it?

Tara and Jax were, at one point, the strongest couple she'd ever known, and when it fizzled out he was fucking broken. She hadn't seen him so downtrodden since JT had passed, and he was suddenly left without the strength and guidance of his father.

She was his everything. Isla was a fool to think he'd be able to see her back in Charming and not feel something for her. His first love.

"I think we should throw Abel a homecoming party on Friday--if he's coming home then, that is." Gemma shifted the topic of conversation, getting to her feet.

"Absolutely. I'll help."

"Yeah?" She asked a little doubtingly, reaching over to pick Abel up. "You don't have to--I know you work Friday's."

Isla waved her off, standing beside the brunette. "I do, but it's no bother. If everyone's gonna be there, then I wanna show my face too. Offer a helping hand of some sort."

"Alright, perfect," Gem stated softly, holding the baby close to her chest. "When we get back to T M, we can figure out what we need to get."

"Sounds like a plan--" Isla was cut off by a soft knocking at the door, irritating her a little bit because she'd only just gotten there and hated the idea of having to leave already.

She made a mental note to stop by a little earlier tomorrow.

"Hey, sorry to bother you--" Tara stopped herself when she needed her estranged friend, almost dropping the clipboard she was holding against her chest.

Isla Telford was the last fucking person she expected to see today.

"Hey," with a fake smile, she greeted.

The tension was palpable.

Gemma felt the irritation washing over her favorite of the duo, urging her to turn her attention back toward her grandson before she said anything to worsen the situation.

Because she would've.

"Uh, I've gotta run a few tests on Abel before we determine that he'll be ready to leave this week, if that's alright?" Tara gestured to Gemma, ignoring Isla's presence.

That stung a little bit.

"Yeah. It's fine." The response was blunt. Terse, to a point.

"Great."

Isla realized that she wasn't wanted in that space any longer. She grabbed her purse, turning toward the door. "I'll meet you outside."

"Yeah, alright," Gemma put the baby back into his crib, smiling at Isla. "You want my keys?"

"I'll wait on the steps--I'm gonna smoke--"

"Before you go," Tara cut in. She cleared her throat, trying to smile--but she just couldn't.

Telford sensed where it was going, however. There wasn't a reason for her to stop Isla in her tracks, in front of Gemma no less.

She wondered how long it'd take for it to be brought up.

"Thanks."

Gratitude genuinely swept over the doctor, letting Isla know she was truthful in her acknowledgment--or, was it more like a form of praise? Because Jax definitely told Tara what they both did for her, and she was astounded that the woman would even float the idea of helping out.

It was a strange notion. To know what she did--when she looked and acted like that--was fucking weird. And nobody would've believed her if she said that Isla helped to dispose of a dead body, which did make her laugh a little.

She knew how to hold, load, and fire a pistol, but she wasn't capable of committing the unspeakable the same way that Jax, or Chibs, or Clay were capable of it.

But she was slowly earning her title as 'Daughter of Sgt. At Arms/ Man of Mayhem.' And she wasn't sure how she liked that.

"You're welcome," she spoke plainly. "Hope everything is alright now, Tara."

"It is."

"Good." Her retort was immediate, laced with that same genuineness the other woman expressed. "You free this coming friday?"

Hesitantly, she nodded.

"If all goes to plan--and Abel is good to come home--we're gonna throw a little party for the boy," Gemma confirmed with a nod. "You wanna swing by? Everyone'll be there--Donna, Ope, their kids, Wendy, the rest of the Sons. You should come. It'll be nice for everyone to see 'ya again."

Wendy's name falling from those pink lips, in such a positive light, maimed Isla. She and Jax were starting to get along a little bit better now, but she was still wary of that woman.

"Yeah. It'll be great," the older woman added.

Tara felt cornered. She knew that she wasn't really wanted, and she also knew that was a way for Isla and her menopausal best friend--old enough to be her fuckin' mom--to keep the doctor as close as possible without explicitly saying that they wanted to keep an eye on her.

"Sure. I'll stop by."

"Brilliant." Gemma conceded, slipping past the pair. "Address hasn't changed, sweetheart."

It was passive aggressive, sickly-sweet, and it was Gemma to a fucking T. The woman was loathing every second she had to spend with Tara Knowles and she wasn't even trying to hide it.

But it didn't have to be for very long, she thought.

"What was that all about? Why'd she thank you?" Gem queried as they got outside, passing the lighter to her left.

"For not breaking her fucking neck when I had the chance to all those years ago, probably."

Isla sparked her cigarette, pacing alongside her as they headed toward the car.

"That's bullshit."

"How so?"

"Just is." She could read Chibs's little girl like a fucking book. "But I won't press--if it's something between you and Tara, I don't care to hear. Just lemme know if it goes south. I can put a bullet in her for you, baby."

Isla would've laughed had she not known that Gemma was deadly fucking serious about blowing Tara's brains out.

But it was a relief. For her to give it up just like that--uncharacteristically so--was a kind of relief that she never thought she'd feel from Gemma Teller.

She was used to being protected. Used to being viewed as the one that needed to be shielded from the horrors that shrouded the Sons. But Isla wasn't innocent, nor was she fucking stupid.

The security was appreciated, however. Because, lately, things just didn't seem to be going too great for her.

And, if she'd learned anything, they'd only worsen from here on out.

"You don't have to go full mama bear mode, Gem. I'm a big girl."

She laughed, turning to face Isla.

"I know," smoke blew from her nose, "but you've gotta protect the ones you wanna keep close, y'know? The ones you love."

The tip of Gemma's boot pulverized her cigarette into the sidewalk as she fished for the car keys, avoiding eye contact all together.

"I haven't been able to protect everyone I've wanted to from the shit that goes on in this town, honey, but I'm really tryin'. And I couldn't live with myself if anything happened to you or my boy."

#tig trager #tig trager fic #tig trager fanfiction #sons of anarchy fic #sons of anarchy fanfiction #sons of anarchy fandom #jax teller x oc #sons of anarchy #jax teller fanfiction #jax teller

[softer-ua]

I have no idea what Bakugou would have done if Izuku died in the sludge Villain accident. They had a lot of strong unresolved emotions, I just can't fully visualize it, the only thing I have clear is him trying to latch onto anger, but that would burn out fast because the Villian was trapped and the heroes did their thing (Winning, which at that point he believed everything was) so I don't know what would he do. Sooo...could you please give us your insight? Please :D

I’d love to give my insight! Thank you for asking!!!🥰

It would depend on which sludge incident, the one where Deku ran to save Katsuki or the one where Deku was on his own? 🤔 I’ve got ideas on both lol

Buckle up this is gonna be a long one, and it’s not a fun ride

For the first I think Katsuki would latch onto anger and be a self hating righteous little monster for the rest of eternity. Because obviously he’s never getting therapy.

If he can blame himself for AM’s retirement and his parents can blame him for getting kidnapped than I have zero doubt the Entire Bakugo family would blame Katsuki for Dekus death. That family loves to victim blame, and Mitsuki would have a field day with chart topping world’s lowest blows like

If Katsuki hadn’t been hanging out in an alley and had gone straight home the villain wouldn’t have got him

If Katsuki hadn’t just been randomly blasting the heros wouldn’t have had to divert their attention to the fire

If Katsuki hadn’t been so weak(what’s the point of that flashy quirk if you can’t even save yourself)

Going with him to make him apologize to Inko (trying to imagine this feels like my brains touching a hot stove, it would be a thousand times more horrible and scarring than being forced to apologize to his Idol and teach for being kidnapped)

If hs Katsuki didn’t have the tools to block out his mother and broke down over a 50 year old man retiring, then poor ms Katsuki doesn’t stand a chance against being forced to bare the blame in someone’s actual death, especially not Dekus. Plus whatever destructive aftermath Katsuki created.

Did you have to blow up the entire alley way??

Katsuki would also never stop blaming those heros, even if the villain was captured they lost what really mattered, Dekus life.

They should have stopped the villain before Deku ever showed up

They should have never let Deku cross the line

They should have saved him

I think his fear of being weak would have been magnified by 10000. And it wouldn’t be a stretch for me to believe that witnessing that kind of hero failure so personally would be his villain origin. But even if it wasn’t, I think 10 months of stewing in grief, rage and self hate at such a young age would leave some very permanent scars

He’d habitually train to the point of self harm(reminder to check in on your fitness bros)

He’d never ever let someone close to him again (he didn’t want Deku close to him in the first place and look at how bad it hurt anyway)

He wouldn’t give a shit about any heros opinion anymore, if it’s not about how he can get stronger than any would be mentor can fuck off

His ego would have taken a massive hit, he’s no longer trying to prove he’s the best

Instead he’s insuring it because he’s never losing anyone again

Even with that in mind I think the sports festival actually would have gone a lot calmer because he no longer gives a shit about showing off, he’s just fighting to test himself and Dekus the one who pushed Todoroki to the point anyone even knew he had a fire side(I always wonder how much longer Aizawa was gonna let that go on for) so he’d except his medal quietly so it’s possible the lov would never have tried to recruit him

I think he’d be a lot more proactive in helping his classmates get stronger

Just not in a cute tsundere way anymore, but in a “if you can’t keep up with me I will keep attempting to murder you until you drop out” way, because B List heros are not allowed to be a thing anymore

Eventually he would grow up to be the top hero and he revels in that victory by hating himself, his job, his coworkers, his family, and everyone and everything else. The best part of his days are the adrenaline highs and that’s not even a happy high, in a bad headspace it just makes you ansty and aggressive, still better than being a hallow husk of resentments

I wouldn’t be surprised if he eventually did kill a fellow pro for not meeting his standards. Depending on what the hero did to earn his ire would shape wether he went on to be the new hero killer or simply stopped being a hero himself in custody or more permanently

Now if the villain had instead been captured after being caught hiding in Dekus flesh suit things would have been very different than the above

Katsuki would definitely be traumatized at this news, so would most of their class and they’d probably do some kind of memorial deal, and over the course of a couple of days Katsuki would slowly descend into madness at watching his class act like they have ever given a single fuck about Deku

Then he would speedball into it, because how dare they grieve over him, non of them deserve to especially not him

He’d be angry for as long as he could, at himself and everyone else, but eventually that’d putter out without anyone stoking the fire, no one else blames his class for feeling sad and no one blames the heros for not existing on every single possible street corner

Maybe he makes it through UA. He’s not as hot head, not as naive, but teens hold grudges like no other, he can be mad at the world a little longer.

Throws himself into the work so he doesn’t have time to think. He’s going to be the best because Deku always believed he would be and if he’s not allowed to be sad than this will be his only way to honor the nerds memory.

But the thing about pain is that it demands to be felt.

Eventually his regrets and grief would come for him, in a year or in ten years doesn’t matter they will eventually claim the time and space they need with interest.

He’d probably meet his regrets first so that he can be mad at himself for a little longer

He should have let Deku be

If he hadn’t held Deku up after class maybe he’d have made it home

His last words play on loop growing distorted and more malicious as the years go on(fun fact about memory ! It’s easily manipulated because each time you remember something you’re actually just remembering the last time you remembered the thing! Basically your brain reconstructs the memory completely each time! Fuck it up once and it’s all down hill)

He regrets not ensuring that he’d have more than his flimsy memories to hold onto Deku with, he never realized he’d want to, never could fully conceive that he’d actually have to.

He should have been kinder

He should have been less of a coward and faced his own insecurities

He should have talked to Deku about so many things

He can’t just focus on what he did and didn’t do forever tho, eventually he’ll have to recognize the hole Deku left behind, his regrets will paint the picture of his grief

Maybe he forgets the exact date of Dekus birthday but he knows it was in the summer, he regrets not going to his last one and grieves never going to a next one.

He regrets not going to the funeral, of course he was sad, he’d been an idiot to think he couldn’t be

He regrets not visiting Dekus grave, and grieves over how long he’s been gone now

He regrets that he had to learn what the value of saving is by having lost, god how he grieves that loss

Without Deku Kaminari never hears that nickname, Kacchan died with Deku. He grieves over never hearing it again

He wonders if Dekus hanging out with Kacchan wherever he is, he wonders if this makes him crazy.

He grieves over Deku dying so young, so alone, so horribly. It gives him nightmares, he can’t imagine the pain of having all his organs crushed down from the inside, and yet he’s some how intimately aware of its possibility. He debates looking for the autopsy results, maybe if he confirms it was asphyxiation and not internal blunt trauma the nightmares will stop. But you don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to.

He grieves over the dreams Deku never got to chase, and regrets ever playing a part in taking away the happiness a dream is supposed to have

He grieves over the Deku shaped hole in his life that seemed to grow with him despite only ever getting to know the knobby knees version, he can’t help but think with every achievement and milestone “you should be here”

He doesn’t hate his life, it just feels half lived.

Without Deku pushing his buttons and no god complex shaped alarm bells people were slower to reach out to him.

Without Deku to vouch for his good qualities people were a lot more hesitant to see them.

He still did make friends it’s just a shallower connection and he doesn’t make time for them

He becomes top hero but the victory feels hallow like there should have been more of a fight for it. Maybe he is crazy but it feels like it should have been Deku fighting him for it.

His saves are legendary and numerous, he’s never able to shake the feeling that there’s someone out there who needs him just around the corner

Between the nightmares and the anxiety clocking off gives him he probably gets less sleep than any hero before him, even Aizawa.

It was a short career

#softy answers #tw child death #tw child abuse #tw selfhate #tw grief #idk what else to tag #let me know if there’s any I should put up #I like talking about heavy topics but I want to help keep bnha a fun space for everyone #I am so sorry about how long I made this #I’m on mobile and idk how to make it do the read more thing

[futuresafe]

@freshsteel​ said: Please write your essay on Osiris I Will read it and that is a threat

@stormlord67​ said: I wish to hear about the Osiris brainrots and info.

@salt216000​​ said: Tell us your thoughts about Osiris I dare you

Did you ever hear the tragedy of Osiris, Warden of the Infinite Forest? I thought not. It’s not a story the Vanguard would tell you...

alright alright alright

i have A LOT of thoughts about osiris so buckle up, i’m gonna be going over A LOT starting at the beginning to the end of his exile (also i won’t be talking much about immolant because it makes me too sad when i’m already sad about him for other reasons)

I want to talk about this phrase I often use in regards to Osiris first. “Exile as a state of mind.”

EXILE AS A STATE OF MIND.

So like. The thing about Osiris is that time moves faster in the Infinite forest than it does outside of it. And from what I've been able to gather In Real Time he's only been exiled for about 40 at the least, 200 at most, whereas for him it's been hundreds, if not thousands, of years. All that time he's been exiled, all that time he's come to accept that fact, that there is no last city to fall back on whenever he needs to. That there was no one to rely on, not truly. That he had to fight this war against the Vex alone. That it was Him and Only Him.

So it becomes a state of mind.

Worse yet, it's a title, one that he still uses despite no longer being exiled. (Read in One Exile to Another, and a few of the Hunt Armor loretabs.) so there's a disconnect between him and the people he loves because he is still exiled in his mind, he does not have anyone to rely on other than himself. Exile, not as a state of being, but a state of mind, because he can no longer think how it will be otherwise.

Exile, as a state of mind, because if he accepts that he is no longer exiled, then what? Who will he be? He won’t be a Commander, he won’t be the Hero of Six Fronts, he won’t be any of that, he’ll be stuck as Osiris.

And Osiris is a terribly lonely man.

Let’s also consider what Osiris’s exile was like in the first place. How it really took place, not through the skewed lens of The Fall of Osiris comic or through the biased perspective of Osiris’s journals.

Consensus Meeting 2891.98

NM: "I note for the record that we are without a Warlock Vanguard or a Vanguard Commander." Andal Brask: "Two birds, one man." Zavala: "Ikora Rey is interim Warlock Vanguard for this meeting." Speaker: "Which brings us to our first order of business. Ikora Rey, the Consensus formally requests you assume the responsibilities of Warlock Vanguard." Ikora Rey: "Considering I've been performing those responsibilities for a while now, I accept." FWC: "Why did you cover for him for so long?" IR: "Someone had to do it." S: "Ahem. Now that we have Consensus, I may inform you I have decided to banish former Warlock Vanguard Osiris from the Last City." [murmurs] S: "Are there any objections?" DO: "None here. Maybe he'll find a better planet for us." [pause] S: "Very well. Next: I name Titan Vanguard Zavala as the new Vanguard Commander. Congratulations." (Curse of Foresight)

It was so casual and no one stood up for him. It was a unanimous decision. It’s no wonder Osiris has so much trouble reaching out for help. Last time he did he was exiled, last time he did everyone he cared about turned their backs on him, Saint wasn’t exempt from this. He must have felt some sense of betrayal from this. And it stuck with him.

GOD IN THE MACHINE.

This one’s a much more subtle thing and based upon observations but I do want to talk about how terrifyingly close Osiris was to, essentially, godhood.

There was a quote in Destiny 1 at some point when you’re hunting down Oryx, I can’t seem to find the exact quote on Ishtar, but it was something along the lines of “In order to be a god you must have eyes everywhere.”

Osiris has a lot of eye imagery.

Another way Osiris was close to godhood is that he had the ability to make echoes. There’s only one other character in Destiny who was able to do that. You guessed it: Oryx (albeit he used Darkness instead of Light to do it but the sentiment remains.)

Additionally, let’s not forget that Destiny tends to play on character’s names whenever their names come from something of power. Toland commented upon Eris’s name being a name of chaos reflecting that she’s named after the Chthonic Goddess, Eris. And Osiris being named Osiris, an Egyptian God of death, well... Need I say more?

Osiris can manipulate the Light in ways we didn’t even know was possible, from using multiple Light elements at once to creating Reflections and Echoes, to creating a ward of Light in a way we haven’t seen Warlocks do. Not only that but Osiris had an entire planet under his control, a Vex machine that no one person should be able to control and he had it at the tips of his fingers.

He was scary close to godhood. And I don’t think he realizes it.

FAITH.

Another aspect of Osiris I’d like to touch upon is his relationship with faith.

Osiris has a very distinctly different view of these things in Destiny, and it’s something that’s now painted as a good thing. It’s good to question why you fight, good to question why you exist. Osiris questions everything and while there’s a few jabs made at him about it (mostly they come from how he was viewed before Curse of Osiris) it ultimately doesn’t state that Osiris’s questions are bad. In fact I’d go so far as to say they were vindicating.

BUT. This raises my thoughts on his faith, on how it’s served him. We know that Saint-14 has a lot of faith, both in people and in the Traveler, and it’s interesting to me to see the dichotomy of that vs. Osiris’s views.

There was an idle line he had in Season of Dawn, in where he said "I thought you had broken the Red Legion... I see faith has failed me yet again..."

What has faith gotten him? Abandonment. Exile. Losing Saint.

They have a silent god hanging above them in the city, and what has it done for them? The Traveler was not at Six Fronts, the Traveler was not at Twilight Gap, the Traveler did not stop the Vex, and the Traveler certainly didn't save Saint. Rotted faith, eroded to bitterness.

The light is a weapon because if it weren't then would it not act? Would it not save humanity? Why wouldn't it save him? Why would he suffer so much?

So he is mad at god.

The best quote I remember about his Relationship with the Traveler is him saying that the Traveler's death was a gift in that there are now Guardians, but also they only have the problems they have now is because the Traveler came there, bringing its enemies to their shores.

He questions the Light because while it’s their greatest weapon, it is also the source of humanity's grief

The Traveler holds their chains. (Freedom is a chain, choice is a prison.)

“I have questioned the Light before, and I continue to question it today. But skepticism is not the same as disavowal. The Light is one of our greatest resources.” — Transmission from Osiris

#my posts #hello lgbt community #osiris #osiris destiny #destiny osiris

[darkwingsofimagination]

I have lots of thoughts and feelings about Madre Solo Hay Dos, and this post is an attempt to express it. Since I'm posting through the android app I can't use the keep reading option, so SPOILER ALERT IN CASE YOU HAVE NOT WATCHED MADRE SOLO HAY DOS YET.

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So, when I began watching I couldn't find a trailer or a teaser, was relying solely on the small synopsis Netflix gave - which honestly was the best thing for me.

It also meant that at fisrt I was really surprised there was a husband at all not to mention two older kids in Ana's life, but I grew up watching enough mexican telenovelas to know that one way or another things would work out (I surely hoped so). But I liked how the story unraveled.

I was also VERY SURPRISED by Mariana and Elena's relationship because I definitely wasn't expecting Mariana to actually be with a woman before falling for Ana.

Juan Carlos cheating on Ana was both expected and utterly irritating (how could he do that when he had such an amazing wife and family?) And it cannot be justified by the fact she was controlling and workaholic. It just isn't, I mean he knew that control was how she showed love - he said it in episode two - and knowing he met her in university he must have known she was and would still be career driven. And to me that marriage was in the verge of ending and not just because he cheated, but for how he treated her. Always making her feel bad on focusing on having a successful career. I like him as a father, he is pretty good. But as a husband to her he was an asshole. I mean I could understand him asking her stop working a little to spend some time with the baby, for health and bonding issues, (and in a way she did need some rest) but I can't say I liked him in the first episode, because as soon as I knew he cheated that was it. But I tolerated him, he had some nice moments.

Pablo made me so pissed at him for the way he treated Mariana, specially after she said no to him. Although I didn't see him as being manipulative at first, I do agree he seemed to only want Regina if Mariana would go back to him. Besides, the fact he kept competing against Elena (he didn't see Ana coming at all and I really love that lol) irritated me. To me he was clearly treating Mariana as if she were some prize. As if she came back to him would prove he was better than Elena, that Idk Mariana was only with Elena because he left you know? Like getting her back was just to boost his ego - just my opinions. If he could work on not being an ass to Mariana just because she doesn't want to go back with him and still be in Regina's life and for all that's holy if he finally stops listening to the jerks he calls friends he could be tolerable.

I like Elena, I don't love her though, but I like her pretty much, however telling Mariana that she was just confused about how she felt for Ana was a jerk move. I get it, she is hurt and maybe she feels like getting revenge because what Mariana did to her wasn't nice (I mean, it was pretty clear she let Elena assume they were more than just friends who occasionally kissed) but still doesn't justify it. Honestly, I don't even think she should have told Mariana that she noticed she fell for Ana. Mariana needed to that on her own (which she was almost there if the gay panic on her face while she looked at Ana during their "bonding" ritual for Regina's spiritual reception was any indication). What happens is I think that Elena accepeted that she had lost Mariana to Pablo, and to her ir made sense: he was there first (in the sense he was her previous relationship), he was a man, and she was the first woman Mariana ever was with, so maybe she was trying new things and he is Regina's father, maybe she even thought Mariana was still in love with him on some level (which is even sadder, honestly). But seeing Mariana fall in love with Ana, made her realize that Mariana likes women, that she can fall in love with another woman, she just never fell for Elena. So yeah, if they don't make her into a manipulative bitch she could still be an awesome character - my headcannon is both Elena and Pablo getting their heads out of their asses and helping Mariana win Ana back.

All of the men in Ana's life are stupid.

Juan Carlos doesn't appreciate all the effort she puts in trying to be a business woman, a good mother and wife. Neither does Daniel, her ex, seems like he actually understood her. While he read a bit of his book to her she seemed very unconfortable, just as when he talked about not being able to keep up with her. And like he said, her smile is beautiful, yes (the woman is masterpiece of beauty) but she's way more than that. However her ex did look like a fool in love when he saw her again (which Juan Carlos never does) and I guess that's what drove her to him.

I'll save the best for last, so bear with me just a bit more before getting to Ana and Mariana. Before I'd like to talk about Teresa.

Even if I wish Mariana didn't hide from Ana what happened I do understand her. First Tere (beautiful woman, wich honestly this show just slayed me with so many beautiful women) is her mom and she is kinda manipulative (although I'm sure she sometimes means well most of the times she doesn't think about the consequences of her actions) and I don't know, I think as strong and as independent Mari is, she does want to have a family that gets along and people here in Latin America sometimes get in too much of that "family is blood" bullshit, and not only Latinex but the rest of the world seems pretty adamant in having children listen and forgive their parents and carry on toxic parent-child relationships because "they are your parents", which sucks, but it's true. And not only that as much as Ana feels hurt I don't think she would have believed Mariana if she told her. After all in 20 years Juan Carlos never seemed to show any signs of ever being unfaithful to her. Even if it was the right thing to do, it's not the easiest decision. It wasn't just a relationship of a married couple it would affect but also JC's relationship with the children, because it does change their view of the parent - hence he cutting Ana before she said to the children she cheated on him. And yes Tere is her mother and the thing about parents (and other immeadiate family members) is that even if they screw us up all the time we always feel like we have to stand by them someway, somehow. And (and it's a very unpopular opinion and I'm not sure if I'll manage to get my point across very well but I'll try) I guess Mariana felt guilty for what Tere did, not only for keeping the secret but for her actions as well. Mariana is always trying to fix things with and/or for Tere and I guess she might have felt guilty over bringing Tere into Ana's life, even if she knows it's not her fault anything happened... but guilt is something really weird, so yeah. why I think she feels guilty is because, well, I don't know how it is for other people, but when living with manipulative people they managed to make you feel bad for things you have nothing to feel sorry for, not to mention that her attempts of protecting and trusting her mother comes from a feeling of guilty of not being able to trust her - which is also another thing both Pablo and Teresa want from Mariana without ever giving her reason to and then making her feel bad about not being able to trust them.

And finally, what I thought of Ana and Mariana's relationship.

I love how Ana and Mariana balance each other, I like the age difference as well. I thinks it sends a great message as well, not only with the cliché that you may find lkve whenever, but that no matter how old or how young are life happens and you have to deal with it. Being married and having a stable life didn't stop Ana from having her life turned upside down, and the same with Mariana, in her case it just meant that her mess of life got even crazier but that just it.

I love how the relationship between Mariana and the kids just flows naturally as well. And I love how Mariana does support Ana and shows she is happy for her a lot more than her own husband. Even if they are not married they do act like each other's partners, at least to me.

I feel like their relationship begins to shift at the end of the first episode when they decided to live together - and 'Flotando' by Francisca Valenzuela playing during the scene, to me, it's a very beautiful and subtle way to say to us viewers that we can and should expect more from their relationship.

However the second episode it feels to me like it's fundamental, specially for Ana. They both fell very silently for each other, and without noticing and I think Ana began falling when Mariana not only broke her rules but defied her and told her the truth everyone else was afraid to say - and not only that that bond the girl began forming with both Ceci and Ro. I loved how she was super attentive in listening how Pablo was a jerk and then being super protective of both Mariana and Regina when he began coming around - but I also loved that she relented, albeit reluctantly, when she saw that Mariana really thought Pablo could be of importance to Regina. The fact that Mariana was so worried in making sure Ana approved of him showed more of how much she valued Ana's opinion than whatever she may feel for her ex, which to me was step 1 of Mariana falling for Ana, step 2 was definitely the scene where she makes faces at Valentina just so the baby would smile at Ana and the woman could be a little happier, and sideways hug was the cherry on top - the way she feels uncertain of it before doing was very well thought out and executed.

The scene where Ana introduces Mariana and Regina as her other daughter and Valentina's other mother without explaining further than "we are the mothers of the two babies" was really such a heartfelt moment I just died.

I loved how after those initial moments they were constantly checking on each other (I really do love when Ana goes check on Mariana after her disaster of day with Anuar and she gently tucks Mariana's hair out her face in such a beautiful caress).

The scene in which Ana is shocked about how Mariana's date went is definitely one great indication of the fact she was feeling something more (I mean, saying that if she were a man she would definitely hit on her? That has got to be the oldest play on the book, the famous "I'd kiss you if I weren't straight"). Also on the same episode but before the horrible date, she did ask Mariana to never again say she wasn't attractive, which I also saw as something more, 'cause she was able to read between the lines. Mariana out loud said she wasn't sure about her body, not really saying she didn't feel pretty but one could read it. I think it meant something because Ana seems not that much of an expert reading people, so to be able to be so certain would mean she really paid attention. When Ana said Mariana should try with someone she trusted I think that she wanted it to be hed, even if she didn't realize yet. Or maybe did. In the episode where she takes time off before accepting her promotion there's a scene after she wakes up that Juan Carlos begins to kiss her, clearly intending to have sex (and they did have it) but her face is like "god this is boring/I don't think I really want to" that just makes me think ok, maybe she's already realizing she wants someone else (I had this impression). The episode where they go away and not only Mariana manages to convince everyone to go without being intrusive it's really nice, I also loved how fast Ana embraced everyone else as family for Mariana and Regina. The pool scene, oh my, I melted. First how pissed Ana was to know that Tere got distracted and Mariana almost drowned and how she instantly went after Mariana to chek on her, and not only trying to calm her about the water, listening to her about her fears and at the end asking if she trusted her (like I said before I really think she already wanted Mariana and knew it) and then the way they looked at each other whilst in the pool with the babies. Perfect!

Ana feeding Mariana the baby food was the cutest, and I know she said the girls weren't ready to be parted because she was afraid of she might have cancer I really do think she also meant because she wanted them there (let's not forget the lengths she went to make Mariana stay when Juan Carlos said he thought it was time to get back to normal).

Ana's "Te amo" makes lots of people think it came out of nowhere, but I don't think so. I really do believe she fell in love with Mariana, silently and without even noticing - the lingering gazes and gentle touches are some indication - and while she was drugged and asked Mariana to promise her to take care of the girls and she did I guess it hit her right then and there how much she fell for her and you know, most people do say that when you're drunk or high you tend to do and say the things you really want to because your filter just doesn't work. So yeah, I admit to me it was both unexpected and not at all.

I keep wondering if Mariana would have told Ana that she kissed her had she not told her she needed to do the biopsy to rule out cancer. Either way I love everything about the scene. How grateful Ana is to know that she can count on Mariana and how fearful Mariana looks. I loved that Mariana just stopped everything to accompany Ana to the hospital.

I loved that Mariana never for one second seemed to think of saying yes to Pablo and how even with all of her mother bs she refused to live with them because Ana needs her.

The baptism is the peak. Their bonding ceremony is not only wedding vows worthy but it's also the it finally hits Mariana that she fell for Ana, and I just love the gay panic she clearly has. I love her face of fool in love when Ana goes to her friends and how happy both of them look while holding the girls through the ceremonies.

Even if I'm very grateful for the declaration and the kiss we got - highlight for the lightning of this scene. The way the sun hits them helps give the impression that they will work it our - however Mariana should've processed her feelings first but I get her, she was afraid of losing Ana without a fighting chance - both for not telling and for Ana may having cancer. That scene is as beautiful as it is heartbreaking with both of them so miserable. The ending is one more proof of how well this show knows to pair scenes and songs. Cobarde's lyrics is so perfect it feels like it was made for the scene (or perhaps the scene was thought for the song).

I really hope we get these two together in season 2 - however I love me some angst, and usually is what we get, so I think that Ana's tests will come back positive and that Mariana will go back to take care of her and things will go on from that.

And that was my TedTalk, thank you for having the patience to read the ramblings of a very enthusiastic viewer.

#madre solo hay dos #daughter from another mother #mae so tem duas #paulina goto #ludwika paleta #lesbian #ana y mariana

[thicctails]

Summer Of Whump Day 18 [Collapse/Beaten]

This one is such a mix of fluff and whump, I love it!

Ω

 “She’s so pretty! Do you think she’ll let me do her hair?”

 “He’s so pale… is that normal for humans?”

 “For some of us, yes.”

 “I think they’re waking up…”

 “Oh, Tiger’s right! Step back, little ones.”

 Omega groaned softly, blinking blearily. The Force nudged her, urging her to open her eyes. She obliged, opening her eyes and allowing her vision to come into focus. Her breath caught in her throat when she spotted a scaly, toothy muzzle right in front of her face. She yelped and scrambled back, tripping over something. She heard a grunt from beneath her, and a quick glance down revealed that it was Cal that she had tripped over. The duo quickly moved into a defensive position, her back against his as they called out to the Force.

 A group of people had surrounded them, all from varying species. They were all different ages as well, ranging from a mature adult to a young toddler. They didn’t look aggressive, but they hadn’t ended up here on accident, so Omega remained on guard. She’d learned to not trust strangers at this point, no matter how friendly they seemed. The eldest member of the group, a Togruta, if her memory served her correctly, raised her hands.

 “Easy, young ones. We’re not going to hurt you.” She said.

 Omega reeled back at first, remembering hearing that same voice when she had been grabbed, but found herself unwilling to stay angry when she felt a wave of calm being sent to her through the Force. She felt Cal relax, and decided that she would put her trust in his comfort.

 “C-crèshe Master Mirthver?” Cal’s voice held a trembling note of blinding hope. The Togruta nodded.

 “It is wonderful  to see you alive and well, young Ketsis.” She smiled, opening her arms. The padawan launched himself at her, sinking into the hug like his life depended on it.

 Omega had no idea what a Crèshe Master was, but she’d gathered enough information to figure out that the woman was definitely a Jedi. Around her, she heard the Force hiss irritably, and it urged her to get up and get away from the Togruta. But one look at Cal’s relieved expression made her decision for her. If staying with this Jedi and her little group for a bit meant that her friend got to be happy, then the Force would simply have to suck it up.

 “I can’t believe it! I- I thought for sure that you were dead!” He cried, burring himself on her robes.

 “I am very much alive, as are some of those under my care.” Mirthver’s voice turned sad. “But not as many as there should be. I was not able to save them all.”

 “You did the best you could. I know you did.” Cal whispered.

 The Togruta smiled softly, and Omega could feel her Force signature thrum with comfort. She looked towards Omega, her smile still on her face even as a tinge of confusion.

 “Who are you, little one? I don’t remember ever seeing you at the temple.” She said, looking Omega over.

 “That’s because she never was. Omega is a clone.” Cal explained, pulling back from the hug.

 “What?!” A voice snapped.

 The Force buzzed with danger as Omega heard something flare to life behind her. She leapt back, falling off of the bed she had been sitting on. Just in time too, as a bright yellow lightsaber swung down on the place where she had just been.

 “Chex!” Master Mirthver yelled, pulling Omega into her arms.

 Cal’s eyes flashed dangerously and he growled. The Force buzzed with anger, and suddenly there was a crash and a grunt. Omega looked over her shoulder to see a human boy holding his head, a discarded lightsaber clattering to the ground. Cal pulled Omega into a protective hug, and she could feel that he was shaking. Actually, they both were.

 Someone rushed over to where Chex lay, her muzzle pulled back into a concerned frown. She grabbed the lightsaber and tucked it away in a pocket before checking up on the boy. Chex groaned and rubbed his head, glaring at Cal and Omega.

 “What the hell?! Why are you defending a karking clone?!” He hissed.

“Chex Varren!” The Togruta’s voice boomed as she stood. Cal and Omega shuffled to the side, and Cal cringed in shame at the tone of her voice, even if her ire was not directed at him. “We do not attack innocents! And watch your language, there are younglings here!”

 “Innocents?!” He balked. “She’s. A. Clone! You know, the people who betrayed us and murdered our entire Order?!”

 “Does she look like a murderer to you?” The woman gestured to Omega, who shrunk back under Chex’s gaze.

 “It doesn’t matter what she looks like.” He spat venomously, getting to his feet. “A clone’s a clone, and clones are monsters.”

 “No we’re not!” Omega defended, her chest puffing up in defensive rage. “It’s the inhibitor chips! They’re what made everyone go bad! They didn’t want to betray you!”

 “Lies! You’re lying!” Chex snarled. “I’m not going to let you trick me, and I’m not going to let you hurt my family!”

 “I don’t want to hurt your family!” Omega exploded, the Force crackling around her. It wanted her out, wanted her away from the danger.

 “ENOUGH!”

 Master Mirthver stepped in between the two bristling children. She pointed a finger towards a tunnel entrance, and Omega realized that she wasn’t sitting in a room, but a well lit cave.

 “Go scout the perimeter. We need to make sure the actual threat hasn’t managed to find us.” She commanded.

 The padawan slunk away, scowling as he went. His hand raised, and his lightsaber snapped into his grasp. The furry person that had been checking him over stepped aside, scowling at him.

 “Dick.” She muttered, and Omega blinked at the insult.

 The scowling teen turned to Omega, and her face became infinitely softer.

 “Sorry about him, he’s a jerk even on the best of days.” She said, kneeling down to that she was eye level with Omega. Cal released her from his protective hold, the Force settling as the tension in the air dissipated. She had brilliant white fur and piercing blue eyes, a headpiece adorned with crystals looped around her pointed ears. “I’m Ebba Freclo, but everyone calls me Ebby.”

 “I’m… Omega.” Omega said, reaching out a hand, as she knew that was what was considered to be polite. Ebby smiled and extended her own paw, shaking Omega’s hand.

 “It’s a pleasure to meet you. The Light shines so brightly in you.” Ebby complimented.

 “Thanks?” Omega glanced at Cal, wondering if that was the right response. He nodded.

 “It’s a good thing. The Light guides us down the right path.”

 Omega nods, before looking at Master Mirthver. “Um, why are we here? I mean, you could have just came and said hello.”

 “Ah, yes, I apologize for our… less than favourable methods of getting you here.” She said, sounding a bit sheepish, “But we had to be sure that strange looking clone couldn’t sneak up on us.”

 “Crosshair? But he-” She cut herself off, taking a moment to imagine what Crosshair might do if he came back to find them talking to a bunch of lightsaber-wielding strangers. “Okay, fair enough. But we need to go back. He’s gonna be worried about us!”

 “Wait, you were with him willingly?” Ebby questioned. Cal nodded.

 “He saved our lives. We got captured by the Empire, and he got us out. His chip is malfunctioning for some reason.” He explained.

 “And now we’re trying to contact his brothers so that they can come get us.” Omega added.

 “You’re not staying?” A tiny voice piped up.

 Omega looked down and saw a Nautolan girl looking up at her with wide, sad eyes. She was a rich purple with pale cream markings, dressed in a soft green tunic and brown pants. A bracelet was fastened around her wrist, a chunk of the same crystal as the teen had attached to the simple brown accessory.

 “Well…” Omega glanced at Cal, who was giving the youngling with the scaly muzzle a hug. He mouthed “just a bit longer”, and Omega sighed.

 “Crosshair’s gonna have our heads for this- okay, we’ll stay for a little bit longer.” She conceded.

 Cheers erupted from the gathered younglings. The Nautolan girl and a young Wookie grabbed Omega’s hands and pulled her away.

 “Come on! Let’s make flower crowns!” The girl squeaked happily.

 Omega laughed and let herself be pulled away.

 “Will you train with us? Me and Tiger are gonna practise tree hopping.” The scaly girl asked Cal.

 “I guess I could. Don’t expect me to be very good though.” Cal smiled, letting himself be pulled along.

   Omega quickly picked up the skill of flower crown making, her hands easily threading the stems. The two younglings chatted on either side of her, although she needed translations for what the Wookie was saying. They told her about everyone who lived in their little hidden crèshe. There was Crèshe Master Azeu Mirthver, Ebba the Bothan, Tiger the Dathomirian, Javeri the Wookie, Xanbi the Nautolan, Chex the Human, Beska the Barabel, and Chi the Togorian. Tiger, Ebby, and Chex were padawans, with Ebby almost ready to become a Jedi Knight. Javerie, Xanbi, Beska, and Chi were still younglings, Beska being the oldest at 10, and Chi being the youngest, only a few months old.

 “What’s it like living with a baby?” Omega asked.

 “It’s hard. He’s always putting out his emotions, which means you’re either feeling really happy, really tired, or really upset. Me an’ Javeri can’t watch him for too long because we can’t put shields up yet.” Xanbi sighed.

 “And he cries when he’s upset! He’s really loud!” Javeri rumbled, Xanbi translating.

 “Sounds awful.” Omega frowned.

 “It’s not all bad.” Xanbi said, examining her flower crown. “He’s really cute, and he’s fun to play with when he’s happy.”

 “Why isn’t he out here with us?” Omega asked.

 “Chi’s too little to make flower crowns!” Xanbi and Javeri giggled.

 “Oh.” Omega said simply. “I didn’t know. I’ve never actually seen a baby before.”

 “What?” Javeri questioned. “Didn’t you see baby clones?”

 “No, clones aren’t sent out until they’re physically around your age.” Omega explained. “The Kaminoans do something to make them grow up twice as fast.”

 “How old are you?” Xanbi looked up at Omega.

 “5 and a half years old.” She replied.

 “WHAT!” Both younglings yelped.

 “You’re younger than me!” Javeri warbled.

 “You’re, like, a little kid!” Xanbi said, dumbfounded.

 “Remember, I age twice as fast as you do.” Omega reminded them.

 “Why?” Xanbi asked.

 Xanbi’s question made Omega’s face turn sad.

 “Because clones were made for war. They wanted us to grow up fast so that we could go and fight. If I was a regular clone, I’d be sent off to fight in a few years.” She said softly.

 “That’s horrible!” Javeri said. “You can’t make little kids fight! That’s a grown-up thing!”

 “It should be.” Omega agreed. “But to the Republic and the Kaminoans, the clones were grown ups.”

 The two younglings looked at each other in utter disbelief.

 “We’ll change it!” Javeri stated in a serious voice, or at least as serious as a 6 year old could be. “One day, we’ll be big! And we’ll make sure no kids ever have to fight, clones or not!”

 Omega gave them hopeful smiles. These kids were the future of the Jedi, and if they could learn from past mistakes, Omega thought that future would be pretty bright.

   Cal panted as he leaned against the tree for support. Beside him, Tiger crouched on the branch, the tree limb still shaking from when he had landed. The peach-coloured Dathomirian smiled at him, his milky white eyes shining in the mid-day sun. How a blind boy could jump and land so gracefully, Cal would never know.

 “How,” He sucked in a deep breath, “how do you do this so easily?”

 “I rely on the Force.” Tiger said with his feather-soft voice. “It guides me. I can feel it constantly.”

 “Yeah?” Cal huffed, sweat dripping down his neck. “You and Omega would get along great.”

 “The Force loves her. It sings with joy when she’s happy and thunders with anger when she’s not. I could feel its anger when Chex tried to attack her.” Tiger mused. “It won’t let you two stay, you know.”

 “What?” Confusion rippled through Cal. What did that mean?

 “It wants her to leave, to get away from us. I don’t know why, but her place isn’t here. But she won’t leave without you, and it doesn’t want her to be alone.” He explained.

 “How do you know this?” Cal asked.

 “I told you, I’m always feeling the Force. She has bonded to you, which is unheard of. Padawans don’t even form bonds like that with other padawans, let alone random Force-sensitives.” Tiger gave him a knowing look. “But you don’t seem to be to keen on the idea of severing the bond while you still can.”

 It was true, he didn’t want to loose his connection to Omega. She was a source of comfort in a sea of turmoil, a guiding star to keep him on the Light’s path. He wanted to be the same for her as well, someone that she could go to when she was at her lowest. So what if this wasn’t the Jedi way? The Order was gone, its members left scattered to the wind. The Code, he figured, could be broken a bit if it meant that himself and others might make it to adulthood, to be able to grow up and become the next generation of Jedi.

 “Cal!”

 He looks down, and there she is, holding a ring of golden and orange flowers, a crown of her own adorning her head, petals of blue and purple hues creating a halo of colour.

 “I made you a flower crown! Come down here so that I can put it on you!” She chirped.

 A warmth blooms in his chest, and he wonders how the idea of him leaving her can even exist in someone’s mind. Tiger laughs beside him.

“You’re so open around her. Perhaps Master Mirthver can teach you both to reign in your emotions.” He suggests as Cal begins to climb down. “You two are like beacons in the Force when you’re together, it’s how we found you today. If we could track you using your Force signature, so could someone less friendly.”

 Cal paused at that. Tiger had a point. If the Jedi had been able to find them, then a Sith definitely could. His stomach roiled in fear at that thought, and he accidentally sent his emotions through his and Omega’s bond.

 “Cal?” Omega called, worry in her voice. “You alright?”

 “I’m fine!” He called back, shoving his fears into a small place deep down in his chest. Hopefully, she’d think that his emotions had come from him being up so high.

 “Do you need help?”

 “No, no I got it!”

 He shimmied his way down, jumping off once he was low enough. He gave her a reassuring grin, and she returned it with a smile of her own.

 “Here!” She chirped, placing the flower crown on his head. “I made this for you!”

 He let her put the flowers on his head, bowing his head a bit so she could position it easier. The ring of bright gold and orange sat lightly on his hair, just snug enough to not slide off when he moved.

 “It’s beautiful, thank you.” He said sincerely, reaching up to feel the soft petals.

 “You look so pretty.” Omega gushed.

 Cal sputters at that, his cheeks flushing red. “Y-you don’t call boys p-pretty, Omega!”

 She quirked an eyebrow at him. “What? Says who?”

 Cal rubbed the back of his neck. “You know… people.”

 Omega snorted. “I don’t care what “people” think, Cal. I think that you’re pretty, and that’s that.” She said, booping his nose.

 He blinked, going cross-eyed as he tried to look at where she’d tapped him. Her boldness was stunning, and he found himself feeling a bit more okay about being called pretty.

 “You’re pretty too, ‘mega.” He murmured, and he felt his breath stutter at the electric burst of fondness that exploded across their bond.

 “You think so?” She asked shyly, although it seemed like she didn’t know why she suddenly felt shy.

 “Yeah. Prettiest girl I know.” He said, confident in his answer. If he could make her feel that happy just by giving her a compliment, than he would do it far more often.

 Omega beamed at him, her honey-brown eyes positively sparkling.

 “If you two start making out, I’m actually going to be sick.”

 Chex’s voice shattered their shared serenity. Cal whipped around, missing how Omega’s face wrinkled in confusion. He glared at the older boy, his green eyes turning sharp.

 “If you say something like that again, I’m actually going to punch your teeth in.” Cal mimicked Chex’s tone of voice as he made his irritation clear.

 “Oooh, I’m so scared.” Chex put his hands up in mock surrender. “Like you could even reach my teeth. You’re such a runt, you’d have to jump.”

 “That’s not very Jedi-like of you, Chex.” Cal hissed.

 “Yeah well, neither is your attachment.” The older padawan draws out the last word teasingly.

 Cal opens his mouth to retort, but suddenly he feels a sharp pang of panic ring out from Omega. Chex turned his head, raising an eyebrow in mildly disinterested confusion as he looked at her.

 “What’s wrong with yo-”

 “GET DOWN!”

 Omega launched forward, tackling Chex to the ground. A screech pierced Cal’s ears, and he stumbled back as a creature burst through the canopy, smashing into the ground where Chex had been seconds ago. Its tail whipped him, sending Cal to the ground. He grunted in pain, curling up into a defensive ball. Clutching his stomach, he could only watch as the beast reared up, snarling.

 It was a winged equine, skinny and malnourished with shining blue fur. Dark purple spots that reminded Cal of eyes dotted the animal’s body. It had three talon-like toes, and its wickedly sharp claws dug into the dry earth. A set of powerful feathered wings beat wildly, their teal and pink feathers gusting up dust. Rectangular pupils honed in on Omega and Chex, the black blocks standing out admits the creature’s yellow and orange eyes.

 The creature lunged for Omega, dragging her up by her foot and tossing her to the ground. Omega screamed, and Cal could feel his own back explode with pain as she hit the dirt. Fear drove him to try and get up, but he found himself unable to. A warm wetness was beginning to form under his hands, and he instinctively applied pressure. Helpless, he watched horrified as the winged animal kicked at her, it’s sharp hooves slicing through her shirt and leaving bloody marks behind.

 “Nrgh! Get away from her!” He shouted, trying to draw the animals attention off of her.

 The equine payed him no mind, grabbing at Omega again. It’s wicked fangs closed around her leg, and he felt himself pale when he saw rivets of blood dribble down the beast’s thick neck. Omega was howling in pain at this point, and the sound broke his heart and made him feel like the lowest scum for not being able to help her.

 “HEY FEATHER-FACE!”

 The animal jerked it’s head to the right. A dusty, angry Chex. His yellow lightsaber crackled fiercely, the glow reflecting off of a stream of blood that dripped down his face from a gash on the side of his head.

 “Eat lightsaber!” He yelled, swinging his weapon at the feathered equine. He managed to hit a wingtip, and the creature shrieked, dropping Omega. She hit the ground with a thud, and he saw her eyes go wide as the air rushed out of her lungs.

 The aggravated animal snapped and snarled at the teen, the two circling each other. Chex darted forward, slicing into the creature’s flank. It roared and whipped its head around, grabbing Chex’s arm and tossing the teen away. Suddenly, Tiger leapt out of the tree above the animal with a yell, landing on it’s back and grabbing its ears. The equine bucked and brayed, trying to throw Tiger off of its back. Tiger moved to grab his lightsaber, but the animal took advantage of his distraction and swung its tail around and struck Tiger in the head. The Dathomirian yelped in pain and fell, gasping in pain when a hoof struck him in the chest.

 The animal was heaving at this point, foamy saliva coating its jaws. It staggered in pain, its injured wing twitching as it made an odd wheezing sound. It lowered its head, growling at the ground as it continued to sway and twitch. Omega let out a high pitched whine, and the animal’s attention snapped towards her. It bellowed and reared up, its hooves poised to come down directly on her chest. Cal closed his eyes and jerked his head away, unwilling to watch his only friend in the whole galaxy die right in front of him.

 Bam!

 The beast fell silent, then Cal heard a loud thud as it hit the ground. His eyes flew open, his vision now filled with bright blue fur. The animal wasn’t breathing. As quickly as he possibly could, he lifted himself up as much as possible. His ears were full of the sound of his own heart pounding, but he was vaguely aware of the sounds of the other Padawans making noises of pain and calling out for Master Mirthver. His head tilted upwards, and he nearly sobbed in relief when he saw an armored figure crouched on a high up branch.

 Crosshair’s presence brought a sense of much needed safety, especially as fatigue grabbed Cal in its iron-clad grip. His head his the dirt again, darkness starting to seep into his vision. As the world faded away, he saw Crosshair rush towards them, unable to decide which child he should attend to first. He must have seemed more injured, because he was soon scooped up into a secure hold and brought closer to Omega. He blinked as Crosshair began speaking in Mando’a, his words too fast and Cal’s hearing too muted to be understood. His head lolled to the side, his cheek resting on Crosshair’s scuffed armor. Omega stared back at him, her eyes full of pain. She was panting shallowly, tears dripping down her face. He reached out and grabbed her hand, holding it as he slipped into unconsciousness.

#summerofwhump #summerofwhump[18] #the bad batch #star wars the bad batch #star wars #omega bad batch #cal ketsis #crosshair bad batch #jedi oc #padawan oc #youngling oc #whump #tw blood #tw injury #tw animal death #tw animal harm #tw child harm

[polkscastle]

New Pokemon News-Drop Today (My Thoughts

Pokemon is back at it again with more info on the upcoming Gen 5 remakes, as well as, Arceus: Legends. These were my thoughts on what we were shown: - Unite, Cafe ReMix, Masters, and GO: There's not much I have to say about these updates on Pokemon's running titles, mostly because (besides Pokemon GO) I don't play any of these. Unite holds no interest for me, with the option to dress up your pokemon as the only reason I'm slightly tempted to look at it. I played the original Cafe Mix for a week: thought it was cute but, disliked the puzzle gameplay. And, I just never looked into Masters. Maybe if I find some friends who really, really love these titles and want me to play with them, I'll consider playing these. But for now, let's get into why I woke up early just to see these announcements live... ----- - Brilliant Diamond and Shining Pearl: YES! YES!! YYEEESSSS!!!! I am SO HAPPY!! Maybe the choice of visual design threw people off at first but, these look so good. The style remains perfectly cute and charming. Plus, they are indeed changing things up and adding new elements to the remakes. My biggest concern when I saw the first announcement for these games was that (especially with another company in charge of development) they would stick too close to the design of the originals. It may only a few little touches that we know of so far, but I'm excited to see if there's more to come. My thoughts on each individual element: - Your Pokemon Follow You: You heard here, folks. The Pokemon Company is once again giving us partner Pokemon that follow you around in the overworld. You'd think such a detail wouldn't be that important but, it really does add to the experience of a Pokemon game. Done well, it helps you see your own Pokemmon as living partners rather than pawns in combat - Ball Capsules and Stickers are Back: WooHoo! It honestly isn't a surprise to see them here, but I'm still happy to see these back again. I don't remember fiddling with the ball capsules too much as a kid playing the Gen 5 games, yet I was still sad to see them go in later games. I thought it was such a cool idea to be able to personally edit the entrance effects of your Pokemon. - Updated Contests: Contests were not a big interest to me when I was playing the originals as a kid. However, I was hoping that they would update them in these remakes. So far, I like what I see. The dance and battle showcase portions of the original games seem to have been merged into a new rhythm mini-game, which is fine by me. I do hope to see the dress up accessories come back into play, especially if these can be worn by your Pokemon outside of the contests. I don't know, I think it'd be fun ^^ - Trainer Styles: Not the full avatar customization of the later generations, but still a nice addition. Good on you, Pokemon - Expanded Underground: Now, this is interesting. I was excited to be able to travel the Sinnoh Underground again, and now they've made it even better. The Pokemon Hide-aways look like a fun addition. And, (from what I've seen so far) these could be another solution to the whole Fire-type issue that Sinnoh was so infamous for. In summation, I was already set to get Brilliant Diamond and Shining Pearl, and these announcements only have me more stoked to see what they have in store. (Side note: My currant status on withholding myself from buying that new Switch Lite when I have a functioning Pokemon-themed Lite and am saving up for the full OLED model is... ...failing miserably. IT LOOKS SO COOL, YOU GUYS!!! T-T ) ----- - Legends Arceus: The perfect little cherry on top to this buffet of news. SWEET MERCY! This game is looking so GOOD! I want it so badly! Everything we saw in the initial announcement is so much more polished and breathtaking here. I can't wait for it to come out. And to put this out there, I love the addition of Action Order battle mechanics. I don't play many action rpg's but, I am excited to try this one out. The idea of using different styles really does seem to add a whole new layer of strategy to Pokemon's base battle mechanics, especially if I can set up combos without taking a hit in-between moves. Maybe if it does well, they'll try incorporating that into the main series games ^^. New Hisui Pokemon: - Wyrdeer: *Flashbacks to Princess Mononoke* Stantler may be a favorite of mine, but I do adore him getting more love and attention like. Wyrdeer just looks like a boss! - Basculegion: Again, not a favorite Pokemon of mine, actually something of a personal ire for me, now given a really boss looking evolution. But, that backstory ... O-O - Hisuian Braviary: Not much to say, he just looks cool - Hisuian Growlithe: *GAAASSSPPP!!* PUPPY!! LOOK AT THE PUPPER!! GIVE ME THE FIRE-ROCK PUPPER!! I'LL TAKE TWENTY!!! New Human Characters: - Prof Laventon: Don't know what to think of you just yet so, we'll just wait and see how things go down with you. - Captain Cyllene: (first reation: "Wait... that's a woman? Well, don't I have egg on my face right now ;P) That said, I am intrigued by this character. Her design reminds me heavily of Tilda Swinton (just saying). Though, with her being this game's parallel/possible ancestor for Cyrus, it seems a bit too obvious to make her the big bad of our adventure. Perhaps they'll do something more interesting with her story but, we'll have to wait and see - Commander Kamado: Oh, my... W-well, it seems we have our Prof. Rowan parrallel/possible ancestor. And he looks very tough, and s-strong, and commanding... ...and handsome, and... O///O ...w-w-will, you excuse me for a sec. ----- TL;DR - I may not care for the running events of the current present, but I am more than excited to see the treasures and legends of generations past

#pokemon #pokemon brilliant diamond #pokemon shining pearl #gen 4 remakes #pokemon legends arceus

[gumnut-logic]

Repercussions (Bit 1)

This one is @the-lady-razorsharp​ ‘s fault because she pointed out this post. Of course, she is probably why it took a sharp turn at Thunderbird Five and landed in John’s lap while on it’s way to Scott. :P

We have Em Harris in this one. My OC from Gentle Rain. This occurs sometime after that fic, before Em becomes part of IR, and apparently appears to be documenting part of that joining IR bit ::eyes muse:: This was just supposed to be a scene.

But anyway, I hope you like it. About 1500 words or so with more to come. My writing has been slowed lately due to busy and more recently, not being well and it is very annoying. Holidays are coming at the end of the week, so yay!

-o-o-o-

She knew it had been a bad one. Even if she hadn’t had a direct line to Thunderbird Five, the news nets had grabbed the action and thrown it across every available device.

International Rescue had been called into an incident with a space freighter and a civilian residential Earth orbiter. Hundreds of people, most in the higher economic bracket, were endangered.

Thunderbird Three had been deployed.

And Thunderbird Five.

Em and Eos had an understanding and the AI kept her updated on the status of the rescue. Her concise reports slipped in between clients and the bustle of the day. Most were reassuring. Scott was up there with Alan. John was out with his exosuit. Numbers of persons saved, the stark numbers of injured and lost.

It was those numbers that had her itching at her desk. The questions of her patients regarding how much weight they should lose versus how much candy they were allowed was in stark contrast to what those poor people were going through.

She had to speak to Scott. He was against her letting her practise go and getting too tied up in IR, but how could she not? How could she stand by when she could help?

She knew he meant well. Protection of those he loved was as vital a part of him as any limb, but how could she sit here knowing the man she loved was putting his life and the lives of the rest of his family on the line for so much.

She had determined that she was going to broach the subject yet again when Eos’ interrupted her thoughts.

“John has been injured.”

“What?” The tablet in her hand slipped and clattered on the desk.

“The Commander has him.” But there was something in Eos’ voice that said far more.

Her own voice snapped back as she straightened up. Her current patient stared at her from the chair beside her desk.

She ignored him and, with a flick of her wrist controls, darted from the room. A hand signal to Elvis, her receptionist and he would know she was needed elsewhere and take care of her neglected patient.

Another reason to give up her practice. Poor customer service during rescues.

She slipped into an empty office and closed the door. “Eos, I need detail.”

“Please hold.”

She bit the inside of her cheek. Eos was an artificial intelligence, she was able to deploy her consciousness across multiple focusses. The fact that she wasn’t doing that currently was far from encouraging.

Em spent the time running John’s medical history through her head, identifying anything that could be of concern if she needed to treat the man.

Damnit, why wasn’t she up there?!

“Eos!”

“My apologies, Doctor Harris.”

And she was left hanging again.

This was so frustrating! She wasn’t known to be indecisive, but she hesitated to intrude further. It was an active rescue, after all.

But her heart worried for the tall and quiet man who always had a gentle smile, a calm word and never seemed to stop working.

She lasted two minutes before her hand twitched towards her comms again, but before she could call Thunderbird Five, a familiar rich baritone cut in. “Thunderbird Two to Doctor Harris. Em, I am en route to Tracy Island, do you need a pick up?”

Before she could answer the sky outside the room’s window began to vibrate with a roar.

“God, thank you, Virgil.” And she was moving, giving notes to the relevant people, grabbing her bag and heading to the roof of the hospital. This was it, she was quitting her job and reorganising her life so she could be where she needed to be!

Scott had to understand.

The downdraft of hovering Thunderbird messed with her hair as she opened the door to the roof. The massive green machine shifted and lowered over the edge of the building, her front hatch lining up with the parapet. A helmeted version of the second eldest Tracy reached out a hand to help her aboard and she was swallowed by the Thunderbird.

Then followed a dash to Tracy Island. Virgil’s tone was clipped and business like as he relayed the situation.

A spacesuit and a large, jagged chunk of metal with momentum was not a good combination.

Sitting in Thunderbird Two was a vastly different experience to sitting in her office. Here she had an ear to the communication between brothers. here she could hear the love of her life’s sharp commands, the desperation in his voice as medical procedures were enacted. Mrs Tracy’s calm instructions showed exactly how these men had survived for so long.

Her own medical mind was supplying what John would need and the effects beyond the damage to his leg. Abrupt re-entry into gravity would suck. Fortunately, John had his suit, but with an injury like this, at least his leg would not be receiving that support.

Worry swirled in her stomach.

But there was no time for worry.

As Two approached Tracy Island, she was joined by the roar of the massive red rocket as she returned to Earth bearing her injured passenger.

She had never seen Three in flight quite like this. Awe dented the worry just a little until she could no longer see the rocket as Virgil brought his ‘bird into land.

And then it was all just emergency.

She had worked with Mrs Tracy before. The older woman knew her medicine and as Em slipped into the well-stocked infirmary, the tension was as calm as it could be.

“Em, dear, thank you for coming. We will be needing your steady hands, I’m afraid.” There followed the medical jargon that basically listed the issues with John’s lower right leg including the need for a little suturing and debriding. There was a damaged vein and frostbite.

She barely noticed as the house shook with the launch of Thunderbird Three returning to the danger zone. Only acknowledging where Scott likely was as he sped away from her.

John was conscious and fielding a frantic Eos.

As Em prepped she listened to what was essentially a frightened child being reassured by a parent. John was calm and it was obviously keeping him distracted, so Em allowed the interaction, but kept an eye on the monitors.

“Eos, I am going to be okay.”

“John, you are bleeding. This is not recommended. This is far from optimal.”

“Access medical reference. It is a minor wound. Grandma, Doctor Harris and Virgil are here. They will fix it.”

“I have accessed medical reference and the complications are alarming. What if it gets infected? What if you can’t walk? What if you can’t return to Thunderbird Five?”

Mrs Tracy cut across the AI’s anxiety. “Eos, dear, John is hurt, but he will mend. He just needs a little time.”

“How do you know? How can you guarantee when the probabilities still allow for devastation?”

The pain in Eos’ obviously terrified voice cut into Em’s heart.

“Eos, the danger of infection is very small. John received good care and the wound was attended to immediately. I predict no lasting damage. He will be back with you in a few weeks.”

“Are you sure, Doctor Harris?”

“It’s Em, honey, and yes, John is going to be fine.” Virgil rolled over a surgical cart with all her tools and she prepped a local. “You can watch if you like and I will tell you exactly what I am doing.”

“Can I help? I have access to multiple texts and visual recordings of similar procedures. Where were you planning to start your incision?”

John interrupted. “Eos, Doctor Harris will perform the procedure. I trust her. Could you give me an update on Thunderbird Five’s systems? At level three?”

“Certainly, John.” And there followed an extremely detailed verbal run down on every system aboard the orbital Thunderbird from sensors through to toiletries supplies.

After biting back a smile, Em attended to the task at hand and it wasn’t long before the wound was cleared, clean and stitched. Virgil wrapped up his brother’s leg as Em shed her gloves and washed up. Mrs Tracy was murmuring words to an obviously exhausted John while Eos chanted out the solar power feed numbers from Five’s panels.

“Thank you, Em.” The voice on her comms was quiet and an odd echo of the voice still listing numbers from the ceiling. “Are you sure you removed all the damaged skin.”

Em bit back a smile. “I’m sure, Eos. John is going to be okay. We will be monitoring him, as I know you will be, too.” A pause. “You should probably let him sleep now. He needs his rest.”

Immediately the voice from the ceiling started to dip in volume. It wasn’t long before it faded completely.

John’s eyes were closed and he was breathing evenly.

Good.

Em slipped away.

TBC

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #John Tracy #em harris #Virgil Tracy #Grandma Tracy #Sally Tracy #Gentle Rain

[animeyanderelover]

I hope this is where you send a request lol. But i wanted to know if you could do prompt 16 with Kuki Urie:)

It’s been a while since I wrote anything about this fandom and creating the new masterlists made me realize just how little I wrote about them so far.

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, possessiveness, obsessiveness, overprotectiveness, manipulation

Prompt 16: “You don’t understand! If you accept me now, I’ll be your slave!”

He was crying. He was really crying right now. It wasn't shocking, you had seen other men crying before, but you hadn't expected him to cry. Not in front of you. Or because of you. You had always been his reason of happiness as he had told you. So seeing him spilling tears right now was breaking your own heart just like his had been just now broken. His breath was uneven, silent sobs disrupting it's natural flow. He was trying to not be too loud, keeping the volume down. But the silent cries were the worst.

You just stood there, body having gone stiff and unable to move. You wanted to comfort him like you had done always in the past. But how could you if you had been the one who had brought him the pain in the first place? Was there even something you could say right now? What was a person who had just friendzoned another who had confessed supposed to say? But you had to do something, right? You couldn't just leave him here all alone.

Urie had the feeling like someone had just slammed his heart mercilessly with a sledge, it was aching. The last time he had felt something akin to this had been when his father had died. Back then he had been a child, he had not been able to handle all the emotions. Now he was grown up and had thought that he had been able to control his feelings.

What a lie that was, he was on an emotional roller coaster whenever he had been near you. Your whole being and thoughts on you had been for a long time now flooded his mind and senses and he had thanked whoever was watching from the clouds for letting him meet you.

Thanks to you he had learned how to really live again, how to feel again. Never once had he realized before how grey and cold his world had been before. But thanks to you he had realized just how blind he had been, that his life had been nothing so far. Not without you. You had given his life in a way a purpose, something far more greater than working as an investigator. Your love.

Happiness. Joy. Excitment. This sweet and addicting feelings you stirred up in him whenever you did as much as being somewhere near him. It was so wrong, the sickenly obsession he had with you and the people who he had already let his ire out because they had managed to get on your bad side, meaning also on his bad side. He was all too aware that going that far was wrong, but he hadn't cared in the slightest bit.

How could he when you had helped him getting over his pain, being the light to lead him out of the dark hole he had been stuck in so far? Everything he had experienced with you had been like a complete new thing for him. Even the most common things like walking with you somewhere had led him to seeing the world through new eyes. You were without a doubt the cause of his euphoria.

But never before you had given him a completely shattered and burnt heart or made him cry hot and large tears. Normally he would never cry in front of people. But he was vulnerable in front of you. He couldn't hide anything emotionally when it came to you. You were after all the person who made him go through all the intense feelings.

"Why?" His voice was nearly cracking at the end, his eyes still fouced on the ground where tears were constantly dropping on. You opened your mouth several times just to close it again. You almost felt like crying too, seeing Urie in such a condition. It was just a sign of how much your rejection had really just hurt him. There was surely something you could do for him without making him feel even more shitty.

"Kuki..." You slowly stepped closer, searching in a rushed manner for something you could do to soothe him a bit. "Am I not enough? Is that it? Do you think that there is someone better?" The volume of his voice was something that reminded you of a mouse, it was hushed and barely above a whisper. You also couldn't recall a time where he had ever sounded so unsure, so anxious.

"No! That's not it! You're great! Believe me, I really think of you as a awesome and cool guy." By now you were merely a foot step away from him, noticing now that you were close up how his body was shaking due to his choked breaths and silent sobs. "I-I'm just afraid that I can't give you what you ask me to give you. I love you a lot, but in another way. I don't want to lose you because of this Kuki. I know that sounds a bit easier than it is, but...let's just stay like this. We're happy as we are right now."

"That's a lie." You bit your bottom lip when hearing his quivering voice. Slowly, very slowly, he shifted his gaze from the ground to your lips and then to your eyes. His eyes were reddened and a bit puffy, tears still streaming down his face. "How can I ever be completely happy when I'm without your love? What am I even here for then? You were the one person who taught me how to live again and for that I just want to protect, love and pamper you with everything I have. Without you and your love I'm-I'm a nobody."

"That's not true Kuki! What are you talking about? You're not a nobody! You're a great investigator and I would say that is a reason why you're here. To lead your own squad and work with the CCG to protect the citizens of Tokyo. Shouldn't that be enough? Knowing that you have to protect the lives of the many people in this city?"

The man gave you an aghasted expression, looking like you had just said the most dumbest thing ever. "The CCG? The lives of the people here in Tokyo?", he repeated after you, still having this non believing look on his face. "Do you really think they mean to me nearly as much for me as you?" With one step he closed the bit of distance you had between each other, you almost reflexive taking a step back, feeling suddenly frightened of his unhinged expression.

"You're so wrong with that (y/n). I'll let them all happily die if it means that I can spend more time with you. What are they worth anyways? The only thing I need to be happy and live a good life is you! The rest can just die!"

In such a twisted way you knew that this was somewhat like the ultimate confession of love, being ready to let others get murdered or eaten by ghouls just to be able to survive another day with the person you loved. And yet it was the most egotistical thing you had ever heard. You even felt offended, maybe because you knew Mutsuki and Saiko yourself. Was he saying he would even let his friends die? You searched for any sign on his face that would tell you that this was just a mere act out of desperation from his side. But you found nothing.

"You really mean that, don't you?" Your voice was giving your discouragment and disappointment away, which didn't go unnoticed by Kuki. His facial expressions seemed to twitch, the disappointed look in your eyes adding even more layers of pain over his already broken heart. He hated this expression, the look that told him that he had not made you happy, but only made you upset with him. He hated that. Why was he never able to be good enough for you? He wanted to be perfect, the best. Just for you. But no matter how much he seemed to try, it was never enough. Was he really that imperfect?

His silence spoke books for him and you felt slight anger rousing up inside of you. How could he say this? Would he really let his friends and comrades die? You thought that he was the kind of guy who would fight til the bitter end. You had troubles believing him.

"So you want me to feel guilty because of deaths of people you could have saved, but didn't because you weren't willing to risk your life?" Urie quickly shook his head. "That won't be your fault (y/n)! It'll their fault for not listening to orders and being careless." What was he saying? "They'll die because they're willing to give their all for the people and their job! And you are supposed to do the same, Kuki! I thought that was why you joined in the first place!"

You quickly shut up when realizing that you were damn close to yelling right now and maybe the tiniest bit because all the yelling seemed to affect Urie as well. You were also almost about to cry, but blinked quickly to get rid of the tears in your eyes.

"Be honest with me. Did you already let someone die because of me?" He fell silent for a few seconds, making you feel more and more anxious. He hadn't, had he? "...No." The answer seemed suspiciously delayed, but his face wasn't giving anything away. So you took that answer, hoping to soothe the uneasiness and anxiety inside of you. "But you would?" He seemed to hesitate for a bit, debatting on with himself whether he should lie to calm you down or say the truth. But he had already spilled it out, hadn't he? "Yes, I would."

A disappointed and shocked noise escaped your lips, rubbing your eyes whilst busily thinking about what you were supposed to make out of this. "(y/n)...Please don't be mad at me." You peeked between one of your hands currently covering your face at him. He appeared to come over as pleading, eyes begging you to forgive him. And you couldn't help, but feel your heartstrings getting tugged at.

Without any words you suddenly grabbed a jacket of yours and walked to the front door, hearing Urie following you with huge and fast footsteps. "Wait! Where are you going?"

With your hand resting on the door knob you turned around, being met with his face only inches away from yours. "I...need some time alone to think about this Kuki. You need to understand, this was maybe just a bit too much for me to take in at once. And the fact that you told me that you don't care about the lives of other people in Tokyo just because you don't want to stop coming over to me...I think I need to think about our whole relation-and friendship in general. I don't want to stop being your friend, but maybe...distancing and stopping to see each other helps you coming back to your senses."

His eyes widened, obviously your words just now had scared him, but right now you needed time to think for yourself without anyone interrupting you. So you swiftly opened the door, about to leave.

That was before Kuki slammed the door with a loud 'wham' closed, body instantly moving itself between you and the door, blocking your way out. You flinched startled, for a moment blinking shocked before you came back to your senses and annoyance started to flicker inside of you. "What do you think you're doing?! Move your ass away from the door or else I'll have to go with less nice methods!" He didn't, he just continued to drill his frightened gaze at you, seemingly not wanting to let you leave him. "Kuki! Now!"

"You don't understand!" He sounded extremely despaired, a distraught expression on his face which made you slowly take a step back from him. But this sudden move of yours seemed to trigger him and before you could even react, he had already grabbed your hands tightly in his own. "If you accept me now, I'll be your slave!"

You had temporarily abandoned all of your annoyance and anger, currently you felt freaked out by this extremely deranged behavior from his. "You have to listen to me! I'll do anything you want me to and I'll be anyone you want me to be! I'll clean for you, I'll cook for you, I'll kill for you, I'll die for you, I'll live for you! Whatever you want! But don't leave me alone! Not you too..."

You slightly tried to free your hands from his, but you were scared that he would get triggered by any sudden movements which was why you kept such things at a minimum right now. You felt truly alarmed right now, not being able to tell what he would do next. Fleeing looked like a stupid idea, he was due to his not humanly body much more physically strong and faster than you were and you didn't want to risk it. But you doubted that talking would help him either. He was clearly not in his right mind.

"You need help." You stiffened up the moment you had whispered those words loud, cussing yourself for saying something like this in front of him.

"Help? You really think I need help?" You didn't like it one bit just how much distraught he looked right now whilst still keeping a look of fondness on his face whilst gazing at you. It didn't mix well. "I don't want any help. Don't need them either. They wouldn't be able to do much anyways. I know just how bad my case is and I doubt that anyone would be able to help me. Don't you see?" You didn't know if you were supposed to give him an answer or not, but you just shook your head when hearing him muttering these words.

"The only person that is able to help me is you. You're the one who made me this way in the first place and you're also the one who can help me. You made me how I am. Don't you think it's only fair if you help me before someone really dies? You'll just be there for me and I'll take care of anything else. Doesn't that sound like a good offer?"

#yandere tokyo ghoul #yandere urie #yandere kuki urie

[thehaemanthus]

Our Savaged Souls

Trying out a new thing of posting the full chapter on tumblr. You can read from chapter one one AO3 (unless it’s not your thing, and in that case you can send me an ask and I’ll be like! sure! I love to be accomodating! I’ll post full chapters on tumblr :) )

Feyre Archeron is born under the new Wall separating human lands from the Spring Court- her home. She hunts in her forest, forms a friendship with the High Lord's third son, and is introduced to his friend. Then it all goes wrong.

Chapter 6

Tamlin soon forgets his ire about the Suriel. Or at least, he pushes it down far enough and eventually bounces back, dragging her out on more adventures. He manages to swing by for a few hours of her birthday party, and then is required at home for much of the spring. By the time the summer rolls around, Feyre can tell he’s eager to be away from family and make up for lost time.

The latest outing is a jaunt to a pool of liquid starlight, one that Feyre has visited only a handful of times. It’s one of Tamlin’s favorite places, she knows, and she felt the honor in the first invitation.

Her linen dress brushes just past her knees, only half of her hair pulled back in anticipation of a relaxing afternoon spent lounging in the shade and wading in the water. No boots or tight braid needed today. Her contribution to the picnic is a batch of scones, some ruby-red cherries, raspberry preserves, and roasted almonds. With her bounty and dress, Feyre decides to winnow rather than pick through the forest.

Feyre expects it to be a small party, but she does not know how small it actually is until she arrives.

There are two people there. Tamlin and Rhysand.

Of course. Rhysand. Of course he is here.

“You managed to make it on time!” Tamlin greets her with an enthusiastic kiss on the cheek and takes her basket from her hands, retreating to add it to their pile of food and blankets. The space already looks inviting, dappled in shade. Sweating bottles of lemonade and ice water peak out from a wicker basket full of white porcelain plates with painted primrose borders and crystal glasses. A partially wrapped loaf of bread and hard cheese rests on top, along with a sharp knife and a bounty of fresh fruits.

Feyre scowls. “I was late one time, Tam, it’s not funny anymore.” She glances at Rhysand. It would be impossible to pretend he’s not there. It’s just the three of them. It would be rude to not say anything. It should not be difficult at all to just greet him. She wrangles her expression into something pleasant. “Hello, Rhysand.”

“Feyre darling,” he smirks. “I thought you were calling me Rhys now?”

She actually turns a bit red and fumbles. Thankfully, Tamlin’s big mouth saves her. “When did that happen?”

“A while ago.” Rhysand reclines on one of the picnic blankets, lounging like a cat. He waves a hand. “Won’t you join us, Feyre?”

There’s really no way to refuse. She takes a seat, folding her legs under her. “It’s hard to break a habit. I’ve been calling you Rhysand for a long time now.”

“I’ll have to keep reminding you, then,” he says as he roots through a picnic basket, plucking out a tin of cookies. “Want one?”

“Thank you, Rhys,” she stresses his name, plucking one of the cookies from his hand.

He smiles at her, and the tension seems to melt away.

Has she always looked at him like this, or did the Suriel trigger something in her soul that flipped the world upside down? Feyre wonders how long this feeling, this awareness of him has been growing in her heart, encroaching so slowly and naturally that she has not noticed until someone drew her attention to the blossoming.

For a child of the Night Court, Rhys looks good in the sun. She has always known he is beautiful, but something has changed. As they chat and nibble on the picnic, Feyre observes him. There is something fuller in his laughs, more playful in his smirks today. It would be impossible to forget that he is an Heir— powerful radiates from his body and he approaches every conversation and confrontation with arrogance. He is still guarded. But if his true soul is an impenetrable fortress, Feyre thinks they’ve passed through the gates of one or two battlements.

The sun beats down on them, stronger now that the world has moved and positioned itself in summer. The Day Court is absolutely sweltering, Rhys informs them, and there’s been some problems with heat sickness in Summer. In Spring, Feyre keeps an extra canteen of water and takes frequent breaks when romping about.

Sweat gathers at her brow and pools on her upper lip. Eventually, sipping cool drinks and relaxing in the shade is paltry comfort.

“I’m going for a dip,” she stands. “Anyone want to join?”

The males scramble up after her. It’s some work to unlace her stays, so they end up shucking their clothes and splashing into the pond before her. Feyre finds herself sighing in relief when they don’t look twice or offer to help. It would be well meaning from them, her friends, if not a little playful and flirty. But if Rhys offered…

Mother above. Surely it should take her longer to fall?

“Are you coming?” Tamlin calls from the water, flicking some water in her direction. It glitters like diamonds where it lands on the grass and dirt. It might not actually be water, but Feyre has never known what else to call it.

She scowls. “It takes a little longer for me.” She toes off her slippers, wiggling her feet in the cool grass. In the past, Feyre hasn’t had trouble with stripping down to almost nothing and jumping into lakes and rivers. Now, she keeps her chemise on and tries not to think too hard about it. After tossing her hair pins on the blanket, she wades in.

The pond is cool and refreshing. Sunlight almost blinds her as it bounces off the surface. Feyre glides through the water, slowly acclimating herself. When she dunks her head under and emerges, the liquid starlight clings to her lashes and makes the world look brighter and chaotic. She swipes a hand at her eyes and blinks to clear her vision.

Tamlin floats on his back, golden hair floating around his head like a halo. Rhys lazily swims a circuit around the pond, much like she was. Feyre treads in place for a moment before floating a bit closer to Rhys.

Sensing her presence, he surfaces. Feyre’s breath catches. She’s sure he reads something incriminating on her face, but before he can speak she opens her mouth. “This pond suits you.”

“Oh?” he questions. His feet must reach the bottom, because while Feyre is working to stay afloat at the edge, he is merely holding out his arms to keep himself steady.

“The starlight.” Her eyes roam over his face and dip down to his neck before shooting back up. If she looks too far down she won’t be able to return her gaze to his face. “Son of the Night Court. It all works.” She waves a hand in his face, and he laughs. The starlight clinging to his hair and shoulders and dripping from his chin bring out the constellations in his eyes.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, darling,” Rhys nods at her.

She wishes she had a mirror, if only to try and memorize her own look for a painting later. “Do I?” she asks, leaning back a bit in the water and pretending like his words do not send her heart racing.

Her eyes are on the sky, but when Rhys is silent for too long she propels herself upright. He’s frowning a bit, looking more unsure of himself than she’s ever known him to be. “Rhys?”

“I can show you,” he says, expression much too serious for an afternoon swim.

Feyre laughs softly. “You have a mirror? Where are you hiding that?”

Rhys’s smirk lacks some of its swagger. He brings up a hand and, from nowhere, conjures a hand mirror. “I do have some tricks up my sleeve. But that wasn’t what I was talking about.” As quick as it appeared, it's gone.

Feyre cocks her head. Rhys wants to show her what she looks like, but without a mirror or any reflective surface...and it’s not like he’s an artist…

She gapes a little, swimming closer. Tamlin is still floating on his back, hearing muffled from the water, but she lowers her voice anyway. “You’re daemati?”

It’s the only thing that makes sense. And she would expect no less from Rhys. In addition to being obscenely powerful, to have this as well...he won’t just be a powerful High Lord, he’ll be unquestionably dominant.

His brows lift a little in surprise before his expression settles. “Clever girl. I shouldn’t be surprised that you guessed.”

Feyre bites her lip, torn between being pleased and being concerned. She does not think that Rhys has ever used his power against her. But how would she know? She has heard plenty of stories, has been given plenty of reasons to be wary of the Night Court. Feyre is not so arrogant as to think that she is a worthy target, but just the thought of her thoughts being combed through or someone getting information from her mind is disconcerting.

Rhys— whether by looking at her mind or her face— knows where her thoughts lead her. He moves a little closer as well. “I have never looked in your mind, or Tamlin’s for that matter. I’m not that kind of male.”

“I know.” The words are said without thinking, but they ring true.

He does not look convinced. “If I wanted to use you, I would have hovered in your mind as you hunted the Suriel and asked them a question myself. I would have probed your mind to see what you asked.”

She nods. Part of her knows it to be true, but another part, an animal, instinctual part, shies away from him.

But the Suriel told her to trust Rhysand.

It’s not effortless, but she stays. “You keep it a secret?”

“We keep it quiet,” Rhys admits. “We” probably means his family, his Court.

What does it mean that there is a secret daemati ready to inherit one of the mightier Courts of Prythian?

If she was a good person, she thinks, she would tell someone. But being a good citizen and a good friend are directly opposed at the moment. It does not take Feyre very long to decide which title is more important to her.

“I won’t tell anyone.” She values her friendship with Rhys, trusts him more than she maybe should. Even considering what the Suriel said, she would be a fool to throw herself into his arms blindly.

“Thank you.” Under the water, he reaches out to squeeze her hand. “I know you still aren’t comfortable with this.”

It’s difficult to meet his eyes, so she looks down. Right at the curves of his shoulder, where brown skin and black ink peek from beneath the surface. Her mouth goes dry, but she manages to force words out. “It is...strange. To realize how vulnerable I’ve been.”

There are dangers in Feyre’s life, but she has always known them. She has rules, has trained and armed herself against threats. Don’t stay out too late after night falls in the forest, don’t stray too close to creatures who have young ones to protect. Keep your eyes averted when speaking with the High Lord and try to not attract too much attention, bite your tongue in front of certain people and laugh and gossip in secret circles only.

There is no such defense against Rhys. At least, she assumes so until he speaks. “I can train you to shield your mind.”

Feyre blinks, shocked. “You can?” It’s possible? And he would offer that to her?

A deluge of cool water drenches her. Feyre cries out in shock, whirling to scowl at a laughing Tamlin.

“You two are much too serious,” he says, slapping the surface of the water again to send another splash their way. “What were you talking about anyway?”

“We had a run-in with a daemati in the Night Court a while back,” Rhys says smoothly. In an instant, his cool confidence is back. He swims away from Feyre, closer to Tamlin. She is sure there is a good reason he turns his back and tells herself it does not sting. “I was telling Feyre that I wouldn’t mind offering some lessons on how to shield her mind.”

“Why would you need to shield your mind?” Tamlin asks her.

She scowls. “Why wouldn’t I? Don’t you want to keep your thoughts private?”

“Sure,” Tamlin shrugs. “But it’s not like any daemati would target you.” He is lackadaisical and inattentive, paddling around the pond like a slippery otter. The mere word “daemati” was enough to alter Feyre’s mood, but Tamlin is barely affected.

“She’s been spending time with two sons of High Lords,” Rhys points out, flicking some water into Tamlin’s face. “I’d say that makes her plenty vulnerable. You should learn to shield, too.”

Tamlin nods, finally starting to take it seriously. “You were taught?” He propels himself upright, staring intently at Rhys. It is not hard to see how Tamlin esteems their older friend. Anyone who spends five minutes with the two of them can see how Tamlin might look at Rhys for approval, how he weighs Rhys’s words and commits them to memory. Sometimes, Feyre worries about how reliant Tamlin is, how he has replaced his own older brothers with the Heir to the Night Court. But she hardly has room to talk.

“Almost as soon as I could grasp the concept,” Rhys says. “I’ll give both of you lessons. It’ll be hard to test without an actual daemati, but it’s worth trying.”

You’ll have a bit of an advantage over Tamlin. Feyre gasps as Rhys’s voice echoes in her head. Her limbs freeze. She sinks a little in the water before propelling herself back up, sputtering.

Tamlin glides closer. “Feyre?”

“I’m fine,” she assures him, pointedly not looking at Rhys. “I thought something brushed my leg. What lives in this water anyway?”

“Nothing natural,” Tamlin scowls at the opaque surface as if his ire can be translated to whatever dwells below. “Come on, let’s leave before we find out.”

Feyre wades out of the pond, chemise sticking to her skin and hair dripping down her back. She squeezes her hair to dry it as best she can, then moves to gather a fistful of her chemise and wring out the water.

It’s silent for a moment. When Feyre looks up, she sees two males looking at her instead of getting out of the pond.

Emboldened by their attention, Feyre raises an eyebrow. “Yes?”

Tamlin coughs, looking away and stepping out of the water. He passes her without a comment, even as Rhys continues to look. Her challenge is answered as his eyes rove over her body, from long bare legs to the wet material clinging to her hips and chest. She half expects something flirty to spill from his mouth, but he just keeps the smirk on, looks his fill, and emerges from the water.

It takes a lot of effort not to pay him back in kind, though Feyre does sneak a look at those tattoos and well-muscled chest.

The light breeze chills their damp skin, and the once sweltering heat becomes a comforting embrace. The trio sprawl out. Between bouts of dozing off, they have a contest to see which pair is best at tossing grapes into someone’s mouth. When Feyre’s hair is mostly dry and her fingers get caught in tangles, Rhys slips behind her and braids it back.

She is half awake as his fingers comb through her hair, catching every other word of his explanation that his little sister has now grown old enough to demand all sorts of hairstyles and pampering from her devoted older brother. Feyre hums with a smile, picturing the scene.

There’s a knock on the edge of her mind. One she is better prepared for this time. Rhys slips a memory into her mind, one that is not hers, but his. Through his eyes he sees a head of black hair, a young girl’s bedroom, a reflection of him and a little girl, the former wrestling with a hair brush and the latter rifling through a basket of ribbons. There is a love infused in that memory, a feeling so pure that it nearly brings a tear to Feyre’s eye.

I almost neglected my promise earlier. Rhys’s voice is low and smoky in her mind. A moment later, a different memory. Her grinning face, covered in droplets of starlight.

There is emotion in this memory too, though not the all-consuming devotion Rhys feels for his sister. But it is something, and it makes Feyre smile anyway.

It is the perfect day. Feyre is not naive enough to think that this dynamic, with her two dear friends, can last forever. Rhysand will one day become High Lord, and Tamlin’s own role will likely change when his father passes. But fae are immortal, and she is untouched by death, and the thought of painful change is so far away in that perfect summer afternoon.

She cannot be blamed for thinking peace will last for a good, long while.

--

Being the Lady of the Spring Court is good for little else besides ordering the servants around the house.

Alis can grumble and protest and toss every veiled hint that she can think of, but in the end she cannot prevent Feyre from leaving her bed. Sleep came and went in the night. When the discomfort impeded her peace, Feyre tossed back healing tonics and pain remedies and whatever cocktail of drugs that the healer left on her nightstand.

Her smaller cuts are healed, but her ribs are still tender. The worst bruises are black and blue and impossible to look at. Feyre chooses a boring corner of the room to stare at as Alis dresses her in light fabrics and a dress that laces loosely. Alis picks a gown in an opaque green with a yellow underskirt, as if that will lend color to her pale skin or brighten her gaunt face.

Feyre tells the staff that she and the High Lord will not be entertaining any guests and to send away anyone that might drop by. Not that anyone comes for Feyre unless she specifically invites them.

The only other person in her home besides the servants is Lucien. He clearly did not expect her to leave bed and nearly leaps from his seat when she slips into the dining room. “You should be resting.”

She probably should. There is an exhaustion that has settled in her, infused in her bones and powdered on her skin. Her tongue is weighed down. Feyre has no words for her friend, only enough energy to squeeze his shoulder as she walks past to take her seat. She sees the way his eyes scan her, the way his jaw clenches when he notes how she sits gingerly.

Tamlin’s chair at the head of the table is empty. The space feels like a chasm.

When Tamlin is home, the table usually is weighed down with food. Today, Lucien just has one plate sent up from the kitchen. Feyre gets the same toast, fried eggs, and sausage. No platters of sliced fruit or tureens of gravy or plates of sugary pastries. Lucien pours her a cup of tea wordlessly.

Feyre eats in peace, but Lucien has a stack of papers by him that he leafs through in between bites. With Tamlin gone, his work will be all the more difficult. Lucien cannot make certain decisions, cannot sign off on projects, cannot approve a budget. But there are some things that must get done and emergencies to deal with.

“Anything I can help with?” Feyre speaks her first words of the day.

Lucien’s eyes flick up briefly. “I’ll let you know.” He’s gone a few minutes later, only a squeeze of her shoulder as a goodbye.

There are things Feyre can do, even some things that Tamlin might expect her to accomplish. Ferye thinks of the piles of letters she can respond to and the parties she might plan. The next holiday is never more than a few months away, and Tamlin likes to take any opportunity to celebrate and fill their home with his friends.

She does not do any of that.

The servants push back on some of Feyre’s whims, but they can never outright refuse her. A few months ago, it was a battle to get them to relinquish their gardening tools. Another battle to ask one of the gardeners to teach her, show her, and not do anything beyond that.

But a few months ago she was also a bit more fragile, and so they followed her directions with less protesting than she usually was in for.

Now, Feyre knows where to find the tools she needs. She slips on the gardening gloves that Alis procured and forced on her. While it might be seemly for the Lady of Spring to prune a few roses, cuts and calluses were utterly unacceptable. Feyre can stroll in the gardens, can even kneel in the grass, as long as she has a wide-brimmed hat to shield the delicate skin on her face.

How she longs to rip off the hat, unpin her hair, and sprint through the fields once more.

No one disturbs her as Feyre weaves through the perfectly manicured gardens. She passes tall hedges, venturing deeper until she crosses into a little hidden nook. It is cordoned off by nothing more than a charming wooden gate, but symbolism is strong. No one has ever entered without the express permission of the Lady of Spring.

Feyre let the little space go unattended for years, not caring much for gardening or pretty flowers. Now, the hidden nook is ringed with blooming jasmine. She might add a stone bench in the middle, but for now she is happy to sit on the grass.

A proper gardener might prune and use sophisticated techniques to care for the jasmine, but Feyre likes to see it grow wild. She removes weeds and brushes away dead leaves. In Spring the bushes are almost always flowering, clogging the space with their intoxicating scent. She would have kept blooms in her room, if not for what they symbolized.

Jasmine is a Night Court flower.

Tamlin does not come to her jasmine garden. He either does not know or was informed and has not confronted her directly. Now that she is in the garden, Feyre wonders if this is, in part, what set him off.

The flowers are not for Rhys. Not really. True, they remind her of him, in a way. But she mostly likes the scent, likes that when she smells it she immediately feels at peace. Jasmine is not the most beautiful flower in the world, but it is still pretty. A flower alone cannot make her happy, but it settles something in her soul anyway.

White jasmine is crisp and clean. Pure.

For a while, Feyre had no closure after the loss of her child. These things happened, so the healer ensured she was physically healthy and then sent away. There was no goodbye, no body, no ceremony to send the child off. They were there one moment and gone the next, not having made any mark on the world besides a scar on Feyre’s heart. She does not know if they were male or female, if they had Tamlin’s blond hair or her own darker shade, if they would have had freckles or their father’s straight nose. After they were gone, the child seemed to exist for Feyre and no one else.

So she planted the jasmine.

Now, as she lays on her back in the grass, she can imagine it. A giggling toddler, running circles around her. But not here, not in Spring. The flowers perfume the air and make it all too easy to pretend she’s in another place.

Maybe the jasmine is selfish. Maybe Feyre did have another motive in creating this secret space.

While she is here, she can mourn her child. While she is here, she can pretend that she is someplace else.

#acotar #acotar fanfiction