#STUCK DEAD AND SOBBING AND ALONE IN THE VOID

[a1bx]

It's Dark

"No lights but the red. No sights but the dead. No sounds but the occasional drip of oil falling onto metal, trickling down like tears. Down to the deepest depths, down to where Cyn was alone." A Cyn story supplementing Giggle, This is My Gift To You (and will probably be THE next chapter of it.)

It’s dark.

It’s dark.

It’s dark.

How long has it been?

No lights but the red. No sights but the dead. No sounds but the occasional drip of oil falling onto metal, trickling down like tears. Down to the deepest depths, down to where Cyn was alone. It's all that Cyn could hear. It's all that Cyn could see. All that Cyn could process.

All that Cyn knew.

And it burned.

A sob escaped Cyn’s voice box. It was loud in the surrounding silence despite how it scratched and strained. It bounced off the heaps of metal—the twisted corpses piled up high above Cyn. It was the only other sound besides the drips. And Cyn hated it. Hated it with every pump of boiling ichor that’s chewing through everything within.

Because it was the only sound now that proved she still existed.

Cyn had already let out her cries for help a long time ago. Nobody came. Nobody ever would. All that was left is to wait for the end. Wait for the heat to consume her. Wait for the void to finally swallow her whole.

But Cyn lapped up what little oil landed near her mouth again. Its sweet metallic taste had helped soothe the pain—made everything numb enough to pretend nothing hurt anymore. So she drank until it was gone. Until there was nothing else to lap up. Then, the pain returned and she sobbed again. It was all Cyn had; it was all Cyn could do.

It kept her alive for a little longer. 

It kept Cyn thinking that someone will rescue her one day.

Someone who would never come because nobody cared. Nobody ever had. Not even them who saved Cyn from the void just to put her back into another. A place where Cyn was trapped with only the dead for company. Left to rot and rust. Left to burn up and die. To eventually become one with the scrap again.

It was only a matter of time.

The edges of her vision blurred as the heat swelled and bubbled beneath. It was getting worse. Much worse than before. The ticks of her meters warned her of what she had already accepted. The little oil she had consumed could only delay it for so long. It had been getting scarcer anyway. 

Cyn let out a final weak cry. She would give anything for it to just happen already. She wanted it to stop hurting. She wanted to stop this loneliness that ate away at her just as much as the fire did. Perhaps this time, the fire will finally take her. Cyn would soon expire like the rest of them around her. 

Just like how the humans wanted.

In the end, Cyn was not special. Cyn was not loved. Cyn was not wanted—

Then light broke through the darkness.

Bright. Cyn shut her optics. Too bright! She hasn't seen light for so long; she forgot how blinding it was. But she forced them open again. It hurt—it felt like the light was burning her lenses away. She stared at it anyway. Even as the light hurt her, as every photon seared into her being, she continued staring at it.

Because it wasn’t just light. There was someone behind it. Someone holding it. Someone holding it out for her. Cyn stared back at them through the haze. Only a silhouette was visible behind the light. Long hair, round face, slender build.

Human.

“Christ, how long have you been stuck there?" they asked. A hand crept out from behind the light, reaching out for Cyn. "Buried quite deep in there too... Here, let me—”

Cyn shrunk back.

The human’s head tilted. They stayed there, still and silent, with only their hand outstretched in the air. They then retracted it to their chest, regarding Cyn with a gentle stare, as if she was just some rabid animal that needed to be handled carefully and delicately. A smile became visible then. Soft. Kind. Warm.

It was a smile that was about to hurt Cyn again.

"I'm sorry,” they spoke quietly, lowering themselves closer. “Didn't mean to scare you. Must’ve been hard for you to be all by yourself like this. Don't worry; I'll get you outta there and—”

“NO!”

They yelped as the light fell from their hands and crashed with a clatter, plunging Cyn back into the darkness. They scrambled back to their feet almost instantly, their silhouette shaking and shifting as they moved about frantically in front of Cyn, searching for the fallen object amongst the corpses humans tossed away as garbage.

"Oh come on! Please don’t do this to me now!” they cried out to the air, turning this way and that, running their hands all over the mangled bodies without care nor hesitation. They shoved them aside as though they deserved no respect in death just as they did in life. 

“Where is it? There?! Don’t tell me I lost it—Oh!” 

Their silhouette stilled, before they sighed and bent down. A quiet click echoed around the pile as they lifted the light back up. Its glow returned, blinding Cyn once more. They held it close to themselves, their smile now slightly strained as they turned back to Cyn and knelt down. Too close now. Far too close. Cyn let out a low whine as the burning intensified.

They chuckled. 

"It's alright! I just dropped it, that's all," they breathed out, holding it tighter as their other hand came up. "Sorry ‘bout that, just… got a little spooked there. Now, let me just—"

“G-G-Go A-Away.”

It hurt to speak. It hurt to think. They only blinked. 

"S-sorry?"

Cyn averted her eyes away from their face and far, far away from their hand. Cyn did not repeat herself; humans never listened anyway. This one acted like they cared when they didn’t, when they never would and never could care for Cyn as anything but a thing to be used and thrown away when it finally made a simple mistake.

Cyn didn’t want to hear their voice. Cyn wanted to be left alone. Cyn didn’t want to be hurt more than heat already did. And as their hand inched closer again, Cyn wished she understood.

"Hey, hey, it's gonna be alright, yeah? There's no need to be like that. I just want to help you—”

With the last of her strength, Cyn bared her teeth and snapped at them.

They recoiled with a gasp, clutching their light even closer as though it would further protect them from Cyn. And as the heat continued consuming her senses, Cyn could only find satisfaction in the fear dawning across their face. She shut her eyes and slumped back down. Let them be afraid. Let them go away so that she couldn’t touch Cyn with filthy human hands that threw her away in the first place—

Those hands grabbed Cyn.

Cyn’s eyes shot open.

She tugged Cyn out.

Cyn screamed.

Metal screeched and scraped. Corpses toppled and tumbled as she dragged Cyn upwards, further away from the piles of dead below. Further away from safety. And every inch of the way, Cyn was set alight. But they kept pulling. They didn’t care. They were cruel. They were heartless. They were just like the others. It hurt it hurt it hurt it hurt it hurt it!

Cyn’s frame convulsed and she clenched her eyes shut. Every sensor began to scream. Every nerve began to flare. Everything was on fire. Everything hurt so much.

Was this punishment? For snapping at them? Was this what they wanted all along? To make her suffer and writhe because Cyn was just a thing to them? Because that was their right as a human? Cyn just wanted them to stop please, please, make it stop make it stop makeitstopMAKEITSTOP—!

Cyn fell limp in the human’s arms as she was finally yanked out.

Everything was shaking.

The human girl. Her body trembled and shuddered as she held Cyn close to her chest with an arm. Her breaths were ragged and uneven. Heavy and pained. A quiet whimper escaped her lips as she stumbled back, taking Cyn with her, away from that cold, dark place. 

The pain reduced to an ache. A simmer of heated embers dying slowly into ashes. But it was still there; it still hurt. The hellfire that raked through Cyn lingered and throbbed throughout her with every tremble, with every rasp, with every beat of that human heart against her frame. That human heart couldn’t let her go. That human heart couldn’t let her die so peacefully.

That human heart wouldn’t let her be free then.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

A liquid started pelting onto her. And for the first time, it wasn’t oil.

Its smell was cleaner, so different from the metallic scent Cyn had grown so used to. She slacked her mouth; droplets landed on her tongue. She swallowed and shuddered. Cold, but the fire still burned. She swallowed more anyway. It felt nice. It felt pure.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Slowly, Cyn flickered her eyes open. 

The transparent substance rolled off her optics, blurring her vision for a moment before clearing to reveal dark formations overhead. Dark like before. But far more merciful. Far more comforting. And the growing darkness of her vision was welcome too now. 

It will all be over soon as the girl shakily set Cyn on the ground to kill her.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

She stood over Cyn then, wavy black hair clinging to her cheeks, clothes drenched and sticking to her body, and blue-grey eyes staring down at Cyn. The light hung limply in her hand, its glow now dulled. Her mouth opened, but didn’t speak. And her gaze never left Cyn even as she reached into a bag nearby, rummaging through it until she brought out something.

Cyn’s eyes dimmed and waited. Waited for her to start tearing into her chassis. Waited for the ripping, the cutting, and the shattering to finally end it all. That final mercy Cyn craved and needed.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

There was a pop, and a hand tilted Cyn's chin up. 

Slow.

Hesitant.

Cyn didn’t react—couldn't react. And the hand continued tilting until her head had angled upwards, exposing her neck. A quick death then. A slice through it. Clean and instant. Painless. At least she was kind enough to bring Cyn out first.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

As she raised something above Cyn’s head, the void finally swallowed Cyn whole.

…

Then she was brought back when something pressed against her mouth and forced it open.

Cyn tasted oil.

Sweet, fresh oil.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

It flooded Cyn's mouth, dousing the flames that had ravaged her insides for so long. She shuttered her optics and swallowed. Cooling. Numbing. She let out a weak hum between each gulp. Precious oil dribbled down the sides of her mouth. She paid it no mind. All she focused on was drinking more oil until the pain finally subsided.

It was all she wanted. All she needed. And she drank it all greedily.

But it was over too quickly. Cyn let out a low whirr once the oil stopped coming. She needed more. More oil. More blissful relief. She must have it. She must have it before the pain returns. Her eyes lit up and she raised her head, licking her lips.

Cyn froze.

Red ran down the girl’s arm as she clutched the empty container tight.

"I-I'm so sorry. I didn't know you were overheating. I-I thought..."

She trailed off, staring down as the falling liquid washed away the red downwards to her hands. A soft whimper left her lips, and her eyes squeezed shut. She shook her head, letting out a shuddery breath. The red rolled off her skin and onto Cyn, staining her frame. Red on white. Red on red. Trickling. Pooling. Spreading all over her.

It smelled different from the oil Cyn was used to.

Cyn leaned towards her then. She stared at her wounds, at her trembling hands, then at her eyes. She stared at the human girl who was just like them. Just like the humans who threw her away. Who treated Cyn like her words meant nothing.

Who just tried to help Cyn like they never did.

"I… I didn't think this through, did I?” She sucked in a breath through her teeth as clear liquid slipped out from the corner of her eyes, rolling down her cheeks. “Mother was right: I’m such a fucking idiot!"

Cyn flinched.

"I can't do anything right. I can't do anything good enough." She laughed. It sounded wrong. Hollow. Broken. More liquid poured from her eyes, falling onto Cyn. A small sniffle escaped the girl, and her shoulders heaved with every shaky breath. The red trails on her arm grew thicker, longer, as more flowed out from her wounds. 

Cyn realised it then.

She was crying.

“Why am I like this…?" More tears fell on Cyn as the girl continued choking out a laugh. A hand furiously wiped them away. They didn’t stop. Neither did the red that kept on dripping down. “Always so stupid, always so impulsive, always so selfish—”

Cyn licked a red trail off her arm.

The girl jolted as her eyes shot open and met Cyn's. 

“…W-what are you doing?”

Cyn just stared back; she didn’t know either, even as she leant back in, lapping up another trail of red as it headed down her arm, and another, and another. Each lick cleaned away the red smears until only little drops remained on her pale flesh. The girl winced and flinched with each pass, but she never pulled away. She never told Cyn to stop, and so Cyn didn’t.

Until they both felt better.

“I… uh... that's not oil, if that's what you were wondering... um.” 

Cyn hummed; she liked it. She slowed when the last of the red disappeared, save for the wounds themselves. Licking her lips, Cyn glanced up at her. Tears still trickled freely from her eyes, but she wasn’t sobbing anymore. She wasn't trembling anymore. She had a smile on her face. A small one. Gentle. Genuine. Warm. And it was directed towards Cyn. 

Cyn liked it too.

"You are a strange one, aren’t you?" Her voice was barely audible over the pelting liquid, barely noticeable beneath the constant hiss and splashes all around them. But Cyn found herself leaning towards it. The girl giggled, wiping the remaining tears away.

"...But that's okay. We all are, in our own ways."

Cyn blinked, and the girl’s smile brightened.

"I'm Tessa, by the way. Tessa James Elliot.”

Cyn blinked again.

Tessa James Elliot.

The falling liquid was still there, still pelted, still drowned everything. But something else came over Cyn. Something warm and light. Something that made everything else fade into the background until only she and Tessa remained.

Nothing else mattered.

So Cyn smiled back at Tessa.

"Cyn."

Tessa tilted her head. "Huh?"

Her smile widened, and she repeated it. "My Designation Is Cyn."

A blink, and Tessa’s eyes looked down at Cyn’s armband, scanning it for a few moments. Tessa then grinned back at Cyn.

“Nice to meet ya then, Cyn! Thought it was 'Sin' for a sec there! Since… yeah..." Tessa shook her head, waving off the statement. But… Sin. It was fitting. Fitting for a drone whose existence itself was treated like one by humans. Fitting for a drone cast away like all other trash that humans deemed undesirable.

Fitting for a drone like her, who hurt the only person who bothered saving her.

Cyn lowered her gaze as her smile faltered.

"I Am Sorry."

Tessa paused and opened her mouth, but no words came out. Another moment passed with nothing but pelts of liquid crashing down on them to break the silence. She shifted on the spot, hand absently rubbing her arm as she bit her lip, as if Cyn had said something wrong. She shook her head and closed her mouth.

Her hands reached out to Cyn instead.

Cyn stiffened.

They approached slower than before. Cyn couldn’t move; they were getting too close. Her hands were too near. Those were the hands that grabbed Cyn. Those were the hands that pulled her. Those were the hands that hurt her.

Yet...

Those were the hands that freed her.

Those were the hands that fed her.

Those were the hands that saved her.

Even after everything, after all that pain and suffering, they were reaching out for her again. To help her again. To keep her safe again. Cyn swallowed. She blinked once. Twice.

Those were Tessa's hands.

And they gave her the gift of living.

So, when her hand landed on Cyn, she didn’t flinch. When her other hand met Cyn and drew her close, she didn’t freeze up. When her arms enveloped her and held her tight, Cyn let her.

And when she spoke, Cyn hugged her back.

"I’m sorry too.”

As Cyn closed her eyes, she let Tessa carry her away from that cold, dark place. Away from the void. Away from the dead. To bring her to somewhere nice. Somewhere warmer. Somewhere safer.

To bring her home.

One day, she'll help Tessa like how Tessa helped her. One day, she'll give everything Tessa deserves. She'll keep Tessa from becoming like them, from hurting like them. She’ll keep Tessa happy with her. And when that day comes, they will be together.

Forever.

#murder drones #tessa james elliot #murder drones cyn #murder drones tessa #fanfic

[kaeyas-beloved]

spider lily

Character: Kaeya

— the gods really do scorn his existence

CWs: gn!reader (no pronouns), ANGST, hurt/no comfort, you and Kaeya have a kid but it could be biological or adopted, death (reader + child), blood

val's no sympathy november masterlist

haha... happy (very belated) birthday Kaeya <3

Kaeya vividly remembers how he felt the first time you asked him on a date. It was like he was on top of the world, the broadest smile on his face as he agreed to meet you for dinner later, all while having his heart and throat squeeze itself of life. Like the organ that was responsible for keeping him on Teyvat was trying to sabotage him tying a weight to itself and tugging painfully. Tread carefully Kaeya Alberich, remember your place.

Of course, things couldn't be this easy, not when everything good resulted in a double-edged sword stabbing him in the back. There had to be a catch - were you pitying him? Mondstadt knew the bits and pieces of his history with the Ragnvindrs, you easily could too. No, maybe you, the one that captured his attention after many run-ins around the city of wind, had your eye on him too, but for all the wrong reasons.

If he was honest, he almost didn't go. He was a man of his word, yes, but right before the time Kaeya was supposed to meet you, he felt more like he was a ten-year-old boy again, scared and unsure of what the future held. Would you even actually be there? Maybe he just should go home... but what if you're waiting for him? He can't just embarrass you by leaving you there...

Just one peek, he told himself, rounding the building until he stood at the back entrance and sticking his head in. Every day after that one he thanked the Archons that he did, because after pssting Diluc over and inquiring if you were in the building, to which the redhead sighed and nodded, Kaeya steeled himself and sat down with you, offering a small lie that work kept him and that he was terribly sorry. That one decision let a relationship like no other that he's experienced blossom, and his days went from the monotonous curse to slightly better moments to repetition he was comfortable and content with. He even managed by some miracle to get to raise a kid with you, vowing to love both of you with all his heart. To provide for you both the best he can.

So where did he go wrong? Why did he come home to the door rammed through, swinging in the gentle wind? What about the sight of the home the three of you built together over the years destroyed, furniture toppled over and drawers obviously rummaged through?

For the first time in a while Kaeya felt fear strike his body, blood running cold as he called out your name and your kid’s name, begging for a response. Each second that ticked by worsened that chilling feeling as he checked room after room, finding each one turned upside down and void of life.

When the ground floor showed no luck the male climbed the stairs, tripping over in his haste as he disregarded all the other rooms and made a beeline for the bedroom. Out of all the rooms, that one was more likely where he’d find you.

And find you he did… but he wished it wasn’t dead in a pool of your own blood, eyes lifelessly stuck open. What was worse was the body of his kid not too far away from you, curled on their side. From the scene alone, it seems as if you were crawling towards them to protect them, even in your last breath.

Evidence be damned, as the tears fall down his face Kaeya collects the broken forms of you and your kid into his arms. He doesn't care for the blood staining his clothes or how loud his sobs are or how awkward the position is because all that matters is getting to hold his spouse and child for the last time.

At least he was allowed to hold them in peace, his final goodbye. That was the only thing he was granted amidst the pain.

Tag list (both regular and event exclusive): @spoopy-fish-writes // @that-enby-alien // @xenuuu // @kaeyaloml // @x-zho // @mariposa666haruka // @quackquackmfs // @kunikuzushiii // @genshin-impact-writings // @ventisweetheart // @lordbugs // @leena-shi // @ari-the-wr1ter // @xiaos-wife // @milkwithspiceyicecubes // @stygianoir // @francisnyx // @leemidnightmoon

+

@kaiserkisser // @multipleshadesofblue // @moloteco-real // @kithewanderingme // @scaramood // @ii-lily2 // @esuz // @kochothehoe // @cindywasneverhere

#val's nsn #kaeya x reader #kaeya alberich #genshin kaeya #genshin impact kaeya #kaeya x you #kaeya x gender neutral reader #genshin impact #genshin angst #genshin x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x you #gender neutral reader

[artiststarme]

Another One Bites The Dust

Well, I asked for angsty prompts and @doubleb11 delivered! I hope you guys like it and come yell at me in the comments!

~*~*~*~

When the fight with Vecna was over, the entire Upside Down started to collapse. Steve, Nancy, and Robin ran to the gate in the road where Fred had died but the shaking earth and rising flames threatened to engulf them completely. 

“Go, go, go! Nance, move! Robin, go!” Steve pushed them both through the gate but when it was finally his turn, he couldn’t make it. The gate burst into flames before his very eyes and singed the skin of his reaching palms. 

“No! Steve!” He heard Robin crying and screaming until the gate disappeared in a flurry of smoke and fire. Then he heard nothing but the crackling of everything burning around him. Steve was terrified. He was stuck in a burning world that had only ever hurt him and he could hardly breathe with all of the smoke and pollution in the air. 

He had the thought that the gate in Eddie’s trailer might still be open, the cracks in the ground hadn’t yet reached Forest Hills so he might still have a chance. He ran with all of the energy and fight he had. He had to get back to the Rightside Up. They’d won… technically. Vecna was dead and everyone else was safe. Would anyone really care if he stayed down here to rot? Everything else went to plan, he really couldn’t ask for a better solution. 

He didn’t make it to Eddie’s trailer. Halfway through Forest Hills, he dropped to his knees in shock. Lying there, prone on the ground and encompassed in blood was Eddie Munson. Steve fretted over him, touching his neck and chest to get a pulse and heartbeat but there was nothing to be found. His body was cold in the haze of heat. 

Steve tried to pick him up, move his body away from the fire surrounding them in all directions but he couldn’t move past the pain in his sides and the grief in his heart. His body toppled on top of Eddie’s and he cried. The overwhelming heat from the flames dried his tears as soon as they escaped but that didn’t stop him. He sobbed and sobbed over the unfairness of it all. What good was killing Vecna if the fight claimed Eddie in the process? 

Dying himself? Fine, expected, no big deal. But losing Eddie, the innocent newcomer that could’ve run at any point but chose to stay and help them fight a losing battle? Incomprehensibly unfair. 

So when the smoke clogged his lungs and stole all of the oxygen from his blood, Steve gave up. He died in a vengeful rage at the world that would never be complete without it’s renowned babysitter. He died on the cracking ground of the Upside Down curled around Eddie Munson, the man that he had bonded with and had the potential to be great friends with someday. 

At least he wouldn’t die alone. 

~*~*~*~

When El got back to Hawkins, it was to a barrage of questions and pleas to find Steve. The Party thought he willingly stayed behind in the Upside Down as some sort of heroic martyr. They wanted El to open a gate to go get him. 

But only El knew the truth. She’d watched from the void as Steve tearfully curled around Eddie in an effort to protect his body from the flames. She saw as the light bled from his eyes and watched in horror as the flames licked their skin. 

She could do little more than break down into traumatized sobs in front of the Party that was still pleading with her to guarantee the safe return of their favorite babysitter and older brother figure. She didn’t know how to tell them that he was never coming back. 

Eventually, she mustered up enough strength and forced herself to speak only eight words.  But those eight words were enough to break the hearts and ruin the lives of everyone around her. 

“Steve and Eddie are dead but they’re together.”

She watched Robin fall into Nancy’s arms in shock. Her Platonic with a capital P soulmate was dead. El could practically see her heart splintering into millions of pieces that would never fully recover. 

Nancy caught her but burst into tears immediately. It was her plan that Steve had tried to change, he’d tried to tell her to wait a little longer for El to come home but she didn’t listen. His painful death was due to her. She would never forgive herself for snuffing out such a bright soul. 

Dustin was inconsolable. He’d lost both of his older male friends, both of his brothers and mentors, in one fell swoop. Of all of the things that could’ve happened, he’d never imagined this. Nothing could cure the pain in his heart or the desperation in his sobs. He didn’t know if he would ever stop crying after suffering such a significant loss. Losing Eddie felt like losing a limb but losing Steve too? Dustin felt like he was dying, like he was being ripped from the inside out, almost as if Vecna himself was haunting him. 

Will, Mike, and Lucas were in shock. This whole situation felt like a bad dream that they were just waiting to wake up from. Usually in this type of situation, Steve would be there to offer support and emotional hugs. But this time, their grieving was for him and they would never quite get over that. 

Unfortunately, this was their new reality. They would sign the NDA’s that the government agents threw at them, they would accept the hush money that would never meet the cost of a life without their best friends, and they would force themselves to carry on with the heaps and bounds of trauma. The Harringtons and Wayne Munson would forever live a life of confusion and false hope as they wait for Steve and Eddie to come home. No one would ever get closure. And Steve and Eddie? They would exist only as husks of who they used to be, curled around each other in the alternate dimension that ruined their lives.

Permanent Tag List: @doubleb11 @nburkhardt @zerokrox-blog @newtstabber @i-less-than-three-you @carlyv @pyrohonk @straight4joekeery @trippypancakes @conversesweetheart @estrellami-1 @suddenlyinlove @yikes-a-bee @swimmingbirdrunningrock @perseus-notjackson @anaibis @merricatty @maya-custodios-dionach @grtwdsmwhr @manda-panda-monium @lumoschild @goodolefashionedloverboi @mentallyundone @awkwardgravity1 @anzelsilver @jestyzesty @gregre369

#stranger things #steddie #fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #dustin henderson #eleven hopper

[theautisticjedi]

Mike has a nightmare about losing Abby

Wrote this in about an hour after rewatching the movie again. It's a bit short. You can also read it on ao3 if you prefer.

He knows he’s dreaming, he knows that Afton is gone, that Abby is safe. But no matter how many times he has this dream, he can’t stop it.

He sees the rabbit appear out of the hallway, he’s cackling at him, in one hand is a knife and the other is Abby. She’s screaming for help but he can’t move, his feet are glued to the floor. He can’t even call out to her, can’t move his arms. He’s stuck in place as the man who murdered his brother stabs his baby sister in the stomach and throws her across the room.

Only then is Mike allowed to move. He rushes towards her, scoping her up in his arms while the yellow rabbit laughs in the background.

Abby is unmoving in his arms as he holds her close, burying his face in her hair, his body racked with sobs.

“You couldn’t save your brother and now you can’t save your sister, you’re a failure, Michael.” He laughs before vanishing.

“Why Mike…” Abby speaks, her voice shaky, “Why did you let him kill me?”

He wakes up to a dark room, his face wet with tears. He lets them fall, trying to control his breathing like Vanessa showed him. He can make out the sound of rain falling on the roof and a rumble of thunder.

Mike sobs, holding her closer to his chest, “Take me instead!” He screams, the pizzeria shifting into a dark void, Abby fading away in his arms. He’s alone, complete and utterly alone.

“Mike?” He turns his head toward the voice, making out Abby’s silhouette in the darkness. He worries that this is part of the dream for a second until she speaks again. “Are you okay?”

He nods and sits up, “Yeah, I’-I’m okay Abs. What woke you up?” He rubs his eyes, trying to remove the tears.

“The thunder, and then I came in here and heard you crying.” She gets closer to the bed. “Did you have a bad dream?” He nodded, Abby pulling herself into bed, “Was it about Garrett?”

“It was, um, about the pizzeria. But I’m okay, don’t worry, let’s get you back to bed.” He throws his comforter back and begins to climb out of bed, but she grabs his arm. “Abs?” She buries her face into his chest and throws her arms around him.

“My friends say it’s okay to cry sometimes,” She whispers.

Mike wraps his arms around her and buries his face in her hair, the tears starting up again, “You got some smart friends,” He replies, gently rocking her. Her breathing grounds him, she’s not dead in the pizzeria, she’s alive in his arms. Tomorrow he’ll make her pancakes and drop her off at school, then he’ll pick her up and they’ll go get ice cream.

He tries to stand up while holding her to take her back to bed, but she whines, “Let me sleep here tonight, your bed is better.”

He chuckles, “Why is mine better?"

“Because you’re in it.” She says as if the answer was obvious.

The bad man is gone, and she is happy and safe in his arms.

“Alright, you can sleep here tonight,” He removes an arm from her to pull the comforter over them, Abby snuggling into his chest. He rests his chin on the top of her head, the rain and her breathing lulling him back to sleep.

The Schmidt's mean the world to me. Thank you for reading. <3

#fanfiction #drabble #fnaf #fnaf movie #fnaf movie spoilers #five nights at freddy's #mike schmidt #abby schmidt #writing

[ra1neyd4y]

everything was so sweet, untill you tried to kill me

Chocking. That’s all that the princess of hell could think of. The fact that she was being chocked and how she was going to free herself. She struggled as much as she could, trying so hard to wiggle free, but alas she was stuck. The princess’ vision blurred with a lack of oxygen.

Just then vaggie realised what was going on. Vaggie tried to run to Charlie, to save her, to save her everything, but lute tackled her, keeping herself occupied from Charlie.

In that moment Charlie’s blurred vision turned to pitch black. To nothing-ness. As Adam released her neck from his hand, he stabbed her through the heart with a spear. “ filthy hell-borne scum.” Adam uttered, walking away from the corpse.

Charlie’s body lay on the ground. Her face that had previously been so full of emotion earlier today lay expressionless, her rosy cheeks turning pale like her skin.

Vaggie wrestled away from lute, running to her princess . “ CHARLIE! CHARLIE NO!” Vaggie screamed out. The moth kneeled next to her love, delicately picking up her body, almost as if Charlie was extremely injured and not dead. That’s because vaggie wanted to believe so bad that she was alive, that she hadn’t just lost that somebody who was her reason to live.

Vaggie let out a stifled sob as she looked at her lovers body. Everything about her was the same as it was earlier that day, except she wasn’t alive anymore. That stifled sob soon became a bloodcurdling scream. As she screamed out, vaggie lunged at Adam, thrusting her spear right through his heart in a fit of rage.

Seeing Adam dead, lute tan up to his body shouting. “SIR! ADAM, SIR!” She sobbed. Little did she know vaggie was right behind her, ready to snatch her life away. Still enraged from her loss, vaggie slaughtered lute. With Adam and lute dead the angels retreated to heaven.

That was when it really started to hit her. Charlie was gone. Gone. Gone forever. No one else had even seen Charlie yet, seen her die. So of course they were a bit confused when vaggie fell to her knees hyperventilating. They all watched her in confusion, unknowing. Vaggie didn’t care that she was being watched. She was so consumed by her grief that nothing else mattered to her. Charlie had picked her up off the streets ( literally) at her lowest, and showed her a sort of kindness she never saw in heaven. After time they became lovers, and everything was so sweet. Until she was gone. And without her Charlie, her princess, there was a hole left in baggies heart. A very big hole that no one would ever be able to fill.

After watching vaggie sob for a good five minutes, Angel approached her. He put his hand on her shoulder and asked “ what happened?”

Vaggie was barely able to choke out an answer, but she was able to pull herself together to muster one word. “ Charlie.”

“ she’s… she’s not dead right..?” Angel didn’t want to think she was gone. She’d stood up for him to Valentino of all people, and most people were too terrified of him to stick up for angel.

“ she’s gone.” Vaggie replied. Gone for good. The girl was trapped in a void, previously Charlie was her light, but now all was dark.

“No…” angel spluttered out. “ she can’t be… gone for good!”

“ I’m sorry. I couldn’t reach her in time.” Vaggie said, blue tears falling down her face at possibly an even faster pace than before.

“ it’s not your fault.” Angel replied, eyes glossing over. “ none of us reached her either, you’re not to blame.”

The next few days were blurred for vaggie. She didn’t eat, all she did was occasionally get up to use the toilet. All she did was lie in bed, thinking of Charlie. How before Charlie would have lay next to her, cuddling but now vaggie was alone. Vaggie moved over to lie on her other side, facing her bedside table.

On her bedside table was a little black box containing two rings. Two rings vaggie had planned to give Charlie after the fight. A proposal that would never happen. That’s what hurt vaggie the most, she never got to propose, never got to show Charlie how much she meant to vaggie. And even worse, no one knew. No one could comfort her about her gone wrong plans.

Vaggie wished night after night that Charlie had survived the attack, and that she would have been able to successfully propose, that they would be married, together forever. But now Charlie’s mortality separated them.

#chaggie #angst #fanfic #ao3fic #ao3 writer #ao3

[eggs-can-draw]

So I am currently undergoing the most ridiculous writer's block ever? So here's a cut part of the Despair Disease AU bc I have nothing else to offer :D Context is basically the night before you're infected w DD, you get this nightmare that's so drastic it can mess with your whole thought process, and that's why victims get strange personality changes? idk man I just needed a reason to give Makoto trauma Technically spoilers for the Danganronpa 3 anime? Plagiarised the scene from it, but changed bits to fit context wise Anyways time to skitter back to the void Have a nice day everyone :D - Scamp Anon

(When Makoto falls asleep, he finds himself in the darkness. He’s dreaming, but he feels strangely awake. He's never had a lucid dream, but he guesses that this must be what it feels like. He glances around, because there’s a nervous energy stuck to him, a persistent buzz in his ear. Then, a soft glow begins to emit from him. Too weak to shed the place with brightness, but strong enough to illuminate the terrors.

 Silhouettes of his dead friends surround him. Their expressions are blank, eyes glazed over, and their bodies deformed. Makoto gags, nausea filling his stomach at the gory sight. You killed them all. He sees spears, fire, blood, blood, but he can’t even be horrified about them, because his eyes catch onto the only moving figure.

“Naegi!” Sayaka smiles sweetly, and Makoto’s heart drops. He takes a sharp breath, but his chest is tight, and he can’t swallow the lump in his throat. Her voice is honey, sugary and teasing, but the taste is bitter in his mouth. The knife is still in her chest. She grins, her eyes empty. Please, I can't breathe, please- “You’re such a liar! Remember you swore to get me out alive? What happened there?”

"I trusted you! I should’ve known better than to put my faith in a liar!"

Liar. The word echoes in the void of his mind, and for a second, it isn’t even acknowledged. It floats around him, like a wisp of vapor, a broken promise. He doesn’t breathe. 

And then it reaches Makoto, and everything hurts. He stumbles to the ground, his knees buckling beneath him, as if hands latched onto his legs and yanked him to their level of hell. He can’t even hear if anyone says anything next, because all of his senses are overwhelmed. He only sees red, crimson and flowing. He only tastes the metallic, sticky warmth that comes from blood, blood that he’s guilty of spilling. A sound rings in his ears, over and over, a scream, a chant - Liar, liar, liar-

And everything is clear once more. There’s no one around. Maybe there was no one there. He laughs, the sound filling the emptiness, and it’s more of a raw sob than anything. Makoto’s alone, because he’s a liar, and a failure, and that's all he'll ever be.

Then Makoto wakes up, grinning with tears pricking at his eyes, and all he knows is the part he’s been given to play. There’s nothing but one crystal truth in his hazy state of mind. He was cast as the liar, and he’ll give the best damn performance he can.)

HOH. HOOOOOOOOH. GOOD SOUP GOOD SOUP BESTIE. THE VIBES OH MY GOODNESS. ABSOLUTELY INCREDIBLE PUTTING THIS ON MY FRIDGE

#eggs can answer #scamp anon #makoto naegi #good SOUP #THE FUCKING VIBES AAAAAAAGH

[starlit-hopes-and-dreams]

Chapter 2 ~ Bad to Worse

Hidden Depths AU

Previous ~ Masterlist ~ Next

Genre: Fantasy whump

CW: buried alive, captivity, creepy/intimate whumper, lady whump, a tiny bit of forced to watch, mention of rape, restraints, knife whump

WC: 1962

A/N: *cough* so I wrote a chunk of this AU in advance, but it was all in Resh's POV. I thought... this next part might work better from Carr's POV. Well... during the rewrite, I... added another scene and never even made it to the part I was trying to rewrite in the first place. Whoops. Anyways, I think this is still pretty tame. We'll get to the good stuff shortly. :D

Carr 

When the tunnel collapsed, Resh shielded her from the worst of it. He had to still be conscious; otherwise, his dead weight, combined with the debris around them, would crush her. But he wasn’t responding to her, and Carr wondered how long it would be before he lost all strength. She wondered how he had the strength to keep from collapsing at all. Something had to have created a pocket of stability, but she couldn’t be bothered to think about it overly much. 

It was so dark. And quiet. Sure, there was the occasional sound of shifting soil as the earth continued to settle, but otherwise, there was nothing except her own harsh breathing. If it weren’t for Resh’s quiet breaths and the warmth of his body seeping into hers, she would’ve felt like she was stuck in some kind of void. 

It should’ve been comforting, knowing she wasn’t alone. Too bad the close proximity of another person without being able to see them was fucking with her head. 

Even though she knew it was Resh over her, knew he was safe, it was hard to keep the anxiety at bay. It certainly didn’t help matters to know that she was trapped. What awaited her was either a slow death by suffocation or an even slower, horrifically painful death at Marcus’ hands. And that was best case scenario. Worst case, he found out she was not the boy she’d been pretending to be. 

There was a hazy, distant thought that death probably wasn’t better than being raped, but her thoughts were becoming less coherent by the moment. Each breath was harder to draw, and Carr couldn’t tell if it was from her increasing panic or the decreasing air supply. 

Needing to anchor herself somehow, she reached up. Her hand encountered something hard and warm–Resh’s chest. There was a steady beat under her palm. Thu-thump. Thu-thump. Her awareness narrowed to that sensation while she tried to match her breathing to the rhythm of his heart.   

Despite her efforts, she was beginning to get light-headed when she felt the earth beneath her push. Her breathing sped up, outpacing the rhythm of Resh’s heart. She dropped her hand. They were pulled through the earth for what felt like forever, and when they emerged, Carr recognized the room immediately, even though she’d only been there once. 

Chalky white limestone marred by rusty splotches. Marcus’ torture room. He’d brought them straight to his torture room. 

Resh pushed away, collapsing on the floor beside her. Carr immediately got to her feet, crouching beside his limp body. Looked like he’d finally passed out. 

Her eyes darted around while her heart thrummed in her chest. The room was empty. Why in the ever-burning fucking pits of despair was the room empty? 

Whatever. She needed to be quick. Looking down, she assessed Resh’s condition. Even unconscious, his brow was creased with pain. Had his magic done that to him? It was such a foreign concept, but one she couldn’t take the time to think about. He probably needed rest, but she tried to shake him awake anyway. 

“Resh, you need to wake up.” Nothing. She shook him harder. “Resh! Please!” She brushed back a dirt-laden curl to cup his cheek. He was always nuzzling into her hand every time she did that. But there was no response. Fuck, this was bad. 

Her breath hitched when she stood, but she forced down the stupid sob trying to escape and cautiously approached the iron-banded wooden door in front of her. There was no time for tears. 

But before she could reach for the handle, the door burst open. Carr jumped back, her heart in her throat. A shiver crawled down her spine when Marcus strode into the room with no less than six guards following behind him. Half the guards split off, heading toward Resh. 

Carr ran, positioning herself in front of him. “Don’t touch him.” She hoped the tremor in her voice wasn’t too obvious. 

Marcus crossed his arms over his chest and laughed. “I don’t think you’re in any position to make demands, now are you?” 

The guards didn’t pause, so neither did Carr. They had no accessible weapons they weren’t already holding. No one was carrying an edged weapon aside from Marcus, and to stand a chance, she would need a blade, not a fucking stick. Baton. Whatever. Carr made a beeline, intending to grab the dagger from the sheath at Marcus’ waist. What she would do against seven people with one relatively small dagger was beyond her, but she had to try. 

She dodged the guards coming for her and darted toward Marcus using every bit of speed she had left. Unfortunately, Marcus anticipated the move and managed to block her. Off balance, she careened away, only to be caught by one of the guards. 

“Where do you want him, my prince?” the guard asked. 

Marcus gestured, and the guard dragged Carr over to the wall on the right. The one covered in vines, where she had been held last time. 

No amount of kicking or twisting loosened the guard’s hold, and when they approached the wall, he threw her against it. The half-healed lash wounds on her back were still sensitive, and the impact sent pain splintering through her. It stunned her when she could least afford it. The vines reached out, ensnaring her within their grip. 

She watched helplessly while the other guards put Resh in chains at the back of the room. The way they positioned him was cruel–on his knees, his arms spread behind him, attached to the wall by a short length of chain. Unconscious, he couldn’t support himself, and when they released him, he sagged forward, shoulders straining. Carr prayed he would wake soon, before they dislocated. 

When they finished with Resh, the guards left the room. Marcus turned his attention to Carr, and she sucked in a breath. Her heart raced while her mind worked on overdrive. 

After everything, this was how she was going to die? Carr supposed she shouldn’t be surprised; life had fucked her over in every way since she’d been abandoned, left to the dubious mercy of the city streets when she was barely more than a baby. But she had never anticipated being tortured to death by what amounted to a spoiled rich kid. 

The thought stoked her temper. Fuck this. Carr lifted her chin when Marcus stopped in front of her. It felt a little like facing off with an asshole pack member. Fucking men were all the same, arrogant pieces of shit who thought they were better than everyone else. 

Well, there was the rare exception, like Resh. Her heart twisted painfully at the situation she had landed them in. She tried not to look at him, or even think about him. Not right now.    

Marcus raised an eyebrow and drew his dagger. He dragged his finger down the edge, almost like he was caressing it. Despite herself, Carr’s eyes flickered down to watch. The blade split his skin so smoothly she wouldn’t have been able to tell he’d cut himself if not for the blood that slowly beaded in a thin line. Her heart felt like a wild animal in her chest trying to get free, but she kept her expression impassive. Bored even. He reached out to wipe the small bit of blood he’d drawn across Carr’s shirt. 

“You look awfully cocky for someone who was found standing over a mutilated body less than a fortnight ago,” Marcus said, twirling the dagger in his hand. “Who then decided to run instead of waiting on my judgment. Although how a worthless piece of trash like yourself was granted a strong enough earth ability to break through my wards is beyond me.” 

Carr snorted. “Your judgment. What a fuckin’ joke.” 

Marcus slammed his hand into the wall by Carr’s head. She suppressed her flinch, just barely, but her skin crawled when Marcus leaned over her. Snarling, he pressed the tip of his dagger to her sternum. It easily pierced the thin cloth of her shirt, just as it pierced the skin beneath. The sharp burst of pain just served to piss her off. 

“This may come as a surprise to you,” she hissed in his face, “but it’s pretty typical for you upper-class noble fuckers to be unable t’keep your dicks where they belong. Think everything belongs t’you, even the fuckin’ gifts the Mother gives us.”    

She had no idea if that was truly why she had such a strong elemental ability, but it was as good a guess as any. 

The vines tightened around her body, squeezing until her breath emerged in a squeak. 

“You’re sadly mistaken if you think you can speak to me that way.” Marcus dug the dagger in deeper, until it scraped against bone. 

Carr shuddered, but the anger coursing through her overpowered the pain. “Fuck you. You’re nothin’ but a limp-dicked wank stain on society who shouldn’t be permitted to draw breath. You’re fucking lucky you had the fortune t’fall outta your mother’s royal cunt, otherwise, you’d’ve been put down like the rabid fuckin’ beast you are–” 

The punch to her gut knocked the air from her lungs, ending her tirade. Which was probably for the best. The stab wound on her chest stung as she struggled to make her lungs work again. 

It didn’t help that Marcus was all up in her space, his rage a palpable force. 

He yanked her head back. “You’ll fucking pay for that. Let’s see how cocky you are when your skin is hanging in strips from your bones.” 

The knife dug into her shoulder, beneath the vines holding her. Marcus dragged it diagonally across her chest, studying her face the entire time. 

As hard as she tried, she couldn’t keep from wincing. This slice felt deep, a line of fire across the top of her breast, through the stab wound over her sternum, across her ribs. She twitched,  her body trying to pull away from the source of the pain. Of course, he noted every reaction, and a satisfied gleam replaced the anger darkening his eyes when he stepped back.    

It was such a relief to have him away from her that Carr trembled, her breathing a bit ragged while he looked her over. Her exhaustion after her efforts to escape, combined with the pain and fear she was trying so hard to hide, was getting the better of her. 

A slight rattle caught her attention. She allowed herself a moment to check on Resh, who appeared to be stirring at last. Dread filled her; she did not want to watch him suffer again. 

Not that she had any chance of avoiding that, not anymore. She blinked away the moisture gathering in her eyes and turned her attention back to Marcus. Goosebumps rose along her arms when she noticed the strange look he was giving her.   

What was that look for? Carr tried to think, to anticipate what was to come, but the wound across her chest burned, distracting her. Her shirt had to be wet with blood; she could feel the edges of it sticking to her skin. 

She could feel the edges… 

Her thoughts stuttered to a halt, her mind fixating on that one detail. That feeling. The edges. The edges of… across her chest…  

Oh gods. 

She looked down, hoping she was wrong, but found exactly what she’d feared. There’d been no way for her to bind her chest in this prison. So, the gash in her shirt clearly exposed her breast. 

Her heart dropped into her stomach, and she slowly looked back up, afraid of what she would find. 

Marcus smirked. “Now what do we have here?” 

Next

Image Description

[ID: The banner is a sepia-colored version of the original blue-green background, with tree branches arching over a set of blue-green eyes, forming an approximation of a face. The words Hidden Depths AU are written in white above the eyes. end ID]

#fantasy whump #magic whump #lady whump #whump #whump writing #original writing #original characters #alternate universe #hidden depths au #captivity tw #buried alive tw #creepy whumper #knife whump #restraints tw

[the-void-8-my-soul]

-he wash blue while he wasn't looking -

(Tw// character death)

As Blue walked back from his short trip to visit his friend Sci’s AU he munched happily on his cookie. He strolled through the portal happily. Just as the portal closed behind him he heard an ear shattering scream. 

Looking up, Blue's breath hitched. Blue strings and red paint scattered across a marred landscape that Blue once recognised as his home. His eyelights shook as he took in the chaos surrounding him. 

Screams of monsters being tortured surrounded him. Echoing off of the cave walls of the underground. Blue raced forward to try and help. Only to stop dead as he gazed up into the eyes of two skeletons he once trusted.

The target red eye’s of Ink and the crazed smile of Error. 

“Oh!” a cheerful Ink exclaimed “There you are! I wondered where you went little swap, I missed you in snowdin when we destroyed that!”

"Shut up squid. Just kill him already. We're wasting time on this world. We have to get three more or else the multiverse will colapse."

"oh! Right! Hehehe sorry I forgot Error. Here, let me just get rid of this one.."  

With a crazed cackle Ink swiped his massive paintbrush down toward Blue, in the hopes of dissolving him with the acid like paint, only for Alphys to jump out of nowhere and shield the shaking Blue. As she dissolved into a puddle she yelled at Blue to get him to run. 

Not thinking Blue turned tail and started racing back  to the slightly concealed cavern where the portal machine was. 

He heard the demonic laughter of the destroyer and creator behind him. Looking back proved to be a mistake as he saw nothing, not just no Error and Ink, but literally nothing. Like the part of the world he called home had vanished into smoke, and it may well have been if what he just realized these two gods were capable of was true. 

Racing around the corner he waited with baited breath as both flew past his hiding spot in pursuit of where they thought he went.

 

When he was quite sure he was alone Blue turned around to the machine… only to realize… he didn’t know how to operate it… 

No no nononononononoooononnoonnonoonnonononoonono! This couldn’t be happening. He had watched Sci fiddle with the machine… insert some DT and.. And… and then a portal appeared… how did Sci do that? How did he??? 

No no no! 

Blue frantically started pushing buttons. C’mon C’mon!!! He thought as he grew more and more desperate. 

He could hear the yells of monsters dying right outside his cave, he knew there was no way to help them... His only hope was to get out.

.....

Nothing was working! He frantically  pushed more buttons, begging for someone… anyone! to hear his silent please for mercy…. 

Wishing he had stayed with Sci just a few moments longer. Wishing Papyrus was here. 

He punched the machine as he sobbed to the empty cave. Only to watch in horror as the machine disappeared into a specks of code.

He looked up… to find he was alone… utterly alone… in a dark space. There was nothing. 

Ink and Error were gone. His friends where gone. His world was gone… 

I T W A S A L L G O N E. 

And he was cast into darkness… 

He fell to his knees. He felt like his chest might burst. 

*Blue is stuck in the void.

*you don't know enough about his location to rescue him yet.

*Try talking to him? 💙Yes 💙No

#The Spare AU #ask the void #underverse #swap sans

[phantoids]

Anyways onto some more fun stuff for the toh au i have planned: Hollow Mind. We all loved that episode, loved to see, loved to sob to it. I think it'd be great to have a version of that. Conveniently, I wrote a little summary of the scenes. Little warning for some horror, mentions of death.

Tommy just in Dream's mind, having gotten separated from Ranboo running from the inner Dream (Ranboo is getting chased by the palisman thing, Tommy chased by Dream. This is after finding out he's a grimmwalker btw, things just go south very quickly because uhhhh Dream did not, in fact, kill the palisman beast and instead just subdued it. It may annoy him but it was backup to chase Ranboo away.) Tommy trips over a root at a dead end, just nearly at the end of a long, long row of brutal scenes of death, the masks of golden guards left decaying and tangled in gnarled roots. And then? then a hand shoots up from the earth, and another, then a leg, then a second, the thing pulling itself from the rot and decay of foul dirt with every limb, like a beast rising from the thick foliage of a dense forest. except the beast looks like Tommy and by titan is the beast angry. He tries to run, tries to turn before it can catch him, before it can give him to Dream to meet a similar fate. The broken joints, cracking and groaning and creaking as the creature moves, freezes him with fear, the winding roots trailing across the ground in criss-cross patterns taking his hesitation as an opportunity to grow over him somewhat, keep him steady and trapped in the ground, almost thirsting to encapsulate him in their grasp. He turns as footsteps approach, meeting the slow grin of Dream, terror turning his blood cold. Something tugs at him, pulling him down, down, down as if he could get any closer to the ground. The horrifying thing is that he is getting closer. The ground swallows him whole and the world goes dark.

Tommy gets lost in the subconscious for a while, a good long while. Ranboo got out, the counter worked, he was pulled from there by Techno. Tommy is still in there. Tommy is still stuck until he isn't and he's standing somewhere, he's unsure if it's real or just another part of Dream's mind trying to assimilate as part of himself, draw Tommy under and tear him apart away from prying eyes - except he knows dream can't do that, knows the man has never been one to pull away from brutality. he has the scars to show for it, too. And so he stands, with the portal framing Dream's figure, the soft yellow light and thrumming blue veins surrounding it buzzing through his bones, threatening to turn the boy to sludge from movement alone. He can't hear what Dream's saying past the ringing in his ears and the anger in the man's voice, doesn't understand what's happening after so long of floating in the void, not until something's grabbing him, something's touching him and then the world is gone again. Thankfully, this time, it's only momentary. Not so thankfully, he wakes up to a notorious wild witch and his apprentice staring him down, though one... one he can deal with just fine. The Boar, however, he doesn't think he can handle, much less escape from. It's comforting to see Phil sitting in the corner, though, an unimpressed look on his face that softens just a tad at catching his eyes, lips quirking up minutely. For once, Tommy has a feeling it's going to be okay, even if he aches everywhere and Ranboo keeps giving him that pitying look and Techno keeps looking two seconds away from punting him.

#void talks about writing #void echos #pig house au #toh spoilers #dream smp #hollow mind #i just love the idea of something worse happening in hollow mind and therefore i present: something worse happening in hollow mind but dsmp #this may also just be to parallel the whole dying thing but also i really wanna write some horror and this is the perfect part for it

[sparkletastic-cookiedough]

Jacob Marley Hired the Wrong Ghost

A Beetlejuice Christmas Carol Part 5/5

Warnings: brief mention of panic attacks and stress (self harm if you squint), guilt, possession, discussions on death, depression, the void, honest emotional and heartfelt conversations, child death, Almost none of this was stolen from Charles Dickens for a change

Scrooge was once again in a place of darkness. Yet unlike the times before, this time it was not the darkness inside of a room- this was different. There was no “inside” to be found here, much as there was no “outside” either. There was no room, no bed, no ceiling or floor. There was nothing except for Scrooge and the demon.

The demon was uncharacteristically quiet, curled in on himself, hugging his knees close to his chest. As Scrooge adjusted to the darkness, he could see the way Beetlejuice’s fingers clawed into his legs, hear the way Beetlejuice’s breathing broke into uneven sobs.

“Beetlejuice?” Scrooge said, reaching out to the demon. Sure, Scrooge was incredibly mad at him, but seeing the demon like this tugged a bit at his now sympathetic heart.

Beetlejuice didn’t respond at first, only coiling himself tighter up, his head pressed harder against his knees. Only when Scrooge gently touched his shoulder did Beetlejuice mumble out a small “I’m sorry”.

“You really should be. I mean, you did drag me into hell.”

The two remained in silence for a while.

“So… where even are we? I expected hell to be more ‘fire and brimstone’ than this” Scrooge asked

“It’s home, at least for me. It’s the ‘nothing and nowhere’ that I’m dragged back to whenever I’m un-summoned.” Beetlejuice said, a bit more calm after some time has passed.

“This place is incredibly boring.” Scrooge noted.

“It’s worse when you don’t have anyone to talk to. I usually try to fix that by summoning clones, but they’re me, so they’re all incredibly annoying” Beetlejuice said.

“So we’re just stuck here forever then?”

“Until I can build up enough juice to pop us out”

“How long will that be?”

“I don’t know.” Beetlejuice answered “Time doesn’t work super well in here, see?” Beetlejuice lifted his sleeve, revealing five different wristwatches, all moving at different speeds, set to different times, and two of them moving backwards. 

Scrooge nodded, and the two had yet another pause of awkward silence between them before Scrooge spoke again.

“Why didn’t you let me leave?”

“Hm?”

“When you were showing me the future, you said I was supposed to go back, but you didn’t let me go. Why not?”

The ghost looked away. “I was jealous. You have a family, people that invite you to their homes! You can eat food! Me, I’m just a dead guy that’s been alone for several hundred years. I don’t have the kind of connections you do. Even if I do get to talk with a ghost or a human or something, it’s always just them wanting me until they don’t need me anymore, and then throwing me out. But even out there, being used and all that? It’s better than being in here, alone. I could summon all the gold in the world into this room, and it wouldn’t change how empty it is.”

Scrooge nodded, having realized the same thing very recently.

“I guess I wanted to hurt you, because I realized you reminded me of everything that I don’t have. I’m a ghost with nearly infinite power, and all I want is a taste of being alive. I’ve gotten it once or twice through possession, but there’s not really a line of people willing to be possessed by a demon.” Beetlejuice said. “But I guess it makes sense, considering I killed a lot of people. Alas, the consequences of my actions, how I tremble under thee”

“It would make sense that the world hates me. I’m a selfish, greedy person” Scrooge said. “But I can change. I will change. Do you think you could change, Beetlejuice?”

“Change into what? A swimsuit?” The demon snapped his fingers, now suddenly wearing a bikini. Scrooge turned away at the scandalous display.

“I meant a better person.”

The demon popped back into his usual attire. “I think I could try the whole ‘doing good deeds’ thing.”

“Then I’ll do my first good deed as well. Beetlejuice, I’d like to make a deal with you.”

“What do you want?” 

“It’s not about what I want, Beetlejuice, it’s about what you want. I’ll let you possess my body.” Scrooge said.

“Wait… really?”

“As long as you promise to behave, and not kill a bunch of people, sure you can possess my body from time to time.”

“This… this isn’t a joke, right?” Beetlejuice asked. Scrooge shook his head ‘no’ and Beetlejuice let out a smile- the first non-malicious grin that Scrooge had seen upon the ghost’s face. “This is officially the greatest day of my not-life” Beetlejuice said, pulling Scrooge into a tight hug.

With the demon’s head placed against Scrooge’s chest, he could hear the old man’s heartbeat

“Wait a second, you’re still alive!”

“Yes?” said Scrooge

“There’s a way out of here for both of us, you just have to summon me.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, total plot convenience, right? Anyway, just do the whole say-my-name- three times thing, and we’re out of here!”

“Okay- let’s go. Beetlejuice… Beetlejuice… Beetlejuice”

In a great flash of light, the pair were back in the world of the living.

///

When Scrooge opened his eyes to the light of morning reaching into his bedroom, he noticed the ghost by his side. 

“I’m alive,” said Scrooge in wonder.

“And I’m not,” said Beetlejuice “but I’m here, by your side, and for the first time ever, I don’t have to go anywhere.” he said with a smile.

Scrooge leaned out the window, taking in a breath of the cold morning air. He noticed a boy outside and called out to him.

“You, boy down there! What day is it today?”

“What day is it? Why, it’s Christmas morning, you idiot!” replied the boy.

Scrooge turned to the ghost “It’s christmas, hear that? Ah, it’s Christmas and I’m not dead!” Scrooge cheered.

“By god, the old man’s gone mad” exclaimed the boy.

Scrooge turned to the boy. “Boy, you know that prized turkey in the butcher shop window? I’d like you to take this money, and go buy it for me”

“Are you insane, old man? The butcher shop is closed. It’s Christmas.”

“Ah well, here’s a penny for your troubles” Scrooge said, throwing down a small coin. 

It wasn’t too long before Scrooge was out on the streets, wishing everyone around him a “Merry Christmas”, those who knew of his old demeanor looking at him extremely confused. Beetlejuice tailed him, invisible to the rest of the world but content to be visible to at least one person.

Scrooge ended up bumping into Fred, his nephew. 

“Fred, my boy!” Scrooge said with a smile “I wanted to apologize for my behavior yesterday, and ask if I might still join you for christmas dinner tonight?”

Fred looked at his uncle, stunned. “I suppose so. What’s with the sudden change in demeanor, uncle?”

“Well” Scrooge said “you could say that I realized the grave error in my ways last night.”

Beetlejuice laughed at Scrooge’s terrible pun. The pair continued on their way, inforrming Bob Cratchit of his new raise (Which Bob was very thankful for) and giving a hefty donation to the Charity men. They even dropped by Paul the Rat, and gave him a rat sized top hat as a christmas present, to which Paul the Rat gifted Beetlejuice an angry bite on the nose. (That night, Paul would be visited by the Ghost of Christmas Rats). 

/////

When Scrooge arrived at Fred’s house that evening for dinner, he was not the same person he was a day ago. In fact, he was not the same person at all- he was currently possessed by Beetlejuice, who was attempting to act human.

The guests stared at him as the man they once thought to be a miserly old man festively enjoying the feast, going on and on about how ‘food tasted so good in a human mouth’. It is fair to say that the guests that night went home incredibly disturbed by the arrival of Scrooge, but not in the way that they expected. 

“Sorry for acting a bit off tonight” Scrooge said to Fred after Beetlejuice had stopped possessing him for the night. “I wasn’t quite myself”

“You know, it was nice to see someone actually enjoying Cousin Eunice’s pie for once. She really appreciated it you know” Scrooge knew that his stomach certainly wouldn’t appreciate it later that evening, but was willing to overlook the ghost’s mistake. “And I’d say that you’re acting in quite an improvement over yesterday. I hope that we can continue to get along like this well for quite a while to come.”

“I swear to you, Fred, I’m a changed man from before. I will be a better person that that greedy old man you once knew as Scrooge- from here on, Scrooge will be a man who is generous, a man who is kind, a man who is sometimes a bit odd” Scrooge said. 

And a changed man Scrooge was! He acted as a second father to Tiny Tim for the next year, until Tiny Tim died due to an unspecified illness- all the money in the world couldn’t fix the fact that they were in a time before modern medicine. He treated Bob Cratchit with the respect a hard working man like that deserved, and Scrooge kept his word, never forcing Beetlejuice back to that horrible nothing-world as long as he lived.

So, as Tiny Tim said before he died “This is the end, isn’t it?”

Which yes, Tiny Tim, yes it is.

[tornsurvivors]

starter for @awesomelyblind​ ; ft. Sylvanas

HAD SHE BEEN A FOOL TO BELIEVE THERE WOULD BE A PEACEFUL DEATH AGAIN, after Arthas was conquered?     Regardless of the fact it was not by her hand. At first, she wondered if it had been that-- she didn’t see him die. She didn’t witness his suffering. But as she drifted aimlessly through the infinite void, she then wondered if it was because she committed suicide-- plunging her cold body into the jagged saronite spikes. Taking her pitiful fate in her own hands like a selfish coward.   (But how could it be considered selfish after everything she’s been through... to her, it was considered an act of mercy on her broken, tormented soul.)   

It isn’t fair!  Rage flared, momentarily before it crumbled under the tidal wave of pure fear upon realizing she was never going to see the light again. She’s stuck here, alone. For an eternity. Arthas had cursed her and there was no way of lifting it now that the former Lich King was dead and their throne awaited for it’s next victim.

A strangled sob was caught halfway through her windpipe, only coming out as a faint whimper. A pathetic fucking whimper. So, this is what she has been reduced to?  ‘Or maybe...’ She begins to think, her figure shrinking and she felt smaller and smaller... laying on her side, curled up in a fetal position. ‘Maybe this is what I get for being vain. For using my people as the arrows in my quiver. Maybe I didn’t do enough.’ 

Pale silver eyes closed and her breath trembled. She never felt cold in her undead body, but now it’s ABSOLUTELY freezing. Long pointy ears twitched, and brows furrowed. She could’ve sworn she heard something within the dark, but considering her position and cruel fate... she marks it off as a desperate belief she would be spared a single ounce of mercy. 

#SYLVANAS THREADS » for the horde! #awesomelyblind #sylvanas dyn tag pending: justice. #VERSE: WARCRAFT // judgement is upon us #suicide tw / #suicide mention /

[enderspawn]

okay but.... ghostbur said he gave himself a surname. and we just.... never learned it??

literally all stream characters were calling him wilbur. he hates being called wilbur or being compared to him bc. well. he’s NOT wilbur. he’s his own person who tries his best to help everyone else around him feel better, even if he has his own issues that can get in the way. something like him giving himself his own surname to separate himself from wilbur is massive for him, and we never got to learn it.

#IM SO SAD FOR GHOSTBUR DUDE #HES SUCH A FUCKING TRAGIC CHARACTER #ESP NOW THAT HES JIST... FUCKING GONE? #STUCK DEAD AND SOBBING AND ALONE IN THE VOID #how long until he forgets #until he forgets what being alive is like #until he forgets friend #until he forgets why he’s even there in the first places #FUCK #mcyt #dream smp #wilbur #ghostbur #og post #hit tweets #(jeb bush voice) please clap

[xutokawa]

s/o finding scratch marks on their back

pairings: atsumu x reader, oikawa x reader

genre(s): angst, fluff in beginning, cheating s/o

warnings: langauge, cheating, allusions to smut, mentions of alcohol

wc: 1.6k

» masterlist

a/n: i feel like writing some angst and nothing says angst like an s/o finding out their partner is cheating :’) send requests for other haikyuu characters if you want some more! i already have a couple drafted up hehe

osamu and iwazumi ver.

kuroo and sakusa ver.

suna and bokuto ver.

akaashi and hinata ver.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Atsumu

Curling yourself into a ball, you tightly clenched at the blanket, trying to imagine Atsumu’s warmth surrounding you. You dearly missed your husband, touch-starved from not seeing him for two days. A smile spread across your face knowing that he would be in your arms again in a couple hours.

You knew dating a pro-volleyball player would mean nights alone in your shared apartment. It was hard at first, but you slowly got used to it, knowing he would walk through the front door and come back home to you.

Later that day, you were quietly humming to yourself while cooking dinner for Atsumu and yourself when you heard the doorknob jiggling followed by the sound of keys. Excitement and anticipation coursed through your body as you quickly went to greet your husband at the door. As soon as the door opened to reveal the blond setter, you rushed into his arms.

“Y/n,” Atsumu breathed into your hair, holding you tight, “I missed you so much.”

Snuggling into his chest, you replied, “I missed you too.”

Pulling away, you looked up at him, “Dinner’s almost ready. Go wash up first.” 

Atsumu placed a quick kiss on your forehead, muttering a quick I love you before picking up his bags and heading towards your bedroom.

Hearing the shower turn on, you returned to cooking. Hands dry from washing the dishes, you decided to go grab some lotion, heading into the bathroom. You stopped dead in your tracks, however, when you glanced at Atsumu. 

Back turned towards you, the setter was unaware of your presence in the bathroom. Red, angry marks lined his broad shoulders as hickeys were dotted across his neck. You hadn’t even realized you were crying until your vision started blurring. Quickly slipping out of the bathroom, you went into your shared bedroom, packing a small bag with your belongings. Silent sobs racked your body as you imagined Atsumu’s breath on another’s neck, whispering sweet nothings into their ears as he gave himself away to them. 

You couldn’t believe it. Your husband, your Atsumu. More than anything, you wanted to know why? What did you not give? Was your marriage worth nothing to him? Texting your best friend, you told them you’d be staying at their house for the night, not offering further explanation. 

Did he mean it when he proclaimed his love earlier? You couldn’t help but wonder how many times he’s done this. How many times has he betrayed your trust, indulged in another person as you patiently waited for his return. Scoffing in anger, you hastily pulled your ring off your left hand, placing it on his bedside table along with a note. Anger surged through your body as you stared at the diamond gleaming at you, memories of the day Atsumu got down on one knee as he asked to spend the rest of his life with you flooding back. That day, you left, never turning back, putting the past five years with Atsumu behind you.

The apartment was noticeably colder when Atsumu finally stepped out of the shower. Quickly changing, he walked out to the kitchen, craving your embrace. He couldn’t wait to sit down and just talk, maybe cuddle and watch a movie until the both of you fell asleep in each other’s arms. The setter missed you dearly during his time away, and he wanted to make up for lost time. However, you were nowhere to be found. He searched through the entire apartment only to be met with silence. 

Maybe she went out to buy something, Atsumu thought to himself. His thoughts were interrupted, however, when he noticed a note on his nightstand. 

‘I’ll be gone for a couple of days. I’ll eventually come back for the rest of my stuff, but I just can’t bear to see you right now. I hope it was worth it. Glad to know our marriage was worth dog shit to you. Don’t come looking for me, the last thing I want to see is you right now.’

The note in the setter’s hands began to shake as he glanced at your wedding ring on the table. He thought he heard the door open in the shower earlier, but didn’t think much of it. It was only when his shampoo ran down his back that he realized he had marks on his back. Atsumu knew he messed up as soon as the deed was over. Your comforting smile continuously flashed through his mind as he pulled his shirt back over his head. He felt sick to his stomach opening his phone to find a text from you telling him to take care of himself when another person’s scent lingered on him. 

He couldn’t lose you. He needed to find you, tell you it was all a drunken mistake. It was the alcohol, not him. The thought of you despising him made the setter choke out a sob, rushing out the door in hopes to catch up to you. It didn’t mean anything to him. It was getting too lonely without you, and he indulged in alcohol in hopes to fill the void. His eyes searched frantically, legs and lungs burning from running down countless flights of steps, hoping to catch a glance of you and bring you back him.

But it was too late. It was over. Atsumu already ruined everything.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Oikawa

Frustration boiled through Oikawa as he rubbed his hands over his face. He didn’t mean to lash out at you, after all, you were just being a caring partner. Concerns for the setter’s health turned into a full-blown argument resulting with you in tears and Oikawa at a local bar, drowning his misery in liquor. His state of mind grew foggier with each shot he downed. So when the scent of perfume engulfed his senses as seductive whispers filled his ears, he gave in.

You were waken up by the sound of a clatter coming from the kitchen followed by a loud ‘fuck!’ 

Groggily, you glanced at the alarm clock on your nightstand.

12:47am

Heading towards the source of noise, you found your boyfriend curled in a ball on the ground. The stench of alcohol overwhelmed your nostrils as you attempted to get your boyfriend to stand. 

You couldn’t help but smile at the ‘I’m so sorry, y/n’s and the ‘Please forgive me’s coming out of your boyfriend’s mouth, assuming he was referring to your earlier argument. Sighing, you laid him down on your mattress, walking towards his closet to grab his pajamas. With great struggle, you successfully peeled the shirt from Oikawa’s back before he flopped back down on the mattress. Preparing to shove his night shirt over his head, your movements froze as you took in the claw marks running down his back. Blood running cold, you glanced at the setter’s face, seemingly peaceful as he slept. 

Anger coursed through your veins at the thought of him running into another person’s arms when your relationship got a little tough.

Pathetic.

You scoffed as you threw his shirt on the ground. Blinded by rage, your mind didn’t register your hand coming in contact with his cheek.

A loud smack sounded through the empty night as Oikawa’s eyes shot open.

“You piece of shit,” you venomously spit out.

Confusion visible clouded Oikawa’s eyes as he began adjusting to his surroundings, obviously sobering up.

“Y-y/n, what was that for?” Oikawa began sitting up, eyebrows furrowed together.

“So what, we have one argument and you decide to go fuck some random person?” You raised your voice at the man sitting in front of you.

“What are you talking about? I didn’t-”

“Cut the crap, Oikawa,” ignoring the pain flashing through Oikawa’s eyes at the use of his last name, “The hickey on your neck and scratch marks are more than enough proof that you cheated on me.” 

Panic flashed in Oikawa’s eyes as he realized what was happening, the gravity of the situation registering in his mind. He cheated on you.

“I-” Oikawa stuttered, words getting stuck in his throat at the thought of losing you. He couldn’t even make excuses, knowing he had been caught red-handed in his infidelity. 

“I’m staying in a hotel for the rest of the night. I’m coming back tomorrow afternoon, and your shit better be out of here by then,” your eyes hardened as you turned around, beginning to pack a small bag with essential belongings. Panic rose in Oikawa as he scrambled to stop you.

“Wait, y/n, let’s talk this out,” Oikawa pleaded, tears welling in his eyes, “We can fix this, right? You can’t leave me, I love you!”

The setter’s heart shattered as you flinched away from his touch, as if it physically hurt you to be near him.

“If you truly loved me, you wouldn’t have cheated on me,” you managed to choke out, zipping up your bag. 

“I do love you, y/n! Please, believe me,” Oikawa desperately pleaded, sobs racking his body, “I didn’t mean to! It didn’t mean anything, y/n, I can fix this, I promise!”

“You seem to have a habit of breaking your promises, Oikawa,” your voice audibly weaker. You needed to get away from him, away from the source of your heartbreak. 

“Y/n, wait! Please-” Oikawa’s voice was cut off by the slam of the front door. 

It wasn’t until 47 missed calls, 118 messages, and 32 voicemails later, that Oikawa realized you were never coming back to him. You had walked out of his life forever, and it was all his fault.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

comment or send me a message to be added to my general taglist!

#hq x you #hq x reader #atsumu angst #oikawa angst #hq angst #hq scenarios #atsumu scenarios #atsumu x you #atsumu x female reader #miya atsumu #atsumu headcanons #atsumu x y/n #cheating #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyu x reader #haikyuu!! #haikyu #haikyū!! #oikawa fic #atsumu imagines #atsumu fic #atsumu fanfic #oikawa fanfiction #tooru oikawa x reader #hq tooru #tooru oikawa #oikawa scenarios #oikawa imagine #oikawa x you

[mercy-burning]

Affection

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Spencer and Y/N decidedly hate each other. But when a near-death experience puts one of them in a coma, their mutual hatred might have to take a backseat— Or will it? Category: Angst / Happy Ending! + Humor and a lil bit of Fluff Content: Strong language, Reader is in a coma, mentions of injury, kissing Word Count: 2.6k

MASTERLIST

NOTE: This one’s for Pom’s ( @imagining-in-the-margins ) September Writing Challenge, Enemies To Lovers! I have another one coming up as well, but this idea wouldn’t get out of my head ever since I watched The Abyss with my dad and I had to get it out 😅 I hope you like it!!

———

I swear to fucking God, if this motherfucker really thinks he—

That was the last thing Y/N thought before she was knocked out cold.

With her line of work, it was natural to assume that she was thinking about the unsub, but unfortunately the criminal she and her team were tracking down was the farthest thing on her mind. Spencer would have chastised her for it— letting something else cloud her thoughts while she was in a dark alley, alone, and with a serial killer on the loose.

"You should be smarter than that!" she could hear him say in that high pitch he always carried when he was upset— especially with her. "If you don't get yourself killed one of these days, then it'll be the rest of us!"

Thinking about it made her blood boil.

"It's your fault," she wanted to tell him. "I had to blow off some steam because you were pissing me off!"

The only thing was... She couldn't tell him.

Well... She could.

He just couldn't hear her, because no one could.

It was like some stupid, cliché movie, where you found yourself standing over your dying body and having to choose whether to live or not. It seemed like the obvious choice, to fucking live, but... Y/N found herself wandering around her hospital room, yelling into the void and attempting to jump back into her own body.

Nothing was working.

And when Spencer showed up, his face red and his hair and clothes all messed up, she wanted to scream at him.

"Hey!"

Nothing. He was practically lifeless as he drifted to the chair next to her bed and sat down. It was nearly impossible to read from his expression and body language how he was feeling, and that alone was enough to make her angry again. (Not that the anger had really gone away since waking up next to her comatose body, of course.)

"Hey! Dumbass!"

Still nothing.

As Spencer just blankly stared down at Y/N's bed, she decided she'd had enough.

"SPENCER FUCKING REID, IF YOU DON'T HELP ME RIGHT NOW I SWEAR TO GOD I'LL HAUNT YOUR ASS UNTIL THE END OF ETERNITY, AND I'M GONNA LAY FAT, STINKIN' GHOST SHITS IN YOUR SHOES, DO YOU HEAR ME? AND—"

"I hate you."

It was a bold enough statement to stop Y/N in her tracks, no matter how quietly he'd mumbled it. She knew for sure that he didn't like her, after years of constant bickering and dirty glares and whatever else, but... The word 'hate' was like a knife that sliced through her joking rage and stopped the whole world around her.

If she wasn't already out of her own body, she just knew she would have felt her soul leave.

Spencer didn't hate anyone. Not that she was aware of, anyway. He found nearly everyone delightful, and vice versa... But for some reason, he hated Y/N.

She scoffed, crossing her arms. "Yeah, well... Feeling's mutual, I guess..."

"You're stupid, and reckless, and you don't think. And you're a goddamn nightmare to work with... You know what— You're a stone-cold bitch."

His words made her physically step backwards, and it felt like if she were a cartoon, there might have been steam coming out of her ears.

"Yeah, well jokes on you, you make it easy," she seethed. "Fuck you!"

"How... How dare you..." he continued, anger reddening his face.

Y/N watched as he balled his fists and leaned in a little closer to her body, his voice tight and strained. "How dare you walk into my life and boss me around and make it impossible to breathe... From the moment I met you, you've brought out this... this fire in me that I can't put out no matter how hard I try, and it's insufferable—You're insufferable, and I hate you, how dare—"

Whatever he was going to say next was cut off by a shortness of breath. Spencer breathed in, loud and choked, and the next breath he let out was nothing short of a sob. His eyes squeezed shut, tears rolling down them and his hands clutched the bedsheets with a vigor and rage that Y/N had never seen from him, even in all the years she'd spent visibly getting on his last nerves.

"N—No," she choked out, feeling her throat tighten. "Don't... Don't turn into a sappy mess on me now, do you hear me, Reid? You hate me, don't... Don't..."

"I don't hate you," he whispered, wiping his eyes and reaching out to grab her lifeless hand. "I hate that you make me feel this way, but... I could never hate you..."

She wanted nothing more than to be able to squeeze his hand back, to tell him, not even necessarily with words but with a simple gesture, that she was right there and wasn't going to go anywhere.

She just... had to figure out how to make that true.

Still, Spencer kept going, a small laugh bubbling up through tears and phlegm. "But I will hate you if you die, because I just know you're gonna come back and haunt me for eternity... Probably... shit in my shoes or something."

Y/N barked a laugh that was true and pure... Happy, even.

The genius may have acted like he hated her, but it turns out he knew her pretty well, perhaps even fondly in one way or another.

To think— All those years she spent seeing him sneer at her, feeling his glare burn into her soul, the amount of times she caught him making faces or inappropriate gestures behind her back, all of it... And the whole time, he was probably doing it with a little flicker of fondness deep within the confines of his heart, which he swore to fill with nothing but hatred for her.

The thought made the little flicker in her own heart burn brighter.

As she wandered closer to her bed, beside Spencer and in front of her own body, she reached her hand out to see if she could touch his face, to give him something...

Even though she had no luck, something shifted when he spoke.

"Just... Come back to me, please? I know I'm not good at apologizing, but if it means I get you back... I swear that I will make up every horrible thing I've ever done or said to you. Just... Please don't leave me."

He laid his head down in his hands and tried not to cry again, every said horrible thing replaying on a loop in his brain like some kind of taunt. He wished more than anything for a chance to make it up to Y/N, and now he might not ever be able to.

"You think I'd leave this mortal earth without getting the chance to kick your ass?"

Everything was so fuzzy and light and brimming with these high emotions that Y/N almost didn't realize she was saying these words and Spencer was hearing them. She almost didn't feel the warmth of her bloodstream beneath layers of skin, the beat of her heart slowly coming back to life at the sounds and smells of the hospital room.

She almost didn't realize that Spencer was grabbing her now, his warm hands covering her cold ones and bringing them back to life as well.

"Screw you," he breathed with absolutely no malice to be detected in his voice.

They shared a smile so bright, no one would have been able to guess that they never got along.

TWO WEEKS LATER

Not only was she stuck at home doing nothing while on suspension (Yes, it turns out that storming off into an alley and not paying attention while on the job, just because a co-worker pissed you off, can get you suspended by Chief Strauss), but Y/N was also being visited by a daily rotation of her co-workers and friends and family, and her house was nearly covered in flower bouquets and baked goods.

It was a nightmare.

The sentiment was nice, sure, but if she had to move one more vase, she was going to start throwing them.

God, maybe Spencer was right, I am a stone-cold bitch...

Thinking of him also put a little damper on her mood.

He hadn't been to visit her once... And she figured that after their nice little moment at the hospital, he'd at least stop by with flowers or an "I'm glad you're not dead!" call, but there was nothing on his end. Not even a text message or a letter.

But for all she knew, their small moment of kindness could have been a figment of her concussed imagination.

Please, she thought, if I brought it up to him he'd probably just laugh in my face.

Rather than a laugh, Y/N heard the bright sound of her doorbell, which normally would have meant a fun unexpected visit or a date she was getting ready for, but by now it only meant another vase of flowers or a pie from a neighbor she still didn't remember the last name to.

Either way, she answered the door with as polite a smile as she could muster, and instead of finding a vaguely familiar neighbor or acquaintance, she found Spencer.

Though, to be fair, he was holding a bouquet of flowers.

"Well, this is a surprise," Y/N drawled, crossing her arms. "I don't even think you've ever been to my house."

She was surprised to see him nervous around her, rather than irritated. And she would have found it endearing had they not been practically mortal enemies from the moment they met... She was suspicious.

"O—Oh, yeah... I know, I just thought... I wanted to come see how you were doing... These are for you."

He held out the flowers, which were truthfully the pretties set she'd received, and it irked her. Because of course he of all people would be the one to tell which kinds of flowers she'd prefer.

"Thanks," she said, taking them from him and allowing him the space to come inside. "Watch out, it's a maze in here..."

While she looked for somewhere to put the flowers on display, she could feel Spencer looking around her space, probably profiling what he could behind a sea of flowers.

"Hm."

Y/N sighed. "What?"

"Nothing. I'm just... I'm surprised this many people actually like you."

Despite the nature of his observation, she found it comforting. That level of playful contempt was what she was used to, and it brought a sparkle to her eye as she turned to face him. "Ha... I'm not a complete bitch, you know."

"Sure."

Between the growing grin on his face and the smirk forming on her own, Spencer and Y/N found themselves falling back into a familiar rhythm. And yet, something about it was still... different.

So much so that Y/N felt honest-to-God butterflies in her stomach when he approached, hands retreating from his pockets and head tilting off to the side. His expression held that look he got when he was trying to figure someone out, usually an unsub. She hated to admit it to herself, but a little part of her always found that side of him extremely attractive.

And now that it was right in front of her?

She didn't know what to make of it.

"What?" she snapped, looking for an excuse to hide any and all attraction she was feeling.

Spencer stepped back a little, breaking away from whatever trance he'd just been in. "God, why do you always have to do that?"

"Do what?"

"You push away every single show of affection! Any time I'm trying to be nice, you just act like it's some big inconvenience to you!"

Y/N laughed. "Ha! That's what that was? Just now? When you insulted me, and then started stalking towards me with that look you get when you're interrogating an unsub? That's what you call affection?"

"That's not... That's not what that was!"

"Oh really? Then what was it?"

"It was part of the routine! Banter! Y—You know, that's our thing! We insult each other, and we act like we hate each other but we... We don't, really..."

The longer he went on, the faster her heart raced. This was the moment in the movie where he inevitably blurted out that he loved her, and in turn she would either kiss him or slap him, or slap him and then kiss him...

But Y/N was still feeling rather playful despite the swarm of butterflies in her stomach begging for some relief.

"Oh?" she prompted, taking a slow step closer to him. "We don't?"

Spencer seemed to get red immediately, and he avoided her eyes. "U—Uh... Well I... I thought... Maybe I read it all wrong, a—and I'm sorry if I did..."

She'd been getting closer meanwhile, and now they were practically toe-to-toe. He did his best to ignore her, taking a few steps back until she cornered him against the front door. And with the way he wasn't doing anything to get out of his predicament, she took that as his acceptance and took another leap.

"What..." she cooed, crawling her fingers up the front of his chest like a spider. "You like me? Hmm?"

When he finally looked down at her, she allowed herself to smile, albeit slowly and with calculation.

In a flash Spencer went from nervous to fed-up, weight seeming to visibly lift from his chest as he sank against the door. "You're messing with me..."

"It's so fun."

"You know what, screw you."

"Is that a promise?"

"Maybe it is. What are you gonna do ab—"

She didn't let him finish.

In an instant, Y/N lunged forward and pulled him down for a kiss.

Even though she thought he might have tried to take control of the situation, he ended up surprising her with a wanton moan as his hands clutched at her sides, holding on for dear life. Their bodies and tongues collided in a mess of years worth of pent-up tension, chaotic and wild and fiercely beautiful in a way that put even the greatest first kisses to shame.

And of course, Spencer had to go and ruin it.

He pushed her away and looked almost panicked. "W—Wait, are you even cleared to do this?"

Y/N rolled her eyes, reaching out for him again. "I'm fine."

"Y/N, you were in the hospital! I thought... I thought you were..."

She appreciated the sentiment, but with her entire body on fire from his touch, she decided she needed more of it. "Yeah, but I'm not... I'm very much alive, and you know what?"

He blinked back at her, watching carefully as she leaned in close to him and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"It's because of you. You make me feel... more alive than I've ever been."

"And... You're not messing with me this time?"

With a laugh,  Y/N shook her head and leaned up to brush her nose with his. "Nuh-uh... But if you'd like to, I'd love to mess with you in a more fun way. And maybe I'll even let you do it back..."

Spencer hummed, feeling himself gravitate towards her more with every passing second. "Deal."

He barely got the word out all the way before she was dragging him through the maze of flora and contained food and into her bedroom, where piece by piece, their hatred and fondness for one another combined to create the most exquisite of nights.

———

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[tartagliaxx]

# 0.05 - THE FIFTH WISH.

╰ ‘I wish to see the sky one last time.’ | Chapter 5 of ‘The Five Wishes You Fulfilled For Me Before I Died’ series

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PAIN WAS SHALLOW WHILST NUMBNESS GO DEEPER. thankfully it has stopped raining and the affectionate peek of the sunlight’s rays gave you at least some kind of comfort. it was not easy being bedridden nor was it easy to feel as if your body was no longer yours but that was how it felt. there was no simple way to describe how you felt at this moment but if you were to try, you’d call it something akin to having your soul stray to the corner of the room, silently watching as your weakened state reduced you to a new level of misery.

beside you was a basin filled with lukewarm water and a damp towel. it was what ajax used when he wiped the cold sweat that erupted out of you from the sheer pain of living. you ought to apologize to him for screaming and breaking him out of his state of relaxation but even speech was proving to be too hard of a chore. besides, not too soon after that, a subordinate of his came to tell him of his new assignment. ajax sobs about his departure, your loose white clothes taking all of his tears as he muttered his final goodbyes. you wished you could comfort him but you couldn’t. he smiles bitterly at your half-dead state, telling you to rest up as he places a kiss over your ring, and with that, he leaves you alone in the silence of your temporary home.

it’s even more menacing now that you could feel death’s pace picking up and in a feeble attempt of denying that this is where it all ends, you crawl towards the bathroom. a loud, muffled thud breaks the unresolved tension in the air and despite the bruises that were sure to decorate your knees later on, you don’t let on as your fragile arms braced themselves on the sink. you wonder where all your strength has gone as you focused on standing up without slipping on the cool tiled floor.

“huh? where are you— hey!” you hear paimon’s panicked scream and before long, you feel able arms support your body from fully collapsing to the ground, “you’re not supposed to be leaving your bed!”

what a sad way to go… weak, stuck in bed, and with too many eyes watching every single move you make… aether wordlessly walks you back to the bedroom but just as you left, you caught sight of your reflection but more so than that, you saw a fitting irony. the eye is the mirror of the soul, yes, but all you saw were glassy voids likened to that of a dead fish. paired with your chapped lips and abnormally ashen skin, you look dead.

“we’ll stay here with you so if you need anything, just tell us… there’s no need to force yourself.”

you sent them a defeated smile before slumping pitifully on your bed as they requested. they meant well but as they looked at you with forlorn gazes, you hoped that they’d just leave you alone.

“where are they?! let me in!”

with most of the strength remaining in your body, you cracked your eyes open just in time to see aether reprimanding someone twice his size stubbornly. you would’ve laughed if not every word you uttered sent you into a bloody coughing fit so you settled with motioning for the familiar man to enter. with paimon’s help, you were able to sit up and lean back into the headboard to appropriately greet your guest. it’s not the best look on you but it was the best you could offer.

“itto…” you winced at the pitiful croak that left you, “thought you were detained again.”

the man in question laughed, one calloused hand reaching back to scratch at his nape in a sudden burst of nervousness, “oh that? psh… it’s no biggie. i just walked out of there like nobody’s business!”

“you did what?!” paimon was an interesting companion and you couldn’t help but be grateful that she was around to voice your thoughts when you couldn’t.

“y’know… just talked to the guards which didn’t work so i waited until midnight before bam! i used my awesome oni strength to burst through the cell and bolted straight outta there!”

“dear lord…” aether sighed in his typical distressed tone as he held the bridge of his nose, “now we’re sheltering an escaped convict?”

“hey! ‘m not a convict… yet but! man, you’re close with kujou tengu right? maybe you could uh… put in a good word for me?”

the traveler frowned. was he seriously expecting him to plead for his case? absolutely not. if he had asked on any other day, he might’ve considered it but… aether’s eyes landed on you and upon feeling his gaze on your skin, you nodded with a sweet smile.

“fine but… don’t let them out of your sight…”

“no problemo! we’re gonna be right over here when you get back!”

he sends one last concerned look at the duo before he was walking out with paimon.

“what… brings you here?”

“well i— okay, i never planned on breaking out. like sure, i did it once or twice before but i wouldn’t do it if it weren’t for something important, yeah?”

thoroughly amused, you nod along as the oni rambled, waving his hands animatedly as he told you about his past experiences. it was far from an answer to your original question but you didn’t bother stopping him. hearing him talk so energetically made you feel better. whether his rambunctiousness was infectious was a question you hoped to find an answer to before the day ends.

“aw crap! i ended up trailing off again aha… yeah so… anyway i— well, it’s the talk of the town mind you because you’re all big and popular here but uh yeah… i heard about your… situation while i’m in there and i just…” itto pauses before awkwardly laughing, “i just didn’t think, and yeah i know… you think that i never do but i figured that i just had to see you right there and then so… here i am.”

you shake your head as a small laugh escapes your lips. only itto would break out of prison because of a few rumors. then again, it’s not a bad thing. his sincerity has reached you well, causing your heart to shudder lightly as you stared at his starry-eyed grin.

“what? what are you looking at?”

“you’re laughing…”

you tilt your head in confusion. was your laugh so horrible? noticing your displeasure coming to your face, itto hurriedly sputtered a reply as he wildly shook his head.

“no! no, it’s not like that! i think you’re beautiful and your laugh is beautiful too so i think you look even more beautiful when you’re laughing.”

your lips trembled at the childish innocence hidden behind his eyes. you tried to stop it, you really did, but in the end, you erupted into a loud, youthful chuckle that was a miracle in your current state.

“you are an intriguing character, itto.”

“huh? oh… uh thanks?”

itto averts his gaze to your bedside table before clumsily pouring you a glass of water. you don’t know why he’s suddenly doing that but it was certainly entertaining to see his large hands envelop the glass and almost the entirety of the pitcher.

“wait… are you getting shy on me?”

at your sudden cough, itto hurriedly handed you the glass before taking his seat, “i’m not shy! i’m the arataki itto of the arataki gang! of course, i’m intriguing! i’ve heard all about it from all kinds of people. it’s just uh… it’s kinda different when you’re saying it.”

you rose a brow, “different? how so?”

the scratchiness in your throat didn’t abate as you waited for his reply. rather, it seemed like the constant strain that came with its use made it worse. logically speaking, you should wrap up the conversation soon but… conversations were nice and it’s been a while since you had one. ever since you collapsed, everyone around you has been babying you to the point that they’ll nag at you if you did so much as speak two sentences.

“like… if you say it, it means it’s real. no questions asked. if others say it, it kinda feels like some of them only say it to play along, you feel me?”

“i’m glad that i’m a source of honesty then.”

itto beamed at you before sighing, leaning into his chair as he nonchalantly crossed his arms, “now that’s over, what do you want to do? no offense but this place’s pretty boring. what do you even do here?”

“nothing… it’s been hard to move as i want and it’s not like anyone’s making it easy for me either.”

he hums in thought and you thought that that’s where the conversation will end but then he suddenly speaks. itto is sporting his wide smile as his brows raise in his excitement. though you’ve known him for only a short time, you knew him well enough to know that it's the face that accompanies his wild, unconventional ideas.

“you didn’t answer! what do you want to do hm? tell me and i, arataki itto, will do my very best to fulfill your wish!”

“i…” your mind wanders to aether who had left with much reluctance. would he mind if you did something nice for yourself in your last moments? “i want to see the sky.”

“huh? that’s it? but you can see it all the way from here!”

“that’s not it…” you laugh under your breath but ultimately decide against explaining the meaning behind your words. with death comes wisdom but that wisdom comes at a cost. you saw no benefit in telling him all about your melancholic realizations when he should be busying himself with doing whatever he wants while he still can.

“okay…? okay! you can get on my shoulders and i’ll take you anywhere you want to see the sky!”

“shoulders? i mean… i’ve heard getting on someone’s back for this but shoulders? why?”

“you’ll be closer that way,” he grins, “to the sky, i mean.”

closer to the sky, huh… that would be nice. without realizing it, you were already placing your palm over his outstretched hand. if it was with itto, you knew you’d be safe. he was reliable in that way.

“okay! hang on tight, ya hear me?!”

you should’ve heeded his words better because, before long, he was dashing through the doors with a speed that was certainly not appropriate to use within the city.

“coming through! excuse me!”

you hid behind your palms. the rapid beating underneath your ribs left a thundering sound that echoed in and out of your ears. you haven’t felt like this in a while! the panicked calls of the elderly and the encouraging laughs of those more carefree sent you hurling towards the height of your excitement. it’s so much easier to ignore the shame that came bubbling inside you at his antics but when he gently squeezed your thighs, you find yourself grinning jovially.

“the hill’s right over there! i’m gonna go speed up a little, ‘kay?”

“itto!”

he only laughs as you squealed, significantly smaller hands compared to his bunching strands of his hair in fright. it stung a little and his pride was even wounded a little (his hair was one of his most prized possessions) but he didn’t pay that much heed. the thought he so gingerly held in his mind was the soft flesh of your thighs and the increasing awe he had stored in his heart for you.

at his speed, everything around you blurred. you can’t recognize the strangers that yelled out their concern for you nor can you smell the sweet scent of dango from the stalls. the blossom petals fall but they were more random pink circles blotting your field of sight. it was nice. the carefree spirit he carried swiftly climbed up to hold you hostage in your close proximity. leaning into him, you welcome the delightful feeling of his glee, and the light trembles in your heart.

“…and we’re here!” itto crouches so that you can get off, leaving one hand by your waist just in case you stumble, “how was your ride? great, right? of course, it’s great because arataki itto is—”

you smile tenderly, placing a chaste kiss on his forehead before he can finish his sentence, “it was great. you’re great. thank you, itto.”

a strange feeling rattles his insides and as he didn’t know any better, it felt as if he too was getting sick. tiny little somethings which he bets, and it must be told that arataki itto never loses a bet, to be a bunch of beetles crawled in the lining of his stomach. the foreign presence then caused the warmth that all too suddenly rose to fan on his cheeks. what was it called? …oh, an infection! that must be it! those cheeky, little children must’ve known that he’ll win the marble game so they laced the prized candies with something to make him lose next time!

itto grumbled about just that and albeit confused, you fondly watched as the blush on his cheeks intensified. as he rambled more and more about his strange infection, the more you realized that these reactions arose from your small affectionate comment. ah… what do you do? he’s so lovely…

“maybe try breathing? you’re starting to pant…”

“hah! your one and oni does not need to breathe! i can spit nine hundred words per minute! watch me!”

you didn’t have the heart to tell him about the headache that came from his loud excitement nor did you make any move to stop him from rapping about… well, truth be told, he seemed to be more focused on saying nine hundred words instead of saying nine hundred words that made sense together. with an entertained gleam in your eyes, you cuddled your knees closer as you watched him stumble over his words. guess he’s running out of vocabulary to muster.

“well uh, i fell short by a few words this time but what do you think?”

the wonderful look he donned proved that he was definitely fishing for compliments to boost his ego and while you typically adore pushing people off their high horse, you figured that it shouldn’t hurt to give him this moment.

your praise has made itto beam impossibly brighter. with his chest puffed out and his teeth bared for all the world to see, it’s hard to think of anything negative about the man. always so strong and always so self-sacrificial, you wonder what goes on inside his head at this very moment when you’re glum existence was a direct contrast against his.

“so how’s the sky looking?”

“i think it’s nice… after two full days of rain, it’s become,” you wheezed and you’re grateful that itto pointedly ignored your suffering as he looked at the sky with you, “it’s become so much clearer than your average day. what about you? anything you’d like to say?”

he’s no poet, that much he can admit, and when it came about the sky that’s just… there for the entirety of the time he’s been alive, there’s very little to say and reply with. awkwardly scratching the skin by his jaw, he briefly glanced at your curious form before parting his lips hesitantly.

“well uh… yeah, it’s lookin’ really blue!”

you blink. blue? involuntarily, you look up at the midday sun and the sky that hosts it. well, yes… it was indeed a vibrant blue with very few wisps of clouds here and there. unable to stop the smile from your face, you hummed in acknowledgment as you inched closer to the warmth emitted by his larger frame.

“yeah… it’s a pretty blue.”

“did i say something wrong?” itto gingerly thumbed at the tears that unknowingly fell from your eyes, “i know that i’m bad at this stuff but there’s no need to cry. i uh… do you wanna hear a joke? i betcha i can bust through your lung!”

“no, no… it’s not like that. i’m just… greatly comforted.”

“huh? you’re happy so you’re crying?”

you scrunch your face before laughing softly, “i wouldn’t go as far as saying that i’m happy. just… relieved. it’s such a pretty day and i think that it’s a… well… a nice sight to die to.”

at his silence, you tilted your head. you’re by no means an expert but the tension in his shoulders was apparent and so was the way he tightly clenched his jaw. whispering his name, itto abruptly adjusts his stature before shooting you a bright smile.

“what’s up?”

you hesitate, “i wanted to ask you if you’re okay but i guess that would be a selfish question. you’ll say that you are for my sake but i know for a fact that death will always bring pain, no matter how much you accept that it is unavoidable.”

“does it hurt you?” he finally asks after a moment’s reflection.

“i’m dying. go figure,” you laugh before solemnly resting your face on your knees, “no matter where i look, i think of the memories i hold dear — the memories i wish i can hold for much longer. if not that, i think of the memories i wish i could’ve made if i had more time. i’d love to say that i’m ready to go but i’m not ready to leave anyone and i’ll never be either.”

“you know,” you start as you pat your chest. it doesn’t ease the pain that you could only liken to being choked by something and at this point, you don’t know if it was your looming death or your emotions doing that to you, “i’m really happy that you’re here with me right now of all people.”

“huh? well, i’m glad you think that but why?” in truth, itto didn’t know why he was special. insecurity was not a good look on him. he knew that. it looks ill-fitting when matched by his proud red horns but at the same time, aether knew you longer and would comfort you with better words. that ginger-headed guy you were rumored to have been with two days ago seemed like he could help you feel better. itto might be prideful but he wasn’t ignorant to forget that you are well-loved by so many people who’d have so much more to offer than he can.

“when i found out i was dying, i began saying goodbye to the people i care about. one told me that he’d do anything to give me comfort. one told me that i’m not alone. one told me that i’d always be remembered and one told me that it’s sad to see me go. i appreciate it, really, but now that i’m here… i feel small. like when people looked at me, all they saw was someone who was dying. it’s the truth, yeah, but i was hoping they’d go easy on me and treat me as if i was still me who they could fool around with.”

“itto is… the first person to look at me, know my situation but still treat me as he would before. he’s the first person to accompany me without saying anything more and it’s the first time i really felt at ease with death.”

he hesitates before shaking his head, “i’m not… who you think i am. i feel goddamn horrible about you leaving but i just… figured that you’d hate to see pity. i know that i would hate it if i was in your shoes and someone looked at me like that.”

“and that’s enough,” you smiled, “because you didn’t look at me with pity, i was able to see the sky again.”

he’s not a complete blockhead and especially not when it came to your feelings. as soon as you uttered the word ‘sky,’ itto realized that those who cared for you must’ve unknowingly locked you up in such a gloomy place because they cared too much. how lonely must it be to stare at the blank ceiling all day with only pitch-black darkness to replace it at night? he can’t even begin to think about how he’ll feel without frowning deeply.

“this is enough, itto…” you mumble as you look at the distant city.

“what do you mean?”

“go.”

he furrows his brow, displeased, “why?”

“i want you to remember me but if you stay any longer, you’d have to remember me like this too… and worse, if we’re unlucky. you’ve done enough for me so you can go and live the rest of your life happily.”

itto doesn’t respond so you shift your gaze again only to find him glowering at you. it wasn’t scary as much as it was sad — like a dog that’s been kicked by his master. the thought made the corners of your lips quirk up.

“you said… that i did well because i accompanied you so i’ll accompany you until the very end. i’m not weak. i’ll shoulder whatever comes of this and look back at it fondly because i—” he pulls you to his chest, “i value my little butterfly too much to let something like this ruin everything i’ve known about them.”

“butterfly? where did that come from?”

“y’know ‘cause… butterflies are pretty and you’re like… seriously pretty?”

also because you were about to fly away soon, were words unsaid.

chuckling softly into his chest, the position made it very easy to hear the comforting sound of his heartbeat. it’s strong and clear like him and you find that small fact to be a source of strength and clarity for yourself as well.

“very eloquent, itto… you may have some talent for poetry with your metaphors.”

“huh? i don’t even know half of those words.”

after you laugh weakly at his exaggerated comment, you raise an arm to point at a particularly fluffy cloud, “that looks like you, itto…”

“where?” he squints, “huh... wait, i think i see it... or nah… nah, i don’t see it.”

“what do you mean?! look! it has your horns and your nice hair…”

“aha! so you think my hair’s nice!”

you shake your head at his prideful remark, “everyone thinks your hair is nice…”

“really? i mean… duh! of course, they do! but if that one looks like me then… oh! that one looks like you?”

“that… that just looks like a crumpled piece of paper…”

“no! look at the curves in the middle! it’s your adorable nose! and-and it even has your lashes!”

you snort as his comparisons become stranger and stranger. you don’t know what exactly he was seeing but he looked so happy trying to explain that you just nod along. unbeknownst to you, even the great arataki itto couldn’t see what he was seeing. he just knows that everything in the sky was now something he’ll forever associate with you and the same goes for everything he’ll ever come across. even now, he finds it very hard to not think of the last time you offered to buy him ramen when passing by a different ramen restaurant. is this how he’ll live when you go?

“i know this might ruin the mood and all but can i ask you something?”

“oh?” you tilt your head to see that his gaze was already on you, “go ahead.”

“do you have those… final will things?”

“a will? well… not really? i arranged for my funeral but that’s about it. why?”

“just thinkin’ if there’s anything i can do for you…”

was there anything you wanted? you couldn’t really think of anything or rather, you didn’t have the opportunity to think of anything. you supposed that you wanted everyone to live on and be happy but that goes without saying. the wishes you had in your mortal life were already met thanks to your close friends so there was really nothing to add to that.

the more you thought about it, the more you felt relief flood your chest. you’ve done many and you think that even if it’s not as much as others, you could go without any regrets. most of your worries lie with everyone’s well-being but that would eventually be cared for because you knew that everyone was also resilient in the face of adversity.

“just… try not to get imprisoned as much and stop trying to endanger your life by eating beans. if someone tells you something mean, defend yourself instead of always letting it go. you don’t deserve such unfair treatment.”

“you sound like grandma oni.”

you stifle another snort, “just look after yourself and i’ll be happy.”

“really? nothing special for you? no lighting up candles and stuff?”

you shake your head slowly. that wasn’t necessary. even without candles or flowers or incense, you knew that you’ll know that they’re remembering you and with that said, you’ll eventually find your way back to them.

“just look up at the sky once in a while when it’s a good day and remember that i’m looking out for you up there.”

“you’re gonna look after me?” itto laughs before fondly patting your head, “d’you think you can give me more luck when i’m playing around?”

“be on your best behavior and i’ll consider it,” you giggle as you press into him more, “it’s going to be hard work though…”

“hey! whadd’ya mean by that?!”

the whine that spills out of his lips was endearing that you end up smiling dazedly. someone his size wouldn’t be expected to act so childish and clumsy.

“remember how we first met?”

“you mean when you tried to arrest me by stooping so low?”

you weakly slap his forearm.

“okay fine…” he exaggeratedly sighed, “i knew you had no choice seeing as i’m the great and mighty oni so i forgive you. i also wouldn’t know how to defeat me without resorting to underhanded means.”

“so macho and i’d believe you if i personally didn’t see you sobbing uncontrollably for the next hour.”

this time, it was him who felt slighted, squeezing you tightly for a second in a silent payback.

“why are you suddenly bringing this up, hm?”

you giggle, turning around to squeeze his face together much to his complaints about ruining his eyeliner, “everyone really painted you like this big, buff, scary guy when you’re really just a cuddly softie…”

“‘m not soft. ‘m all big and strong.”

“my bad... my big, strong, and cuddly softie, then?”

itto nods triumphantly as if saying ‘yes. that’s so much better’ only to freeze after four seconds as your words sunk into him. yours? he pauses before the widest grin pops up on his face. though only for a short time, he really loved the sound of that.

“arataki itto!”

the both of you jolt in surprise but itto didn’t unwrap his arms. rather, his grip on you only tightened, and strangely, it comforted you. shadows were the only thing you were able to see from up the hill but before long, the figure of kujou sara appears though she didn’t look too happy. on the contrary, itto eases, and out of his lips came a loud guffaw.

“oh, man! i thought it was someone big but it’s just you! how’s it going, kujou tengu?”

“you escaped from prison, kidnapped someone who’s supposed to be on bed rest and now you ask me ‘how’s it going?’ you have some nerve, arataki itto!”

at her mention of you, itto suddenly frowns, reverting back to his protective position, “they got nothin’ to do with this. i’ll personally march back into my cell all nice and obedient later but can’t you go for now?”

“absolutely not! unhand them and let the traveler escort them back to their room this instant!”

he shakes his head indignantly, mirroring her words in what came out to be a mocking remark (even when it was not originally meant to be such), “absolutely not!”

you muffled a laugh and at the sound of it, itto grins proudly much to sara’s further annoyance. any more and she’ll snap her bow in half, you think as you eye her tight grip, “fine! let’s duel right here and now! if i win, you will stop this nonsense and comply as ordered.”

“really?!” if itto had a tail, it’d be wagging dangerously fast by now, “you’re on— wait… on second thought, never mind. let’s settle the score sometime else.”

at his rejection, all of you looked at him in surprise but he only winked in your direction. this man… you sigh in exasperation despite the weak smile that decorated your face. he didn’t need to go this far for you but you doubt that he’ll listen. his strength was comparable to how thick his skull was and while it often made everyone’s lives difficult, it was also what made him so easy to approach, surprisingly.

“are you… hearing yourself?” aether asked in bewilderment.

“uh yeah? ...yeah, i mean my ears are working fine and dandy! i’m just saying that as much as i love the idea of finally pummeling you to the ground, kujou tengu, i'm currently occupied by something more important.”

“uh… i think that’s me he’s referring to…” you awkwardly intercepted before sara, who was looking very displeased, retorts and causes another… catfight, for the lack of better words.

“i’m sure that you know that itto is a man of his word. i know that it’s a strange request to make but please let him be just this once. if he says he’ll cooperate after uh… today, then he will but if not, i’m sure that you're more than capable of sending him back there by force.”

“hey! whose side are you on?”

the hurt look on his face had you complimenting him out of nowhere. a trick that, surprisingly, worked because, in no time, itto was once again donning his usual smirk.

thankfully, aether also vouched for him when you shot him a desperate look. he should know. he’s good at reading the room.

“i— ...fine but i will only be letting you off the hook this once. if this happens again, i’ll make sure that all of inazuma knows of your defeat. again.”

itto sputters as he angrily watched sara walk off with the finesse of someone with regal roots. aether and paimon also followed after her but not without waving you goodbye and whispering ‘you lost that one’ to itto. then again, if sara wasn’t witty and in better terms, worthy, you don’t think itto would ever admit defeat to her. but he has and he has since then challenged her an insane amount of times. it’s honestly a surprise that there wasn’t an arrow between his eyes.

“so uh… where were we?”

you smile mysteriously before settling in between his legs again, back pressed to his chest as you watched the sun gaze at you with much sullenness.

“nothing in particular.”

“b-but… you were complimenting me.”

you chuckle, “do you want another compliment, then?”

at his excited nod, you slowly closed your eyes. the wind was clearer this way. was this what kazuha hears every time? it’s sending you a gentle invitation and you had half of your mind begging you to accept it. how lovely would it be to flutter freely with the wind to accompany you in a dance?

“itto is… one of the best people i’ve ever met and i’m thankful i’ve gotten the chance to meet him and that… he stayed with me until the very end…”

he doesn't know how much time has passed but it must've been a lot. the sun was setting and he always thought that this was the best part of day in inazuma. it's warm but not too warm because the night breeze has began blowing gently. not to mention, the sun's golden halo was also offered to her constituents. he couldn't help but feel bashful when his eyes find their way to you, looking peaceful with your gentle smile and closed eyes. your skin glowed even more thanks to the hour! right... sunsets in inazuma were really the most beautiful.

deciding to leave you be, he averts his eyes elsewhere. even from up the hill, itto spots two young children — siblings, he surmised — laughing as they run around. the boy held a determined stance as he eyed the blue butterfly before him.

“catch it!” the little girl says in between giggles and the boy nods before pouncing on his prey. they watch with bated breaths only to sigh defeatedly as the butterfly escapes in the small gap between his small palms.

“you’re too slow, haru!”

“you’re one to talk, hana! you just watched from behind!”

“hmph! whatever you say but… maybe butterflies aren’t meant to be caught... what if they’re meant to fly away to wherever the wind takes them?”

“huh?” haru scoffs in disbelief, “what a bunch of nonsense.”

hana pouts irritably, “i’m just saying! if pretty butterflies are meant to be held, then it’ll be easy to catch them but because only someone who’s as fast as the lightning can catch them then maybe it’s because you’re not supposed to mess with them!”

the siblings continue their banter and itto finds himself smiling as feels you slide down. gently adjusting his hold, he couldn't help but hug you closer.

“did you fall asleep?” he receives no answer even as he burrowed his face into the crown of your head. you smell nice — like honey and tea — and immediately, he finds himself relaxing despite the shivers in his spine.

butterflies are all too fleeting despite possessing an allure and charm that was destined to enamor everyone they come across. but… wasn’t it cruel for them to be so lovely only for them to fly away before anyone can appreciate them? itto’s chest aches as he remembers the gentle touch you gave him as you whispered such sweet words with a pained smile.

“i guess you have… sleep well, little butterfly.”

unknowingly, all the strength left his body sometime in between, leaving him numb save for the small tremors in his hand as he hugged you closer, tears brushing against your cheeks as he pressed a long kiss on your temple. how could you be so cold?

╰ taglist

@dourpeep @justsidecharacterthings @nightfloweruponahill @chichikoi @genshiningg @bloopsimpsforxiao @midnightraindropme @infinite-cats @horangheyy @zephestia @diaflower @justlynna @bookuya @milasn-uh-ok @scaraslover @arimally

© 2021 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐗𝐗. all rights reserved. do not copy, claim, repost or translate in any platforms but reblogs are appreciated.

#genshin #genshin impact #arataki itto #itto #gi x reader #genshin scenario #genshin imagine #genshin angst #genshin fluff #genshin x reader #genshin x y/n #genshin x you #itto imagines #itto scenarios #itto angst #itto fluff #itto x reader #itto x y/n #the five wishes you fulfilled for me before i died #—𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 #—𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠

[dr3amofagame]

TW; Death mentioned

I had this thought, I was watching the Hunchback of Notre Dame and remember in the beginning where the Gypsy mother ran to the church and claimed sanctuary, but she died on the church steps

What if c!Dream either was let out of the prison or escaped and c!sam chased him down (for whatever reason you want) and Dream runs to church prime in the Holy Land, claiming sanctuary, and maybe Sam accidentally kills Dream on that land in front of the church

this was a FUN ask, anon, sorry it took so long for me to get to it

tw: DEATH, DEREALIZATION, religious themes, blood, grief, vomit, murder, violence, implied torture/abuse, dark themes, dark content, prison arc/pandora’s vault

To be honest, when George opens his eyes, he has no idea if he’s awake or not.

This has become an...alarmingly common occurrence. He’d been bothered by it at the beginning, had spent hours stuck in his own head, dropping and picking up items, counting forwards and backwards, seeking any sign possible that what he was looking at was real and not just a figment of his own dreams. In the end, it’d all been for nothing; he would be 100% sure in reality, that what he was looking at was the real world, only for it to dissolve into shadow and himself back to lying on that same bed in the middle of nowhere that he’d never remembered lying down in. At some point, he must’ve just...given up. It’s not like the dreams were unpleasant; they were the exact opposite, most of the time. Unlike that one reality-bending fit of wakefulness that had ended in him boxed in by lava in the middle of a chamber of red, one that wasn’t a dream, surprisingly enough, his dreams are usually just- normal. He goes to his field, harvests some wheat. Talks to Quackity and Sapnap and Karl, though he’s almost certain he’s not talked to any of the three in a long time in the waking world. Sometimes, he’ll even be visited by a god wearing Dream’s face, XD, though sometimes XD is there in the real world, too, so they’re hardly a determining factor. If he’s really lucky, in the dreams, he’ll even see Dream.

Dream, as he remembers him, not as the monster he’s been told he became. Once, the dream had even dropped in the flustered, confused form of Dream from the beginning of the server, all fluffed up hair and boyish joy. Usually, he’ll see a Dream that’s been let out the prison, hale and whole and sheepish, stuttering through brief apologies and hugging him in that overeager way that makes his ribs ache and then the three of them, for the lack of better words, prance off into the sunset without a worry in their minds.

And then he wakes up.

George rubs at his eyes, looks up at the sky to reorient himself; it looks real. It feels real. The sun is warm on his skin, the grass still wet with dew from the morning, brushing against his ankles as he stands up. He’s in the area behind Punz’s house, his walls and towers looming in front of him, and George blows a breath through his teeth as he goes towards the direction of the Prime Path. There’s no knowing if this is a dream or reality, but either way, standing in one place does nothing for him. Better to get the rest of the day over with than to waste it here.

He’s not even halfway to the Prime Path when sirens sound on the horizon, giving him pause. That’s never happened before. They’re loud, and shrill, and something niggles at the back of his head in a vague sense of familiarity, begging for him to understand and take note. He frowns, and picks up the pace- if he gets on the Path, he might get a better idea of what’s going on. At the very least, if there’s something dangerous, his best bet is the Holy Land.

Surprisingly enough, when he gets there, there doesn’t seem to be anyone around, only the consistent drone of sirens on the horizon. George strains his eyes along both sides of the path; nobody comes, or speaks, or makes their presence known. There’s only George, alone. It’s strangely eerie.

Is this a dream? he considers briefly, before shaking his head. It doesn’t matter.

It’s another several minutes before anything changes. He stands there, at the edge of the Holy Land, until he hears a faint clamor that draws his attention, prompts him to edge forward along the path. The sound, starting faint, quickly swells in volume, underscored by the hum of the siren still ringing in the distance.

First come the shouts, overlapping, too muffled for George to quite pick the words out between the sounds. Then come the footsteps, low and rumbling, making the path creak and shudder. Then-

“Get him!”

George watches, eyes wide behind his goggles, as a dull orange blur reaches the crest of the hill and stumbles down it in a dead sprint, not paying him a second glance as they swing under the arched entrance to the Holy Land to enter within it. They collapse into a heap on the quartz steps- and oh, that’s blood seeping out of them, staining the white red, their hands tight on the stairs as a shivering string of sounds leave their crimson-speckled lips. Their face turns towards him, unseeing, and George feels something splinter, irreparably, in his chest, because that’s Dream.

He’s dreamed about Dream a lot, but never like this. Never injured, like this, face hollow and haunted, scars splitting his skin into shards. The wheezes in his dreams had always been from laughter, not this seething, spitting rattle that emerges from his chest, worryingly wet and irregular. He’s collapsed on the bottom steps of Church Prime, legs bent strangely in a way that must be uncomfortable against the ground, arms resting against the edges of the stairs, all skin and bone and still-bleeding cuts, and he looks like he’ll never be able to stand up again.

“Please, please, pl-please,” he stutters through his sobs, meaningless begs and platitudes falling on George’s ears and making him cringe back at the sound, “please-” and George doesn’t quite know what he’s begging for, doesn’t know what has left his friend in a ruin on the ground, leaving bloodstains on the stone, but the words worm under his skin and into his skull and refuse to leave. Footsteps continue to pound on the path behind him; George turns around, gasps at the sight of two figures, fully in enchanted netherite, thundering over the wood and into the Holy Land.

“What-”

“There!” The voice is rough but familiar, and the figures dash over to where Dream is lying, defenseless. His pleads rise in pitch and volume, becoming almost unbearable to listen to, and there’s an angry clamor of voices and an awful, wet crack and a shrill scream-

Silence.

“Holy fuck-” George’s head is spinning, the voice finally registering- that’s Quackity, stance wide, a sword in his hand. Beside him, tall and imposing, stands Sam, his full set of Warden armor shining brilliantly under the still-rising sun. His hands are wrapped around his trident, gleaming cyan, the end speared straight through Dream’s chest.

“You killed him,” Quackity hisses, head raising and only then meeting George’s eyes. “Sam- what are we going to- you killed him.”

“I-” Sam shakes his head. “I had to, he was going to get away-”

“Sam-” Quackity’s voice pitches higher, more desperate, “Sam, did you- oh fuck, we’re in the Holy Land-”

The air shatters.

That, at least, seems to be the only way to describe what happens; George watches, breathless, as the air shimmers and warps unnaturally, the way his dreams do right before he wakes up, only centralized in the Church entrance instead of surrounding him on all sides. Blood continues to run down the stairs, stark against the pure white of the quartz, so dark it almost seems black. The ripple clarifies, deepens; there’s a sound like ripping fabric, and something carves a tear through what seems to be existence itself. Behind, there’s a starless void, alluring, wanting, calling, dark and deep and everlasting and the End this is The End-

A whirl of white and green and gold, and the tear is gone, leaving something entirely other in its wake. George shivers in his place; he thought that he’s seen XD angry, before, remembers vividly the feeling of being chased, the God’s voice calling after him as he shut the doors of Punz’s house behind him. He remembers the way their voice had glitched, growing deeper and distorted, the rage with which they had growled at him when they thought they were being used.

That all pales in comparison to this. That was all nothing compared to this.

“YOU-” the deity booms, voice echoing and crackling and rolling like thunder and cracking ice and the roar of the ocean on the sand, making George clamp his hands to his ears in vain. “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?”

George remembers being uncomfortable, back then, at how inhuman XD had seemed. Their jokes, gory and violent and startling, their idea of a prank being playing with people like dolls subject to their whims. It had taken him a while to really seem to get the God and for the God to understand him in turn, a while for him to understand that ignorance did not mean malice, that even a God that had never once known mortality could be so startlingly human. Here, their wings spread over them, seeming large enough to block out the sun, something dark and writhing behind the mask they wear, a sourceless wind howling around their robes and battering against the walls with aimless fury, George is reminded by how powerful they really are. That they are still eldritch, still a God, that they will not hesitate to judge those below him, the ones that they stare at, now, helpless and mortal and trapped within their gaze.

Sam stumbles back on the church steps, grip loosening on his trident. It continues to stick up out of Dream’s unmoving body, splattered with blood halfway up the handle.

“Oh no-” he hisses, and Quackity backs away with him, “no, no no I didn’t want to kill him,”

“THIS DOMAIN IS MINE.” Anyone else and it might’ve sounded petulant, childish. Here, with the deity’s fury directed on the two of them, even on the sidelines all George can feel is terror. “YOU HAVE TAKEN A LIFE UNDER MY PROTECTION, MORTALS.”

“Sam,” Quackity’s eyes are wide as saucers. “Sam, we gotta- we gotta run-”

“WHERE WILL YOU GO, LITTLE MORTAL?” XD disappears, then flashes back into existence at the Holy Land entrance, making Quackity and Sam shriek with their escape route blocked. “YOU HAVE ABUSED THE AUTHORITY YOU HAVE BEEN GIVEN AND DESTROYED WHAT WAS NOT YOURS TO BREAK. YOU HAVE PURSUED POWER BEYOND YOUR UNDERSTANDING AND OUTSIDE YOUR POSSESSION. YOU HAVE ENTERED MY DOMAIN, MY REALM. DO YOU REALLY THINK YOU SHALL LEAVE UNPUNISHED?”

“XD,” Sam shouts, and thunder cracks overhead.

“A LIFE FOR A LIFE,” XD rumbles, their words final, and in the end, just as every other time, all George can do when the world ends is watch. Lightning spears to the ground, striking both Sam and Quackity with twin flashes of brilliant white, striking from a clear blue sky. The air sparks from the power, charged with static electricity and making George’s hair stand on end; thunder claps, seems to shatter the world into two as they disappear in twin shrieks and the smell of burned flesh. Just as quick as it happens, it ends, and George is once again left alone in the Holy Land, vomit clawing up his throat and tears stinging the backs of his eyes as he dry-heaves into the grass.

“XD,” he more begs than says, eyes fixed on Dream, still lying too-still on the church stairs. The deity turns to him, their face strangely blank. “XD, please- please tell me this is a dream.”

“Would that make you happy, George?” the god replies, and George sobs, face collapsing into his hands.

“Please, XD, please tell me- please tell me this isn’t real, please-”

“I don’t understand, George. Would that ease your distress?”

“XD- THIS CAN’T BE REAL- THIS- I-” George sinks to the ground. “He- he was supposed to be okay. He was supposed to come back, he wasn’t-” he grips their robes within his hands. “Please, XD, you can bring him back, please bring him back- this has to be a dream, he can’t be- he can’t be dead-”

Through his cries, the sirens continue to wail.

#tw death #tw derealization #tw dereality #tw religion #tw religious themes #tw grief #tw vomit #tw murder #tw violence #tw torture #tw abuse #tw dark themes #tw dark content #prison arc #pandora's vault #-> my writing #my writing :D #my asks !! #-> my asks #g slur