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trashogram · 2 months

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He Chose You (Pt. 9)

Lucifer/Reader: Lucifer chooses you to be the mother of his child. Rated Explicit.

Warning: Character Death, and minor details of childbirth.

“You’re glowing!”

You’d scoffed while watching as your body literally began to illuminate from the inside out.

“Well of course.” You’d snickered, looking from your hands to Lucifer. “Every mother does.”

Your hand came up to clasp your mouth shut, but the Freudian slip was already out there. Lucifer stared at you and you stared back.

Your lips wobbled and torso trembled until you could no longer hold it in and burst into laughter. Elation ran its course, and Lucifer joined you — laughing so hard that he slapped his knee.

When you fell into his arms and let yourself be held, you imagined it would only be for a little while. This bizarro pregnancy had you on some kind of high, and all the worries and doubts that had been building up disappeared.

—

You can’t remember for how long you’ve been walking but there’s discomfort in the soles of your feet. The landscape changes as soon as you truly behold it.

The endless field of tall grass and the trees so tall they could touch the sky had been replaced by golden sand. You could feel its gentle heat on the ends of your toes. Beyond the sand is a gently rolling ocean, lilac beneath a honey gold sky as the sun has only just set. The sound of rhythmic, rushing water is so real and so close that you’re immediately calm.

Memories flood your mind like a sneaker wave. You’re a child again, running away from the water as it laps at you. The shock of the cold water goes away quickly and you want to follow the pebbles and seashells that drift back out with the retreating tide.

You look back, away from the sea, and see the blonde woman behind you. You grin.

She’s wistful.

It stamps down on your joy. The air is salty and wet blowing through your hair and inhaled through your nostrils. You want to speak, but you can’t think of a thing to say.

“I wish this was goodbye.” Her voice carries above the waves, muffling them until they’re nothing but a dull roar.

—

You awoke to the sensation of falling and seized in your bed. Lucifer startled beside you. He’d been sleeping wrapped around your belly; a compromise to laying perpendicular to you so that he could continue talking to the soccer-player in your stomach.

He or she had not stopped moving since they decided to make it known that they were, in fact, not dead.

(You’d chided the baby for that, and for doubling in size in less than two week’s time, much to Lou’s amazement:

“Hell isn’t ready to be ruled by two speed demons.” You’d deadpanned.)

“Huh?” He grabbed you without thought. “What—”

Movement erupted from deep down in your core, muscles clenching and unclenching quickly, forcing you to seize again.

“I think I’m — ugh!” You gritted your teeth. “—I’m going into labor.”

Lucifer doesn’t do anything for a long moment.

Then he flew into a panic before you could say ‘Jesus Christ!’.

—

The hallway outside illuminated with the sheer brilliance of your body, literally glowing. It hadn’t stopped since it started, only a few weeks ago. Fortunately, the glow was tied to an almost paralyzing euphoria. It was the kind of delight that turned your blood into gold while racing through your body. The kind that kept you from complaining that you’d become Tinkerbell.

“Steady. I’ve got you!” Lucifer assured whilst trudging over the carpet with you in his arms.

An influx of pain rippled through you for the first time, providing distraction from the mortification you might’ve felt in that position. It hasn’t escaped your notice that the Prince of Darkness was a shortstack. Your brain had a hard time accepting that for as small as he appeared, Lucifer was capable of unimaginable feats of strength and endurance.

So, you didn’t think about it. Instead you focused on breathing in and out deeply as your partner kicked at the front door of your neighbors’ apartment with the toe of his boot.

As if waiting at the door, Warren Farrow appeared from behind the polished wood. His expression was of minute surprise, but within seconds he was turning back and calling for his wife.

Lucifer managed to pivot the two of you into the Farrow home. Warren guided you with an unusual vigor in his step, as though he were a man decades younger.

“We’ve had it set up for weeks now, Sir.” Warren said gravely.

Through the convulsions, you observed the inlet that Lucifer had taken you into. It was like a roomy closet, covered in tapestries and littered with candles of all shapes and colors.

Warren’s wife was flitting about, quickly lighting the pitch-black surroundings until you could see the mere outline of things.

You were drawn to the center of the crowded room, where a humble white cot covered in white towels contrasted everything else.

It occurred to you then that this entire pregnancy had been a shit show, not the least bit because you’d never gone to any OB. You hadn’t checked in with any hospital, or stepped foot in one — how could you?

Therefore, any and all “check-ups” you’d had had come from your creepy neighbors with their tea and their scrutinizing questions and their buzzard-like stares.

You’d consoled yourself throughout with the brief, semi-serious talk with Mrs. Farrow three months into gestation.

“What? Were you a midwife or something?” You asked incredulously.

“Yes, honey.” Cass had patted your hand like you were a simpleton. “I helped deliver babies for over 15 years. I was younger than you were when I first started!”

You had stared. ‘Oh god, how many crazy cultists are actually nurses in disguise?’

“Here we go, all set. You can lay her down here.” Cassie came over brusquely, smoothing over the wrinkles in the cot before Lucifer put you down.

He laid you on the sheets, light as a feather, jarring as you felt your belly weigh you down. The King didn’t go far, reluctant to let go of your hand. You held on like a vice as well, gripping and squeezing with each contraction.

You felt pinches in and around your abdomen, but the pain was… off. It came not from true agony, but the overworking of your internal organs in contrast to the pleasantness that you embodied post-glow stick phase.

Hearing childbirth horror stories all your life, and just the horrors of raising children in general, you expected to be screaming and thrashing.

This wasn’t as bad as some of your past periods had been. What’s worse than that, however, is the unnecessary guilt you feel for how troublesome it isn’t.

—

Lucifer struggled to remain in one spot as the urge to pace up and down the cramped little birthing room ate at him.

He didn’t want to leave you — not that his two hosts would dare make him, regardless of tradition — but old habits die hard. He was fidgeting, putting all his weight on one foot then the other.

You were his exact opposite, laying placid and relaxed on the birthing bed, eyeing the little room. Microexpressions flitted across your face, some of confusion and some of hurt, but aside from your firm grasp on his hand, and the occasional grunt, you may as well have been dozing off.

Eventually you glanced at him.

“Do you wanna sit down?” You asked calmly.

Lucifer tried to laugh but it came out like a strangled wheeze. “Nahhh, this is fine. I’m fine. Are you fine? I mean I know you’re not fine, but can I do something? Whatever you need, I can get it for you!”

His rambling ends with you bopping him between the eyes teasingly. “You’re silly.”

It’s inexplicable, but Lucifer’s mood lightened at your mellow admonishment. He meets your warm, drowsy expression with an adoring smile of his own.

“I am.” He kissed your forehead. “You’re an angel to put up with it.”

A too-loud rasp interrupted the soft moment of nothing but affection and kisses. Cass was standing at the foot of your cot, hands on each of your knees as she kept your legs apart.

“Get ready, honey. You’re on your way.” She hailed.

–

A cry split through the air and it went straight to your heart.

You gulp down air (Lucifer mimicking you without meaning to) with sweat pouring from your hairline. The lack of pain hadn’t meant a lack of effort, and you still felt like you’d run a marathon just to pass the little being currently wailing in Mrs. Farrow’s arms.

“It’s a girl.” Mrs. Farrow declared.

There was no attempt to hide the sidelong glance she gave Mr. Farrow. The lines and grooves on the elderly man’s face deepened until he resembled a gnarled tree trunk.

“Hmm.” Was his reply, deep baritone rolling like thunder in the tiny room.

Vehement indignance blazed to life inside your mind when the old man looked at you, critical and disappointed. You felt like tearing him and the rest of this old, tacky room to shreds. Yet, exhaustion had planted its roots deep inside of you, and all you could do was glare at the old couple from your makeshift bed.

‘Why does it fucking matter?’

“Gimme my kid.” You growled.

As if to piss you off further, Cass ignored you in favor of wiping the baby clean before passing her off to Lucifer. The old bat presented her to the King like she was a fallen bannerman’s sword, even curtsying while doing it.

It was so weird that it brought you out of your anger for a second.

Lucifer was clearly apprehensive, and his insecurity made the grand gesture stranger. He swallowed visibly, making eye contact with you when he couldn’t break away from the internal turmoil he was struggling with.

“Bring her to me.” You demanded. Lucifer nodded vigorously, cocking a head toward you.

It was fucking nonsensical, but at last Cass obeyed and brought you a bundle wrapped in silky black.

The baby’s wailing tapered off as soon as she’d made contact with you. And like a child on Christmas morning, you shifted to sit up as much as you could and pry open the swaddling cloth.

You sniffled.

All at once, the breath caught in your throat and your eyes welled up with tears.

The newborn was as flagrant as her father in terms of skin tone and hair. She hadn’t yet opened her eyes but already you could see none other than a spitting image of Lucifer himself. Right down to the rosy apple cheeks that made up her pudgy little face.

You were a little surprised to see that she had a nose. A little black smudge, puppy-like - anomalous like the little growths on her forehead and the itty bitty spade on the tip of her wagging tail.

She was perfect.

“I think she’s a Charlotte.” You manage to tear your eyes away from the miraculous hellspawn in your arms just long enough to search Lucifer’s golden gaze. “What do you think?”

His Majesty is a whimpering mess beside you. “Y-yeah. That’s perfect.”

Peeling the blanket back just that much more, you lean toward him. It takes a little coaxing, but sure enough Lucifer traces a delicate claw over the child’s tiny brow.

“Hello Charlotte.” He whispered. “We’re so happy you’re here.”

Adoration overwhelmed you, nigh on visible like the air was tinged with its color, its scent, its warmth cocooning the three of you.

Daddy, Mommy and baby. A strange but happy little family.

Lou embraced the two of you, hiding his face, and subsequent weeping, in the side of your neck while your baby cooed.

The background chants of ‘Hail Princess Charlotte’ and ‘Hail King Lucifer’ were, thankfully, not enough to ruin the moment.

Nothing could. Until.

It doesn’t dawn on you that anything is wrong when the glow has faded. It’s only the incidental look at your fingers, with Charlotte’s tail curled around them, that freezes you. Numbness then began to crawl up your body, as if waiting for the moment that you’re brain would connect the dots. The copper scent of blood made your nostrils flare and heart hammer.

Fear clutched at you in an instant. “Take her. Take the baby.”

Your desperate hiss and barely-there shuffle to push Charlotte into Lucifer’s arms fully had his face falling.

“W-wai-wh-What’s happening?” He asked, panic rising.

Mrs. Farrow is prompt, crone’s face scrunched and nose prominent as if she could sniff out the issue. She’s stood at the end of the bed, already lifting the sheets off your body before you can seek her out.

A stiff hand appears over the covers, covered in shiny dark claret. “She’s bleedin’ too much.”

Lucifer’s eyes blazed from where he hovered. “Why?”

The elderly woman was ready to shrug, but she stalled. Perhaps out of fear. “It happens, your Grace. Birthing a baby takes a toll on the mother, sometimes it’s too much.”

“Then why are you just standing there?”Lucifer bared his fangs, ivory in the lowlight. His eyes were a haze of vermillion, so opaque that you couldn’t find his pupils or the soul inside. “Help her!”

The truly demonic scrape of his vocal chords frightened you, as did the sudden appearance of tusk-like horns protruding from his skull and the fire coming to life between them. His beautiful skin marred and stretched and cracked as if his form were a prison barely containing the true beast within.

Energy crackled in the air, heat rising to blow back your hair and dry the air from your lungs like a flung-open kiln. The breath was stolen from your lungs as ivory wings shot out and overtook what little space was left in the alcove.

Reality was literally distorting around Lucifer’s warped rage.

Mr. Farrow, for all his reticence, reached for his wife’s shoulder from within your line of sight.

“Lucifer.” You hissed, bearing the brunt of his inhuman stare when he turned to you. It took real energy to speak. “I need you… the baby…”

It didn’t take anymore prodding for the blond to intercept your daughter once your desperation got through to him. The Devil slowly shifted back, revealing the depth of his fear in the cloudless turn of his gaze. He met you halfway - finally - and pulled Charlotte close to his chest.

A pang of thankfulness made laughter bubble up from your diaphragm. It hurt. Everything hurt again.

“Stop. Wait.” Lucifer begged, voice turned to ice. Fragile, cracking. His natural white glow had dimmed significantly like a cooling star. “This isn’t— I promised you this wouldn’t happen! This can’t happen!”

A shudder ran through you.

“Hey.” You lifted a hand and placed it on his pale cheek, thumb brushing over where white met red. “Nothing… for it now.”

“No, don’t, that’s… No.” His agony was so palpable, as his fury had been.

“You’re gonna be a great dad.” You murmured.

Lucifer bowed over the side of the bed with Charlotte snug against him. You could feel the warmth of his breath, and then the splash of his tears against your cheek as he broke down. You felt it deep in your bones, and the lump in your throat that choked you.

“Not without you.” He said. “I can’t do this without you.”

A pained smile was your response. Vision a-blur. Cotton tongue.

“You… will.”

Lucifer shook his head fiercely. “I promised you. I swore I wouldn’t let anything happen to you. I can’t… I can’t...”

“Please. Please don’t — ” Anguish turned Lucifer’s once melodic voice into broken notes. “Don’t leave us. Please, please, please.”

His sobs intermingled with Charlotte’s whimpering. She fussed as she was woken from her doze by the growing, tangible urgency. You wished you could calm both of them. Take them in your arms and make it all go away, promise that you weren’t going anywhere.

“Please. Please. Please.” The word fell from the Devil’s mouth like a prayer.

You wondered if he really was praying. Praying to his Father.

It broke your heart.

The candlelight around you was getting brighter as the rest of your surroundings grew dark. Lucifer, as brilliant as he was, lingered somewhere in between. You squinted when his features began to fuse together in your mind. It did little to help, as large, dark shadows blotted out the corners of your sight.

Charlotte was bawling and you fought to open your eyes again. You hadn’t realized they’d closed.

You were so tired. The will to rise up and comfort your baby was dwindling. Everything had succumbed to a thin stream of light in a sea of darkness.

With a breath, and another Herculean effort, you opened your eyes again.

White blinded you.

And then you were nothing.

***

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jocelynscrazyideas · 30 days

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Love Me the way You love Her | Jack Hughes x Reader

warning: language, door slamming, breakup, emotional distress. Cheating?

Summary: Jack and y/n go through an argument. Jack has a past with getting with y/ns bsf. Eva- always there for y/n basckstabs.

A:N- I’m scared that this wont make sense.. anyway here!! First Jack blurb! And it’s an emotional angst!!

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

I’m driving back to my apartment. It’s about 11:27 and it’s pitch black. Stars are shining in the night sky. The moon is out, glistening, telling me to finish my work.

Jack is out clubbing, well as I thought. I think he’s out partying with some other skank, and the other devils won’t tell me about it. I’m done. I know it’s just a stereotype thing about hockey guys paying with women, but I’m serious.

I packed a few bags from jacks house that he shared with Luke. I took all of my clothes, my phone charger, my computer, camera, iPad, and all of the charging cords for them and followed by a few blankets and hair straighteners and other hot tools. I packed all of my 103 pairs of shoes. I made sure nothing I cared about was left at the stupid bulging I called home.

I took my pictures I had of me and Jack off the walls and threw them in the ground. I left the place with glass in the wood planks on the ground and the pictures of me and the Hughes family sitting there, waiting to be noticed.

Luke is out with Jack, and I know Jack is out with some girl named Eva. I’m so tired of being parinoid, so I checked his location.

Jack told me he was out at the pizza place with the boys. Boys as in John, Dawson, Luke, Jesper, Nate, and Jonas. I know for sure that John, Luke and Nate are true.

I texted Jonas asking if Jack was with him, he responded with a plain answer, “no. Sorry.” I know Jonas knows what Jack is up to, so I texted him again,

Where is he then.

I’m not sure, you’d have to ask him.

That’s a lie, I know you guys talk at practice, just tell me. I want to ask him to get me some food when he comes home, but he won’t answer my texts and calls.

Okay, I’ll let him know.

And that’s it. So I texted John. I know John can’t lie to me, so I asked him thorough questions.

Where are you?

At the club, Jack and I are heading out to the bar soon.

Is Luke with you guys?

Yes, and so is Bratter, and Bash.

Okay, thx.

Np, but you want me to deliver a message to Jack?

No.

Great, so not only did Jack lie to me, but so did Luke. I pull into my aprtament complex’s parking garage. I park in my signature parking spot and I lock my doors as I hop out.

I don’t have the energy to carry all four bags back into my room so o carry only two. I bring in my important stuff, my clothes and my electronics.

I set my things down so I can unlock my door on the 7th floor. I know it’s going to be empty, cold, dark, and un crowded. Unfortunately, I moved all of my stuff into Jacks place, stupid idea.

Before Eva cut into my relationship with Jack, Jack and I lasted about 4 years. I’m pretty sure I’ll cry in the morning. So I unpack everything now.

12:34

Text from Buba💗:

where are u?!

Answer my text rn.

I’m driving over.

Are you at your apartment?

Just text me baby!

Are you dead?

Cmon please?

What did I do!

You smashed our pictures, it’s ok. I’ll clean it up later.

I left him on read, I’m sure as hell not dealing with him. I finish unpacking, and I jump in the shower. Nice warm water, un opened shampoo and conditioner, unused body wash, a brand new loofa. A new tooth brush and toothpaste. Flossing my teeth, a new hairbrush. My makeup, that I forgot to mention… yeah I brought it too but it’s in my car, I thought that I would be too busy crying to do my makeup.

After my night routine, I realized I haven’t eaten, so I cooked up a grilled cheese, it was delicious. I revrushed my teeth and re flossed and I head to bed.

-4:15-

I wake up to pounding on my door.

“Y/N OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!” Jack screams out.

He’ll wake up the neighbors.

I get up from bed, i do t use the lights, i have to make him think im still sleeping, but I crawl on my knees to the door. I look at the crack between the door and the floor, I can see two feet and I know it’s Jack.

“please, baby, I know you’re there. I’m sorry. I don’t know what I did, but I love you.”

“That’s bullshit.” I respond, no time to think. I get up from the ground and I ublock the door. Then, within a second I lock it agin. I don’t want to face him right now. I’m in my safe place, my home.

“No it’s not.” Jack says I can hear his guilt in his voice. He knows what he did.

“Eva.” I say as my voice trails off, I can’t help it. I hit my back against the door and I slide down to my butt. My knees up against my chest as I warp my legs in my arms. I sit there against my door, and my used to be love of my life on the other side. I feel my eyes burning, my throat starts to close. I look up at the ceiling light and back down to my red toenails. I start to cry, actually not crying, but bawling.

I cant breathe, it hurts to know my lungs taht I used to catch my breath after going on runs with Jack are being ised.

I can’t stop crying, because I know I didn’t have to cry when I was with Jack.

“I think we should break up.” I maanage to get out from my croaky voice.

I feel Jack put his fist down from the door and he slides down to the same position I’m sitting in. His head agisnt mine, but on the other side.

I hide my head in my knees as I cry, and cry.

“I love you. I really do.” Jack says as he cry’s as well. I can hear him sniffle.

“no, this is the last time i want to hear your voice.” I say, and I get up and slam my bathroom door, letting him know I’m not at the front door of my apartment.

“Please, y/n, stay.”

“This is the last time I’m asking you this, this is the last time. Jack you broke my heart before and I’m not letting it happen again.” I cried out. My tears all over my green tank top, and my pink silky pajama shorts.

“Please.” Jack bellows out, I need him to know if he loves me he’ll let me leave.

Last time he hurt me, I found out he was at a bar dancing with a girl name Sarah, but Sarah was my best friend.

“I’m hurt, Jack just go.”

“It’ll be fixed right? I mean we’ve been through this before! We can fix this!” Jack plead through the door, I can hear the pain in his voice, the hurt in his chest. But i need to rember that he hurt me, and it’s happen before, this was his second as his only chance to fix it.

“no. Jack you got Eva. Go hang out with her.” I cry out. U throw his favorite picture of us together under the door.

It’s a picture of us at the Hoboken Fair. I’m in his arms, his head resting on mine. We both are cheesing, his smile goes end to end, mine is so big you can see my dimples disappear. My eyes in so much love, his eyes set on the camera, I can tell he loves me. I’m dressed in a blue hoodie, that was reeking of jacks cologne, and my shorts were halara skorts.

loved.

It was never love, it was a story that he made up.

He passed under my favorite picture of us.

I was wearing low rise jeans, the ones that go under your belly button, and sit on your hips. I was wearing a small belt, and it had hearts on the pockets that covered my ass. My shirt was a cropped black leather tube top, and I had a really cute shoulder bag on, and Jack was an accessory that clung to my left side. I had my black heels boots on with red bottoms.

Jack was wearing a white striped button down Hawaiian style shirt that was in buttoned and he showed of his abs. Hes wearing my favorite shorts on him, his Nike woven flow shorts in black. He has his favorite white air forces on.

His hair was at his natural curly state, and mine was on a blowout, with curls in a tight half up half down, on top I had braids and I had blue sunglasses that matched Jacks hat.

“You miss our music festies?” Jack asks in a heartbroken tone.

“I’m serious Jack. We need to break up.”

“No. We can fix it.”

“No we can’t.”

“I’ll change, baby I can’t lose you.” Jack harmonized with the deep sound of my fridge.

Jack gets up, his shadow his taller. The door gets heavier, I stand up from my countertop that sits right next to my door.

“I knew you didn’t leave. You do that all the time”

“Jack, I’m not your girl anymore.”

“fine.”

I check the under the door. His shadow is gone, his shoes aren’t at my door. I open the dorr, check if it’s okay for me to sneak out.

Perfect.

I grab my electronics, my clothes, hairbrush, toothbrush, and my shower products. I head to my car. I sit in my drivers seat thinking if a safe place.

Last time this happened, John housed me. This time it’s different.

Jack and I broke up this time. I give my apartment an email:

To whom this may concern,

I’m sad to inform you that I am no longer in need of your rentable service. Room 179 on the 7th wing will be open for a new service. I’ll gather my things, what’s left may be used for the next, or be stored, if not needed you may contact me at (your number).

Sincerly,

Y/n Y/l/n

I already packed everything, I just need to grab my- actually I have everything. So I drive off and I remembered I left the keys at the front desk before I left. So I truly checked out.

-12:15 PM-

It’s been two days since I left my apartment, I have found myself at my bestfriends house, Liz

Jack called me.

“Where have you been?”

“Home.”

“No, your home, is at my house that Luke and I share. It’s your home, you have a bed, a shower, a kitchen, and you have someone who loved you.”

“No, Jack we broke up. It’s not your problem anymore.”

Why did I even answer. I’m over him, I need to heal, it’s for me to be happy. I hear a knock on Liz’s door so I open up.

“Y/N! Please!” Jack says as I open Liz’s front door.

“Go away.”

“Please”

“How did you find me?”

“I know you.”

“No, no you don’t.”

I shut the door and I go on my phone to block his number. I delete I’m his contact, and I unfollow him on Instagram, TikTok, and I un add him on Snapchat. I left him loose. He’s gone.

the last time ill ever feel him pain me.

“I just wish you loved me the way you love her!!” I scream at the door knowing Jack is still standing there. Again, I cry.

“I broke it off with Eva!” Jack says, trying to make me consider being with him again.

I rember the photo that Jack loves, the one of us at the fair. Eva took that photo. He wasn’t staring at me, he was staring at the camera- or so I thought. He was actually looking at Eva.

My favorite picture, us at the music festival, who took the oicture? Eva did, the pretty ashy blonde Eva.

“no, it’s always been Eva. I just seriously wish you loved me the way you loved her.”

#jocelynscrazyideas #hockey #nhl #jack hughes #jack rowden Hughes #nhl fic #hockey blurb #breakup #cheating #jack hughes x reader #emotional angst #🍇🍇🍇#Spotify

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verdantglow · 2 months

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Fuck it, posts my SmallEtho playlist.

Part-Time Soulmate, Full-Time Problem: A SmallEtho/Boat Boys Playlist

(Best listened to on shuffle.)

This is a kinda long playlist (28 tracks), so if you only have time for a few songs, check out: ‘Pyrokenesis’; ‘I Am Fred Astaire’; & ‘Built To Burn.’

Full track list & selected lyrics under cut.

1. Son of a Gun - Motion City Soundtrack

Have you had enough? Are you tough? Are you broken?/Hit me where it hurts, don’t just curtsey & sulk/I know I deserve every elegant word that you’re hurling at me

2. Pyrokenesis - 7chariot

When you say the things you say, they start a little spark/Ignite this small but also highly flammable heart

You’re setting me on fire, I don’t wanna fight it/You don’t need a lighter, you’re a flame/Drowning myself in water only makes it harder/Hard for me to keep myself away

3. Just One Yesterday - Fall Out Boy

I want to teach you a lesson in the worst kind of way/Still I’d trade all my tomorrows for just one yesterday

4. Violently Alive - I Hate Kate

I hate that you’re there/And I’m here/In the same room/Miles from me to you/We’re so distant/But close enough to touch

5. Tiger Teeth - Walk The Moon

Give in, give in, I want you back/One heart, one too many to stomach/Love bites so deep and we got tiger teeth

6. It’s Not A Fashion Statement, It’s A Deathwish - My Chemical Romance

Hip-hip-hooray for me, you talk to me/But would you kill me in my sleep?/Lay still like the dead/From the razor to the rosary, we could lose ourselves/And paint these walls in pitchfork red

7. True Romance - Motion City Soundtrack

I’m a screwup of epic proportions/A walking hand grenade/Hyper-manic, a dime store dramatic/A conduit for pain

She said “Don’t speak, don’t think,/Just take it off, take it off”/I said “Don’t speak, don’t think,/Just mess me up, mess me up”

8. Violence - blink-182

Like violence, you have me, forever and after/Like violence, you kill me, forever and after

9. I Am Fred Astaire - Taking Back Sunday

I’m under the assumption that I’m gonna be the one that’s leaving you/Tonight, oh, tonight/Well I flipped every switch that I could find on my way out/Just to upset you more/Just to keep you busy/Just to make you angry/Just because you were right

I’m stuttering through it, but I hear it/Well I-I I hear it’s good t-t-to stick to what you know

10. The Wolf - The Crane Wives

I am not a tempest/I light torches in my sleep/I have gasoline in my veins/I am always burning, burning burning

11. Crave - Waterparks

I’m cravin’ a getaway from the/Smooth talk that’s keeping me grounded/To the carpet in my room/My quiet blue tomb of you

I wish I could forget you

12. Hold Me Like A Grudge - Fall Out Boy

Hold me, hold me like a grudge/The world is always spinning and I can’t keep up/Faster and faster, can’t do it on my own/Part-time soulmate, full-time problem yeah/Hold me like a grudge

13. Formidable - Twenty One Pilots

You are formidable to me/‘Cause you seem to know it, where you wanna go/Yeah yeah yeah I’ll follow you/But you should know/I might be cynical towards you/But I just can’t believe that I’m for you/Yeah yeah yeah I can die with you/Just let me know

14. Play With Fire - Sam Tinnesz feat Yacht Money

I ride the edge/My speed goes in the red/Hot blood, these veins/My pleasure is their pain/I love to watch the castles burn/These golden ashes turn to dirt/I’ve always liked to play with fire

15. Bulletproof Heart - My Chemical Romance

I’ve got a bulletproof heart/You’ve got a hollow point smile/Me and your runaway scars/Got photographed dream on the getaway mile/Let’s blow a hole in this town/And do our talking with a laser beam/Gunnin’ out of this place in a bullet’s embrace/Then we’ll do it again

16. The Truth Is, You Should Lie With Me - Say Anything

You’re a pretty face, you should like me/I want to get used by you/‘Cause I’m full of hate, just excite me/I want to get bruised by you

17. Red - Pale Waves

Oh no baby, are we gonna make it this time?/I always take hearts that shouldn’t be mine, be mine/Slow down baby, are we gonna make it alive?/You’ve got a face that I always recognize/Always recognize

18. Kill V. Maim - Grimes

I did something bad, maybe I was wrong/Sometimes people says that I’m a big time bomb/But I’m only a man/And I do what I can

19. FUNERAL GREY - Waterparks

I said that you can call me, beep me/If you want my skin/She rolled her eyes and then she said/“I know your dying wish is to be baptized in my spit”

20. Shiver - Motion City Soundtrack

Shiver away, I thought the action was real/Somewhere I know that’s just the way you are/it’s hard to believe that you’re a part of me/And I can’t believe when you carry on and on

21. Kiss With A Fist - Florence + The Machine

My black eye casts no shadow/Your red eye sees nothing/Your slaps don’t stick, your kicks don’t hit/So we remain the same/Love sticks, sweat drips/Break the lock if it don’t fit/A kick to the teeth is good for some/A kiss with a fist is better than none

22. Mr. Brightside- The Killers

It started out with a kiss/How did it end up like this/It was only a kiss/It was only a kiss

23. Tear You Apart - She Wants Revenge

Escape was just a nod and a casual wave/Obsess about it heavy for the next two days/It’s only just a crush, it’ll go away/It’s just like all the others, it’ll go away/Or maybe this is danger and he just don’t know/You pray it all away, but it continues to grow

24. Can You Feel My Heart (Remix) - Bring Me The Horizon, Jeris Johnson

I’m scared to get close/And I hate being alone/I long for that feeling to not feel at all

Holding on, bring me close, feel my heart/Can you feel my heart?

25. Built To Burn - Shaffer James

We’ll build a world/And burn it down/Everything is pretty/When we burn it to the ground

26. Hatef—k - The Bravery

There will be no tenderness, no tenderness/I will show no mercy for you/You had no mercy for me/The only thing that I ask/Love me mercilessly

27. Stupid For You - Waterparks

You’re playing ring around my head/I’ll wear you like a halo/You’re a symphony/I’m just a sour note/I’ll take what I can get/The best is hard to grip when everybody wants you/And everybody wants you

28. My Obsession - Pale Waves

I’m stood still, I can barely breathe/You’re such a mess but you’re always beautiful to me/Run your fingers across my mouth/I’m not prepared to stay here without you

#so I know I said I was gonna do a series of art based on songs from that list #& I probably still will do a couple more!#but right now I am tired of waiting for myself to make a new cover image #or do any of the other paintings #so here it is with cover art being the only song based piece I’ve finished so far #also please tell me your thoughts on these songs if you have any!#I really really really want to discuss these songs with other SmallEtho fans…#okay now maybe my brain will let me focus on something else.#we can only hope.#joel smallishbeans #etho #smallishbeans #ethoslab #smalletho #boat boys #hermitshipping #trafficshipping #part time soulmate full time problem #Spotify

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idk6123 · 2 months

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Unlikely Allies (Peeta Mellark X Male Reader)

It’s the 74th Hunger Games. 12 men and 12 women are fighting in the arena for their survival and to win. If you’re not sane or not in difficult circumstances, you would not volunteer to be a tribute. There are some in rare circumstances however those who would volunteer, like Y/N. He’s from District 5 and is trained from the very start to fight in the games. Whether it’s fighting, booby-trapping or any general survival skills, he is taught. It was only a matter of time for him to participate, and when he turned 18, he volunteered, intending to bring his family away from debt and in the lower class.

Times flashed by for Y/N as he got to the Capitol, do what he got to do and learn his opponents, and finally start the games. Once he realized they’re in a forest, he considers himself very lucky the area isn’t something extreme. Though for his liking, it’s colder then what he’s used to it, since he lives in the west coast.

The games start, and Y/N intends to loot as much as he can. Carefully, he avoids any contact with the Careers, grab what he got and get away. Once in the forest, he continues to gather loot and even got help from his sponsors. His sponsor count is higher then the Average, but less then the careers and those in District 12.

The next day, that’s when Y/N starts his plan. He set up traps around the arena and patiently wait to trap something or someone. He puts nets and rope trap in unexpecting places. If he got a career, he would just ignore them since he knows they probably use one of them as bait.

He got everything set in his mind. Now just to put it true. As he puts the traps around, he hears one spring nearby when he hears a yelp. Carefully, the guy gives up on the trap and goes to the spring trap. As he sneaks through the bushes, he spots who’s hanging upside down, Peeta Mellark. He tries desperately to get out, however once Y/N reveals himself, he looks defeated.

“Please. Let me go.”

“Why? Will you stab me later?” Y/N questions. He looks around, very observing he isn’t going to get jumped on. As the man grabs his knife, Peeta looks extremely panicked.

“I can help you! H-How about I give you my stuff?”

“Looting exists.”

“I have loot somewhere else!” Peeta quickly says right before Y/N slit his throat. “Let me go, and you have it all.”

“Depends. What do you got?”

“Food. Medical supplies. Water.”

Y/N thinks about it for a second. Peeta knows he’s in the clear when the other teen put his knife away. He first begins frisk Peeta to check whether he has weapons or not. Once cleared, he begins untying the rope. With a thud, Peeta falls on the ground.

“Try anything funny, consider yourself dead.” Y/N gets down to grab Peeta by the arm. He put his back facing him with a knife in front of his throat.

“I won’t.”

“Here we are.”

Peeta looks up at a tree. Y/N follows his eyes, seeing a backpack in the tree branches. It’s getting dark, causing Y/N to get impatient. Since Y/N knows it’s risky to climb a tree and get a bruise or something, the 5th man tribute let go of Peeta.

“You get it. Once you give it, you’re a free man.”

Peeta looks unsure at him, before turning back to climb the tree. He wonders if Y/N would kill him once he gave him his loot. But it’s not like he got another choice. Once he climbs up the tree, he grabs the bag. Being up high, he got an idea in his mind. He throws the bag to the ground, with Y/N capturing it.

“Deal done. You’re not going to kill me, and you got my stuff.”

Y/N quickly looks in the bag to check if he got everything. Peeta wasn’t lying, but this opportunity is too good to pass up, since Y/N wants just a couple of things. “I don’t have everything.”

“I-I gave you everything.”

Y/N looks up. “You’re clothes.” He gestures with his hand which has the knife to gestures it to come to him.

Peeta mouth hangs open. “I’m going to freeze!”

“I’m already freezing. Compared to the west coast, this place is a tundra. Now strip!”

With a frown, Peeta complies. He first removes his jacket and drop it down to Y/N, who’s quick to put the cloth on. Then he removes his shoes and socks. Like the jacket, he drops them down as well. Afterwards, he removes his shirt and throws it away as well. With a sigh, he unbuckles his pants as well. Carefully though, he balances himself on the tree branch as he removes his pants. Then he drops them as well.

On the ground, Y/N got all of the clothing and put most of them in the bag, folding them quickly. He then looks up. “No need to be shy.”

“You’re serious!?”

“It’s either goodbye boxers and hello party wear or goodbye life and hello heaven.”

Peeta frowns even further, feeling extremely extorted by Y/N. As he grabs his underwear, his eyes spots something away a couple of feet away, but it’s coming. Y/N sees Peeta’s behavior changing and look at where he’s looking at, seeing the Careers in the distance. With haste, the 18 year old climbs on the tree. Peeta is surprised by the speed, as a matter of 4 seconds, he joined him on the same branch, only to grab him again, cover his mouth and put the knife in front of his throat.

“Make a noise and consider me joining you in the afterlife.”

Peeta calms his breathing as he panics inside. If there is a chance for the careers to spot them, he can only hope it will end quickly. He even closes his eyes, though his apprehend patiently and calmly observes the Careers as they happily chat away. It takes a couple of seconds for them to hear the voices decrease. For insurance, Y/N waits a minute for allow the coast to be clear.

“We’re safe.” Y/N removes the knife from Peeta, allowing him to sigh for relieve. “Because you spotted them, you’re allowed to keep the undies.”

Peeta looks back. “What are you going to do?”

“Go back and sleep.”

Right before Y/N get off the tree, Peeta grabs his wrist. “Please let me come with you.”

“Look Baker Boy, I already spent enough time with someone here far more than my liking. You’re probably a sweetheart, meaning you die. I have no use for you, but you have far more use for me. I can already tell when it’s down to the last 3 or 2 a knife on my back. I’m going.”

“Please.” Peeta stops Y/N again. This time he’s begging. “I know I’m going to die. It’s only a matter of time… but I’m scared. If I come with you, I can teach you to disguise yourself with your surroundings. I also be an extra eye for you when you’re asleep.” The blonde tries his best to convince Y/N. “I don’t need a weapon. I don’t even need my clothes if you want to keep them. Just let me come with you, please.”

Y/N hesitates. Having a companion would be nice, just to have someone look behind your back. He also has a good number of sponsors. Still, that weights down with a potential backstabber and deadweight, since Peeta won’t be allowed any weapons. After considering the choices and seeing the consequences, Y/N made a choice. “Fine, but I’m in charge.”

“You don’t trust me at all, don’t you?”

Back at Y/N’s area, the two guys are up on another tree up high, intending to go to sleep. Both guys are tied up against it, though Peeta’s hands are tied up as well.

“Nope. Don’t like it, you’re free to leave in the morning. Otherwise, deal with it.”

Peeta frowns a bit. He begins to curl up, shivering from the cold. “Can I at least get something warm?”

Y/N rolls his eyes and grabs the T-Shirt from his backpack. “Have fun using it as a blanket.”

“Thank you.”

There is a silence between them. With their position, they can’t see each other, since both guys are on other branches. Still, despite the circumstances, Peeta wanted to get to know his new friend a little better.

“Didn’t you said during the interview you trained for this your entire life?”

“Yep… Guess you didn’t.”

“No.” Peeta looks up at the sky. “I’m a bit surprised you weren’t with the Careers.”

“Just because we volunteered for this doesn’t mean we have anything in common.” Y/N responds back. “They’re ignorant. People like that will only bury their own graves.”

Peeta then wonders what differentiate him with them. “You’re not doing this for glory or something?”

“No, this is just mere practical.” Y/N answers. “You see, my father got an idea to have him rise from poverty. Screw with many women, get children, and put them in this crap and hope one of them get home with money.”

The blonde is surprised at hearing that. “How many siblings did you lose…?”

“As for now, none. I’m the first one to do this. And hopefully the last one. …If I fail, then it’s up to my younger brother… then my younger sister… right until all my 16 brothers and sisters are gone… and any future ones.”

“16, huh?” Peeta can’t imagine sharing a house with that many people. “I guess you have a lot in common in Katniss. She does this too for her sibling.”

“Now that is someone I can respect.” Y/N smirks. “She isn’t a whiner, nor some narcissist. If things were different, I imagine us being friends. Speaking of which…” Y/N turns his head around to talk to Peeta. “If there in any chance we cross paths, who’s side are you going to stay? Isn’t she your girlfriend?”

Peeta chuckles. “I’m not sure, but I try to not get things escalate.” He looks around. “There is something I got to say, but I need to whisper it to you.”

With camera’s all around, Y/N knows the lack of privacy. He moves his body to have his head towards Peeta. “Yes?”

Peeta then begins to whisper. “About my love confession. That is just a mere act. …I actually like guys.” Y/N chuckles, making Peeta look confused. “What?”

“Nothing. I didn’t expect you to be. That’s all.”

Days has passed, and so one tribute after another die. It’s now down to 9 tributes, however that day, they heard 3 cannons. In the dark of night, Y/N and Peeta enjoy their dinner inside of the cave. They await at the entrance to see who died. During the past days, Peeta slowly gained Y/N trust, granting him his clothes back.

“Let’s hope the careers die. If they do, that leaves Katniss and Thresh as the most dangerous.” Y/N comments right before the truth get revealed.

And so, the music starts, and, in the sky, they see those who died. The first one makes Y/N very happy. It’s Marvel. That leaves those in District 2. The second one, however, does sting in both teens hearts. It’s Rue, the girl from District 11. They never interacted with her, but knowing a 12 year old died in these events is always heartbreaking. That’s when also Peeta’s heart shakes. Knowing that the tributes get showed from male to female and each district, he realized that the last one who died is Katniss. He doesn’t even needed it to be confirmed she died as her face shows in the sky.

As the announces begins to stop, Y/N looks back at Peeta, who looks a bit hallow. He put a hand around his friend. “I’m sorry.”

“Thank you…” Peeta sighs, looking upset. He doesn’t continue talking and merely stands up to walk away to sleep.

Y/N looks concerned at him. He stands up as well to cover the entrance with some branches with leaves before getting to some sleep to. Once he lay down, he looks back at Peeta, who looks like he’s tearing up. So, Y/N get closer to him to hug him.

“I’m with you.”

It takes a couple of seconds before Peeta speaks up. “I’m just scared… Katniss was supposed to be the best here… and she died.”

“She was one of the best, but the competition is tough. Cato and Clove are well trained. Thresh as well. My friend is sneaky-”

“And I?” Peeta looks afraid at him. “I just work as a baker, helping my parents.” He let out a nervous chuckle. “We both know my time is ticking.”

“Don’t say that.” Y/N sits up. “Even dark horses have won this game.”

“Let me put it this way. Even if I somehow made it with you to the finale, we both know who survives.”

Y/N frowns sadly. He doesn’t even know what to say. He just wants to say the truth in order to give Peeta hope, but he doesn’t know what to say. “I don’t know what to say… I wish there were a way to win for us both… Even if you don’t believe in yourself, I believe that I’m able to help you.”

Peeta let out a deep sigh. “I know you do that, but that won’t happen.”

Y/N looks at Peeta, who looks back at him. To the blonde surprise, Y/N leans forward and begin to kiss him. Peeta doesn’t even know how to process what’s happening, but kisses back. All the while, in his head, he wonders how the audience is going to react after seeing him kiss another guy after his suppose crush died. However, that won’t let him bother him right now.

Both teens pull back, with Y/N smirking a little. “I know I won’t let your worries disappear, but I’m with you, until the end.”

The next day, Peeta and Y/N both wake up to see them holding each other from when they were still asleep. They know there is something more between them that isn’t just some friendship. But in this situation, it’s hard to admit their feelings for each other. Still, there is hope, as an announcement is going to play.

“Attention all Tributes! The Games makers have instituted a rule change. From this point forward, if two Tributes are the last to survive, both will be declared victors of The Hunger Games! Good Luck! And may the odds be ever in your favor!”

Within an instant, both teens completely wake up to hear the good news. With smiles on their faces, they look at each other.

“We can both win!”

“But… why?” Y/N can’t believe the news, finding it too good to be true. “What would they gain from doing this? They wouldn’t just break the status quo for the sakes of it.” He begins to think of the reasons. “As far I know, we and the careers are the only ones to be teamed up.” Thinking of that, and remembering the hype between Peeta and Katniss, he wonders if that carried over to Peeta and him, now that Katniss is dead. Whether it’s negatively or positively, Y/N knows they are the talk right now. So perhaps with the game makers doing this make the games more engaging.

Despite with the doubts, Peeta doesn’t look effected. “I don’t know. But we need to win now that we have a chance.” He walks over to Y/N to kiss him on the lips.

Y/N takes his words to heart. “True. Let’s do our best to survive.”

#the hunger games #the hunger games x male reader #peeta mellark #peeta mellark x male reader

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master-of-47-dudes · 3 months

Text

So I showed the early stuff off a bit a few months back, but I've finally completed the first draft of Act 1 of my Lancer adventure path, Kindness of Strangers! The deets can be found on the pilot net discord, but:

LRBT-III, otherwise known as Blanche to the locals. This sun-baked dustbowl of a planet has the high honor of being one of the few habitable terrestrial bodies that anyone has discovered in the Long Rim- and probably the only one that's actually any use to anyone. Luckily- or not so luckily, if you ask some people- it was Union that found it first. Well, about 70 years ago when they stumbled across this star system they got it in their heads that the Long Rim's days were numbered. There’s untold millions living out there scattered along the emptiest shipping lane in the known galaxy who'd need a way out once no one needed to pass them by, and by Christ the Buddha Union was gonna be there for them waiting with open arms.

All of that is background, though. You? You’re a bunch of mercenaries who got their hands on a couple of GMSes, decided to make your manna selling violence for pay. Worlds like Blanche don't take to colonies very well, so even two generations in there's still plenty of frontier out there being settled and railroad tracks being laid. The people out there struggle day by day to survive, and people like you are there to protect them from those who got sick of the hard life. Not everyone out there has the guts to stand up for the little guy- that's why you're called Lancers.

A setting and a campaign all in one, Kindness Of Strangers and its (eventual) follow-up Dancing With the Devil are a series of Wild West-themed 2-mission adventures intended to take players from 0-12 as they find themselves embroiled in the midst of a corporate conspiracy to overthrow the Union-backed government of the isolated colony of Blanche and a ploy to seize control over a nearly completed Blinkstation. All the while, a strange religious movement worshipping an eons-dead alien civilization grows ever more influential in the background...

This campaign tackles themes of colonialism, nationalism, corruption, and conflict between indigenous peoples, settlers, and immigrants, all in a world where well-meaning intentions have gone sour and the ghosts of the past have come back to haunt it. It comes with:

- A setting guide for LRBT-III and its weird-as-hell star system!

- A 0-12 campaign split up into two books, Kindness of Strangers and Dancing With the Devil, that are made up of three 2-mission adventures each. And then a final mission to tie things up.

- 4 Alt-Frames: the IPS-N Nemo, the SSC Painted Lady, the Horus Roper, and the HA Grant (still working on these)

- New Reserves! (still working on these)

- New Exotic Gear (still working on these)

- New NPCs! (still working on these)

Things to look forward to:

- Rallying a town to fight off a horde of bandits!

- An epic duel at sunset!

- Accidentally walking into a partial metavault and escaping with the only scars being mental ones!

- A weird amount of references to the works of Tennessee Williams and Arthur Miller, like a probably legally dubious amount!

- Exploding plants!

- Exploding wildlife!

- The **CHRISTHEBUDDHASAURUS**

- Helping striking miners fight off Pinkertons!

- Investigating the bombing of a water filtration plant!

- AND MORE

...so this is really my first time doing this kind of thing so I don't entirely know what all to put here BUT I've put together first drafts of both the Field Guide to LRBT and Kindness of Strangers Act 1: A Streetcar Named Desire. They're not in any state where I can charge for them- I'd call them "playtest and editing ready" rn- but I figure I can share them here so people can give notes. If people think it's cool I could possibly do a kickstarter or something to get the money needed for art and help with editing and lcps and such.

Field Guide to LRBT:

Kindness of Strangers Act 1: A Streetcar Named Desire:

#lancer #lancer ttrpg #lancer rpg #third party content #huge success for me!!!#im happy to finally be ready to share it

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sailoryooons · 2 years

Text

Fix You | One | myg (m)

→ Summary: Your crumbling relationship with Kim Taehyung finally reaches the point of no return after struggling to keep it going after a nightmare you're unlikely to forget. Min Yoongi is there to pick up the pieces – but you had no idea how ready he was to try and fix you.

→ Pairing: yandere!Yoongi x female reader | ft. taehyung x female reader

→ Rating: NSFW & 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging with this content. Any minors discovered interacting with adult content will be blocked immediately.

→ Series Warning: This fic is unsuitable for some audiences. This work contains morally reprehensible behavior, graphic depictions of abuse and murder, stalking, morally ambiguous and morally corrupt characters, and is overall labeled as dead dove do not eat. Each chapter will have a specific set of warnings, but this is your series warning.

→ Series Disclaimer: The members of BTS that appear in this fic are for face and name claims only. They do not represent real-life depictions and are not intended as reflections of characters or values. This is a work of fiction, please treat it as such. This work in no way, shape, or form, seeks to condone abusive and violent behavior.

→ Type: Series

→ Word Count: 6,647

→ Genre: yandere, smut, psychological thriller

→ Main Masterlist: here

→ Series Masterlist: here

→ faq | series playlist |

→ Part of Hali's Happy Agust writing event

→ Chapter Warnings: Mentions of a traumatic experience, mentions of readers father murdering mother during a psychiatric episode, toxic relationship behaviors, failing relationships, reader is kind of a bitch, mentions of trauma and anxiety, a lot of negative thoughts (reader is just upset that she doesn't feel like she is mentally healing), bickering, Taehyung is an asshole in parts but he is Trying™️, reader is very clearly not in a good mental state, mentions of therapy, mentions of triggers that cause ptsd / traumatic responses

A/N: I'm going to be honest, I am for once in my life sort of free-writing this. I have a very loose plan, but I'm a little overwhelmed by all the WIPS I have so I decided to go with the flow on this one. I'm a little unsure how many chapters it's going to be, but I'm thinking between 10 - 12. I have never written a psychological thriller before, but it is a genre that interests me. Please ensure you are reading warnings - I am not trying to romanticize any of the actions featured in this work. This follows the story of reader who has had something traumatic happen, and her journey into... worse things. It's a psychological thriller. Not a romance. Please do not bully me or be hateful about a piece of fiction - I really wanted to branch out my genres.

TAG LISTS ARE NOT AVAILABLE FOR THIS WORK DUE TO IT'S SENSITIVE NATURE. PLEASE DO NOT ASK TO BE TAGGED.

You wake up most mornings screaming. Today is no different.

It mostly happens the same way each time: thrown into sudden alertness, heart beating hard and adrenaline pumping through you so hard you swear you can hear the roar of the rapids in your ears. Sweat clings to you as you crawl from the grave of sleep, clawing at the body bag-like sheet that sticks to your every surface.

When it first started to happen, the adrenaline made you vomit. Sometimes onto the vinyl flooring of your bedroom. Sometimes directly onto your blanket – you’d bought almost seven of them in the past year.

The sickness still haunts you when you wake up, but you’re not vomiting in terror anymore. You’re unsure if it’s because your body has muscle memory. Either way, you’re grateful you can have a glass of water at night without worrying about retching every time your alarm goes off.

Panting, you rip back sweaty covers. They peel from your skin like a second layer, a snake shedding skin every morning before you slither from your bed. The floor is freezing, making you shiver as you dart with acute awareness toward the bathroom, flicking the light on.

Shadows dance across your room. There is a salt lamp in the corner, the orange glow a warm, comforting light that helps you fall asleep. You don’t sleep in the dark anymore. Not after what you have dubbed The Incident.

You turn on the shower and the steam billows over cool white tile and muted, neutral tones. It smells like the eucalyptus bundle tied to the shower head – a recommendation by your therapist. It’s supposed to calm you, though it truly does nothing for the anxiety.

At least it smells nice.

Hot water peels another layer of skin-like terror from your frame. Escaping the sheets is the first part of every morning. Burning away the looming sense of terror is the second part.

This is your ritual. You’ve learned how important routines are. Before The Incident, you had never really considered a ritual or routine. Things were done as needed, you flowed with every bend in the river and every dip in the hill.

Even a slight deviation from your plans now is enough to send you into a panic attack. The spontaneity of life, the terrifying unknown that at any second, everything could flip.

It happened to you once. Why shouldn’t it happen again?

You grit your teeth when you get out of the shower and tap your phone. Taehyung had stood you up for spending the night again, and when you see that your texts to him asking when he was coming over were read at 2:15 in the morning, it’s all you need to know he was out.

Out.

That has become more common for him. Spending time with friends or his brother. Giving you space, despite not having asked for space. You want to beg him to stop giving you fucking space.

Taehyung is the only thing that is a deviation in your life. It makes little sense since you had once been sure of him. But now, it’s difficult to communicate. To cross the gap rapidly growing between the two of you. He’s been bending to the point of breaking, and you have already broken far too severely to meet him halfway.

You feel your temper flare. Just one night. Just one night of comfort. Of reliability. Of things being like they used to be. How many times over the last year and a half have you asked him desperately to just be patient with you?

Too many times.

Taehyung doesn’t say it, but you see the flare in his nostrils when you ask. The slow closing eyes as he takes a deep breath. Counts to five. Opens his eyes, liquid caramel, to look at you and nod curtly.

A small voice whispers he’s been trying. It’s you, not changing.

The louder voice is a hiss: take as long as you need. He should change with you.

If your anger is an animal, it is a black mamba: striking, inky, lethal. You do not hesitate to let the wrath coil and strike. You don’t pull back your venom, delivering each bite and insult with as much pain as possible.

You hate it about yourself – there is a list, but this seems like the easiest one to tackle.

Instead of responding and letting the oily wrath wind you up and encourage you to send a string of texts, you lock your screen and ask your Alexa to play your morning playlist. Soft, soothing sounds of piano fill the apartment. Nothing like the haunting melodies and terrifying crescendos of Mozart, but soft music made for a coffee shop.

Classical music often sounds too haunting for you now, and you hide from all of the parts of the world that could make you feel shadows. Anything to avoid shaded corners, and opaque feelings.

Have you always been afraid of the dark? Your therapist asked.

Quite the contrary. The dark was something that you never had any reason to fear. You’re sure you remember having a healthy aversion to it as a child, but as you grew older, it never occurred to you that monsters could be real. Shakespeare had spoken truly: Hell is empty and the monsters are all here.

You follow the rest of your morning routine: get dressed. Pack your bag. Make your coffee. Grab lunch from the fridge. Head to work.

The organization doesn’t rule your life in all places: there are still piles of shoes by the door, both yours and Taehyung’s. There are piles of books on the table and dishes in the sink that are starting to smell a little too ripe. Your fridge and pantry are not color-coded and you still lose things.

But things are always in the right place in the morning for you: your mug next to the coffee machine, your lunch in the fridge, your purse on the dresser.

There have been terrible mornings when Taehyung had taken your mug from the counter after your shower and left early for a meeting before you, and it had sent you into a spiral so bad that you called him crying, unsure if you were awake or asleep and begging him to come home.

You think that is perhaps when Taehyung no longer started to bend. He had been bending for so long that he had lost all elasticity, dropping until he was boneless and tired.

Tired of you, tired of being woken up, tired of being summoned at the sound of you screaming in your apartment or over the phone.

Sleeping at Taehyung’s is no longer an option. His bed is comforting enough: it smells like him, it’s bigger than yours, and it’s soft. But it’s somewhere you haven’t lived in enough to know every corner, every cranny. You have not spent weeks seeking out the apartment yourself. You have no way to guarantee that your cup will be where you fucking needed it in the morning.

Somewhere between leaving your parking garage and work, you drift. You don’t remember where your mind goes or what songs play through your speakers. When you shut the car off, you stare at the concrete wall of the garage at work and realize you have no idea if any of the lights you passed were green.

It’s like that sometimes.

When you enter the elevator, you shed your third skin of the morning. The last remaining dregs of the nightmare slip away and stay in the parking garage to haunt the shadowed corners filled with cobwebs.

Good. The nightmares have no business being at your job.

Cool air greets you when the elevator doors open. There is a massive sitting area front and center to the editing floor of Kim Publishing, with cute chairs and soft couches. Behind it, there’s an all-glass conference room with empty chairs, dim lights, and presentation screens.

You pass the break room to the immediate right, freshly redone backsplash over the sink and countertops, the smell of coffee drifting through the galley-style window as Lido waves at you from where he blinks tiredly at the machine.

Through a narrow hall of glass-walled offices and out into a complex maze of cubes and cubbies is where you find your little corner of the world, desk lamp dim and diffuser powered down. Jimin isn’t in yet, his laptop closed and his string lights muted.

Jimin is your favorite person in the world, perhaps even more than your boyfriend. You think Taehyung knows that and is grateful that you have Jimin – it gives someone he can share the load with.

You frown when you hang your purse on the hook next to the mini-locker of your desk wall. There’s a cup of coffee on your desk, a green stopper sticking out of the top. You lean over and turn it by the lid, rolling your eyes when you see the note scrawled in neat, slanted writing.

Hope today is a better day.

It would be a better fucking day if Taehyung hadn’t stood you up the night before again. Yanking the chair from under your desk, you sit down and nudge the coffee out of your way, determined not to give it any mind. Buying you coffee won’t make up for the shitty move he pulled.

You try not to think about how it’s been months of this: canceled plans, little fights that always end up with you crying and him apologizing or you apologizing and saying I’m trying followed by his I know.

A coffee on your desk in the morning to say sorry. A note on your screen to try and make up for him not knowing what to say. Sometimes there was even a donut from your favorite place with the coffee, though you had no idea how he made the time to drive out of the way for them – though the gesture was usually appreciated.

Usually being the key word.

Powering everything on, you eye the coffee again. Decide that letting it go to waste isn’t rebelling. You toss the stopper in the trash as Lido passes, warming his hands on his cup. There is a tap on the divider wall between you and the other desk, making you jump in your seat.

“Jesus,” you gasp.

The sound of rolling wheels on the carpeted floor sounds before Yoongi timidly peaks around the front of your desk, which faces the open office with windows and cabinets at your back. “If I could turn water to wine, I assure you that you’d be sipping Prosecco.”

“Hmm. Don’t tempt me.”

Yoongi grins and you grin with him.

Quiet, gentle Yoongi usually keeps to himself. He seems to really only ever talk to you and occasionally Jimin, hard-pressed to roll himself away from his darkened desk. The wall between the two of you is too high to peek over at one another, but you think he wouldn’t bother anyway.

As a senior editor, Yoongi should have his own office. They’re still constructing it – have been for the last seven months – but he’s content to sit on the other side of your wall, tapping occasionally to see if you’re there.

On mornings like this where you are the first two people in the office, he’s more likely to peel himself away from his quick typing. Your coworkers call it the turtle coming out from his shell when he speaks, despite you asking them to stop.

Yoongi is cute – there’s little denying it. Long, black hair that glows like spilled ink behind his ears – which he is often tucking said hair behind. Stormy eyes that remind you of the sea churning against dark cliffs as the thunder rolls. A soft mouth that seems painted to pout, often blush-pink from how often he chews his lips. A button nose that he scrunches when he doesn’t like something, and broad shoulders that he hides under blazers a pinch too big.

But Yoongi is quiet. Unsettlingly so, to most.

The first two months he had been with the company, you can’t remember him speaking much. Your coworkers tried to include him in things, but after the incredibly painful first-day lunch with the team and his refusal to acclimate smoothly at team building, everyone left him alone.

You think he prefers it that way. You don’t blame him.

Despite Yoongi being painfully shy and rarely speaking unless he has to discuss his work, present, or assign editors’ work from above, you liked his calm demeanor. It began to grate your nerves how much Jess and Yelena complained that it was weird that he doesn’t have social media, or that no one knows anything about him, or that he has no idea what TikTok is.

“Did you finish A Little Life yet?” He asks.

“Ugh. Talk about torture porn.”

His laugh is deep and those feline-sharp eyes of his glitter. “Torture porn? Is this another term I don’t know because I am from ye olden days?”

“Please, you are not old. Don’t let those assholes bully you into thinking you are.”

His cheeks are blush-kissed as he tilts his head down. “Thanks.”

“And to answer your question, no. But it’s like the author gets off on hurting characters. Jude literally never had a moment of happiness. Ever. It is pain for him the entire way through.”

“But it’s like that for some people, you know? Sometimes there is no reprieve.”

“I mean, I guess? It’s kind of dark to think that it will always be that way though. I like to try and have a little hope.”

Yoongi shrugs. “Some people were made to suffer.”

You weren’t meant to be here, you were made to punish.

The words come back to you, a bad memory. As quickly as you flashed the smile at Yoongi, it’s gone. He sees your smile drop and his eyes round, unsure what he’s done. You shove down the sour feeling of emotional rot boiling your stomach.

You shove the coffee around with your pointer finger. “I guess. Lots of emails this morning. Yikes.”

He hesitates. “Yeah.” He licks his lips. “I’m sorry if-“

“The turtle is out!” Yelena’s voice ruins whatever apology Yoongi is about to make. You throw her a nasty clare over the top of the screen, but she ignores you. As usual, her eyes are for Yoongi. “Morning, Yoongi. How are you?”

“Fine.”

Yoongi unsticks the wheels from the carpet. Rolls to his side of the cubes. Does not ask Yelena how her day is. She rolls her eyes and continues to her cube, squealing at Lido who is her cubemate that she doesn’t like the smell of his cinnamon coffee.

There are two gentle knocks against the wall between you and Yoongi. Your lips twitch and you sigh, knocking back twice.

Once for bad, twice for good.

It’s a good morning. You are determined to make it so.

So you sip Taehyung’s apology coffee, and get to the emails in your inbox, drowning out Yelena’s yipping and letting the phantoms of your nightmares drift away.

Someone looms over your desk. You look up, blinking the focus from your eyes. You have been dialed in, reading through a new manuscript for a fantasy series. Taehyung looks down at you over the monitor screen.

Taehyung is the most beautiful person in the world, you think. When your mother was alive, she had warned you that poison dart frogs were beautiful as well. She had admitted regret for the statement after your first year of dating him. In your mother's mind, there was no one better for you than Kim Taehyung.

It feels like her death has made the words come true somehow.

His golden hair is styled backward off his forehead, a single strand escaping. He had dyed it gold a few months ago, and though you love his dark hair, it suites his honey-toned skin and his caramel eyes. His bone structure is flawless, dusky lips pulling into a tentative smile. High cheekbones, symmetrical face, piercing eyes with a gaze so intense that it used to be hard for you to keep eye contact with him for long.

“Hi.” His voice is deep and soft. It’s made for crooning, and you love the sound of Taehyung singing to old jazz records while he’s cooking or in the shower. Your stomach flips. He looks tired – sounds tired. “Do you want to go to lunch?”

“I’m pretty busy.”

“Oh. Alright. I was going to go to Kaiju – do you want me to bring you back a roll?”

You start typing again. The anger from this morning sours the thought of him doing something nice for you, despite the coffee he brought you being drained dry. Sushi is one of your favorites, and you haven’t been in a while. “I guess, thank you.”

“Okay.” He chews his lip for a moment. You can hear Jimin typing louder than usual, studiously trying to ignore the awkward tension that is now invading your shared space. “Love you?”

It comes out like a question. One that you don’t have the answer to. Does he love you anymore? Things have been difficult and you feel him drifting away, no matter how many times you try to rationalize that sometimes couples go through tough times.

You feel the strain when you nod. “Love you.”

And you do love Taehyung. It’s just... not easy anymore. You feel stuck, trapped between the nightmares you have at night clawing to be let in and the nightmare of your days riddled with difficulties and misunderstanding.

Taehyung was great when your parents first... passed. Passed is the word you’d started using -like putting a tiny bit of antiseptic on a gaping wound.

It isn’t healing.

At first, he hadn’t left your side after their death, and he had held you through the nights when you were screaming and shaking, or you couldn’t sleep. He was there to press a kiss to your brow, to step into the shower because you couldn’t be alone. He stared at the ceiling with the lights on in your room when you were unable to stand the dark.

It’s been over a year and a half of this, and he’s still here. But he looks tired – says he’s tired. He won’t say it to your face, but he’s angry with you. Angry that you’re not better. Angry that you can’t fix it. Angry that he’s given up so much for you.

Your keystrokes become angry. You have given up plenty for him. You refused a promotion out of fear of nepotism, not wanting to gain more animosity because you were dating the owner’s son, despite said son working in the talent acquisition department and having nothing to do with how you perform.

You have already made concessions. You are trying and spending a good chunk on therapy to be better for him. Just like he had asked.

“You okay?”

“Fine,” You snap at Jimin’s question, irritation viper-quick. You can sense his expression before you sigh and look at him. His blond hair is styled perfectly, brushed back off the forehead, and exquisitely coiffed. “Sorry, Jimin. You didn’t deserve that.”

He doesn’t. For the last year and a half, he has been your only real friend. You have pulled away so much from everyone else that besides Taehyung – and Yoongi at work – Jimin is the only one actively checking on you.

Jimin is an angel. He looks the part: beautiful half-moon eyes that glitter every time he smiles, lush lips made for a Botticelli painting, dainty features that blur the line of feminine and masculine day to day, and a slim, rounded nose that softens him.

He is also impossibly thoughtful and forever kind. He doesn’t get mad that you snap at him. Instead, he spins in his chair, leaning back and linking his hands behind his head. Today he’s in ripped jeans, Chelsea boots, and a creamy Chanel sweater.

“What’s the deal?” He asks, eyes flicking you up and down. “More fighting?”

“Honestly? No. We’re not fighting so much as being angry in silence.”

“Yikes.”

“Yeah. He was supposed to spend the night last night and instead, went out for drinks with Jin.”

“Brother bonding?” You shrug. “He’s been doing that a lot.”

“Yeah. It’s not fun.”

“Have you talked to him about it?” You scoff and roll your eyes. You start typing again, hating the question. Of course you’ve talked about it. You've talked about it a million times. “I’m serious, you have to talk to him about it.”

“And say what? The same thing I've already said a million times?”

“Say that if he can’t do this anymore, he needs to say so.”

Your blood runs cold. You turn to look at Jimin, emails forgotten. You clench your teeth for a moment, taking a deep breath in through your nose. “You mean tell him to break up with me like he’s been wanting to do for months?”

“You don’t know what’s the case.”

“Right. It doesn’t matter. You’re right. He should just break up with me if that’s what he wants.”

Jimin sighs. “That isn’t what I meant, darling. I’m sorry I made you feel worse.”

“It’s okay.” You stand. “I’m going to catch some fresh air. I’ll be back.”

When you get back from your walk, there’s a plastic box of takeout sushi on your desk. Your mouth flickers in a soft smile. You’ve been an ass and you know you owe Taehyung an apology. Probably more.

Jimin gives you a questioning look and with a long, gentle sigh, you nod your head.

Walking is good for you. Sometimes you need to get away and organize your thoughts. It’s so easy for them to get entangled and ensnare you, trapping you within your mind until you’re helpless.

That’s where your demons always find you. Lost in the tendrils of frustration, hopelessness, and self-doubt.

Ever since your parents died, it has become incredibly difficult not to spiral into terrible moods that often leave you feeling gutted. You’ve lost most of your friends at this point. People got tired of having to wear heavy armor for your anger and walk on eggshells around your feelings.

Canyou blame them? You don’t think so.

Angela, the only therapist that you’ve liked so far, keeps telling you that it’s not your job to comfort people about the result of your trauma. If they cannot handle you at your worst while you’re working on it, then you should let them go.

You went through something most people never have nightmares about, Angela had said. It is not your job to remind people that you’re still healing.

While you like that Angela says that, you also wonder if that’s the best advice. Responsibility is a two-way street – your friends are not responsible to mind their every word around you either. Especially not as you approach two years of being like this.

It’s hard. You don’t know what’s right. All you know is that you still feel bad about it, and you’re unsure how to fix it. More time, you think. With more time.

Tossing the endless thoughts into a drawer in your mind, you slam it shut and lock the key to sit down and enjoy your lunch.

Popping open the top, you frown and eye the sushi roll. It doesn’t look like your regular – and you only get two specific rollsfrom Kaiju. Picking one up with your finger, you inspect the creation. You see the bit of green and it smells familiar.

Anger tickles your belly.

“Jimin, can you try this and tell me if this is asparagus?” you ask cryptically, handing out the roll to him.

“Bleh,” he grimaces. “For you? Yeah.”

Jimin holds out his hand and you drop the roll into his palm. He pops it into his face and takes a few inquisitive chews before his face sours, eyes closed into half-moons and lips puckered. He grabs his wastebasket and spits, something that would normally make you laugh, but not in this case.

He sticks out his tongue, making retching sounds as he unscrews his water and takes a few long swigs. “Definitely asparagus. Is he crazy? Aren’t you allergic?”

Your smile is bland. “I am allergic, Jimin. Thank you for remembering that small detail that apparently the man I’ve been dating for over two years cannot.”

“Yikes.”

You push yourself up from your desk and march past Yoongi’s desk. His cat eyes have a question in them, peering at you over his monitor. You shake your head as you pass, storming toward the stairwell that will take you up to Taehyung’s floor. You hope that by using the stairs, your anger won’t be as pointed.

It doesn’t work.

Your steps are fueled by irritation as you march through the marketing and acquisitions office. Eyebrows raise as you go – probably because these departments rarely see you visit Taehyung anymore, in addition to the fact that there is probably steam coming out of your ears.

Taehyung, thankfully, has his own office as a senior talent acquisition agent. His job is to browse social media, blogs, and any other digital space for aspiring authors who have promise. He received the promotion a little over a year ago after breaking Kim Publishing into the fanfiction space, finding the diamonds in the rough among talented online writers.

When you storm into his office, he looks genuinely surprised, hesitating to take a bite of the sushi that he was preparing to swallow hole, you’re sure. You close the door behind you and yank on the cord for the blinds, the soft zzzz as they close echoing your irritation.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” He asks, setting the piece of sushi down.

“Me? What the hell is wrong with you? I’m allergic to asparagus.”

“And?”

You all but throw the plastic container of sushi at him. His nostrils flare and the vein in his jaw ticks. Good. If he rises to the occasion, you can at least get through this fight without feeling guilt.

“This roll has asparagus - why would you get this for me?”

“I just ordered a roll I thought you would like, I don’t know!”

“You think I like allergic reactions?”

“No! I didn’t know what was in it?”

“Why wouldn’t you just order what I always get?”

He throws his hands up. “How would I know what you get? We haven’t eaten out together in almost four months.”

“Oh, so now because we don’t go on dates you’ve forgotten things you’ve known since we started dating over two years ago? Even Jimin remembered I was allergic to it!”

“Dude, can we not do this right-“

“I am not your ‘dude’ Taehyung,” you seethe. Spit flies out of your mouth with the force of the words. You feel the snaky feeling of your anger coil, ready to strike. “I don’t understand how you fuck up something so easy.”

“Lower your voice.” He drops his tone, deep and commanding. He sits forward, pressing his palms on his desk. His chest rises and falls as he starts getting worked up, eyes like thunder. “We are in an office.”

“Don’t speak to me like I’m a child.”

“Then don’t throw a fit like one. It is a fucking sushi roll, Y/N. You didn’t eat it. It’s not the end of the fucking world. I got it wrong – I am sorry – but to come in here screaming at me like this is insanity.”

Taehyung realizes the moment he says the word that he’s made it worse. You flinch back like you’ve been slapped. That word rings through you over and over again, ricocheting off each corner of your mind.

“Baby, that’s not what I meant.”

Insanity. Insanity. Insanity.

You’re being insane. You’ve lost your mind.

How many nights had you worried about doing exactly that? How many sessions with your therapist had you begged her to tell you if you were going insane? How does one measure insanity? Is it when you were often being irrationally or was it when you started experiencing delusions?

There were so many definitions and you were afraid of them all.

But most of all, you were afraid of becoming your father. You were afraid of succumbing to the type of insanity that people talked about when you lost the battle against your weakening mind and slipped into a delusion that ended in killing your wife and chasing your daughter into the dark basement of your home.

The type of insanity that was painted on news articles and stations and social media and everywhere you looked for the rest of your life.

Man Murders Wife He Believes Is A Demon.

A Daughter Survives Brutal Murder, Escaping to Basement for Two Days.

A Father and Husband Commits Murder-Suicide – Leaves Behind Only Daughter.

Suddenly, you no longer feel angry. You feel sick, the hunger clawing its greedy talons at your stomach is replaced with something insidious. Bile burns the back of your throat as blood rushes in your ears, that insult carving out a space in your head.

Never in your relationship has Taehyung used that word, you think. You can’t remember him using it when you first started dating – especially after he met your father, who was a gentle soul dealing with severe PTSD issues and a slipping mental, growing worse with time.

He’s never used it especially after The Incident.

Taehyung is still apologizing, face pale as he stands, hands held out in front of him like he’s trying to placate a child or a wounded dog. Perhaps you are no better than a wounded animal, caged and corner. Maybe you should be put up for adoption.

Or maybe you should be taken out back and given the same treatment as Old Yeller.

“Baby-“

“Fuck you.” It comes out with trembling force – you realize you’re shaking all over. “Fuck you, Taehyung. I cannot believe you just said that.”

“I didn’t mean it-“

“You did,” you snap, ripping the door open and leaving the boxed sushi on his desk. “You did mean it. And maybe you’re right. Maybe I am crazy. Just like my dad, right?”

Taehyung doesn’t have time to respond. You’re out of his office and into the hallway, leaving much faster than when you came. You don’t know if anyone is looking at you or how loud you were being. All that you know is that you’re crying and you’re not holding it together very well.

How professional.

When you get to the stairwell, you make it to your floor but you don’t re-enter the offices just yet. Instead, you sit on the stairs and let your head fall into your hands, tucking your knees under your elbows to support the weight of your crying.

You keep the sounds as soft as you can, but you can’t hold back the hot tears that run down your face. Your stomach is queasy, a mixture of adrenaline, anger, and something else that feels awful.

It’s difficult not to sink into the thoughts that this really is your fault. Your situation with Taehyung. Your inability to just process your grief like a normal human being and move on. You’ve read so many books on how to cope with grief and how to deal with a loss of a loved one, but none of them really help.

You need a book that is specifically detailed on My Dad Killed My Mother During A Mental Episode and Chased Me Into A Basement Where I Hid for Two Days.

Barnes and Noble didn’t have that volume. You checked.

Of course, there were people who wanted to write your story. Your answer was the same: what story? Your dad wasn’t a fucking science experiment or some case of insane people being criminals and murderers.

For as long as you can remember, your dad’s service in the military had left him a little off. Shortly after your fifth birthday, he retired with full honors. He took a job at a local library – he loved to read, like you – and that’s where he stayed.

Your mother was a true matriarch. Strong and proud and beautiful, with the mind of a whip and intelligence to boot. But she was so gentle, a kind soul who liked making muffins on Sunday mornings with freshly picked blueberries from the garden. Your dad liked to garden.

It’s difficult to remember exactly when he started to see and remember things incorrectly. Even in those first few years of your childhood, his nightmares woke you up in the middle of the night. You even remember hearing him in the kitchen once, drawing you out of your room to see what the noises were.

There was nothing like the terror of your father grabbing you at ten years old and pressing you close to him, whispering Shhh. They’re coming.

Nodding, you had obeyed, following his nightmare. He was sitting with his back against the cabinets next to the fridge, keeping his eyes on the front door. He opened an arm for you to slide against him and you did. He smelled like aftershave and your mom’s perfume, and his embrace was warm as he wrapped his arm around you.

You had stayed with him trembling and silently crying for two hours before your mother found the two of you. Your dad had already drifted back to sleep, leaning against the counter and you were tucked into his side, too afraid to move in case they saw you.

It had been a hard night for your mother. Seeing the fear in your eyes. You had been so afraid to let your dad go, telling your mom over and over that he said they were hiding in the kitchen.

On his worst days, that memory always bubbled up. Just a dad and his kid sitting in the kitchen, united in an unnamed terror.

The terror - they - could have been anything or anyone. It was different over the years. Sometimes he had nightmares or memories of something he had seen as special forces – the ones who went in to do terrible things silently and slither out.

Other times they were…. you weren’t really sure.

A strong imagination and a pension for fantasy novels were something you and your father shared in common. You remembered him reading The Hobbit to you as a child, and he absolutely loved reading Wheel of Time on the good days when the smell of blueberry muffins wafted from the kitchen, and you lay on the couch with the cat, Riyu.

Sometimes, you wonder if his love for books is what fueled the poison of his afflicted thoughts. He saw ogres and orcs, shadows that weren’t there, and could wake up from a nightmare, but still be trapped inside the demon's lair when he was conscious.

The door to the stairwell opening makes you flinch. You lift your tear-stained face to see the intruder. Yoongi quietly shuts the door behind him, not even letting it click. He presses his back against it, face impassive.

“Can I sit?” he asks after a few moments filled with you sniffing and straightening. You nod and he offers a soft smile. Your heart leaps a little. His smiles were so few and far between that, it’s always dazzling when he parses one out for you. “Want to talk about it?”

You shrug. “Same shit.”

“Same shit doesn’t make it easier. Even if it was new shit, doesn’t feel very good.”

“Poetic.”

“Hey, I just read the stuff, I don’t write it.”

You smile, despite yourself. You look down at your hands, wet with your own tears and smeared with a little bit of mascara that you have rubbed from your eyes. “I bet you think this is pathetic, huh?”

“No, I don’t. I don’t think that struggling is pathetic, regardless of the circumstance.”

“Really?”

“Really. Having relationship problems doesn’t make you pathetic, it makes you-“

“If you say it makes me human.”

“- human,” he laughs. You join him, your light laughter the melody to his bass. “Sorry, I know that was cliché. I’ve been editing a romance novel today, I can’t help it. I feel it’s just asking to turn my vocabulary into purple prose.”

“Ooo a romance novel. Tell me about it.”

He heaves a sigh, leaning back on his elbows as he looks up at the winding stairs. His hair falls back a little, silky smooth. It’s longer than it’s ever been, and you think it looks sort of nice. He’s not wearing his glasses today, which is a little disappointing. You love when he has on his square frames.

“It’s the usual. Girl meets boy, they fall in love. There is something keeping them apart – this time, it’s girl’s family thinks that the boy isn’t good enough for her because they’re rich and he’s poor. I’m at the part at the fight, but they will ultimately get back together.”

You whistle. “Remind me why you’re not in marketing?”

“Hey, I find the errors, I give suggestions. A reader does not a salesperson make.”

You smile, sniffing. You have to admit that you feel a little bit better. For the first time since you started crying, you’re not thinking of Taehyung’s careless words or the way that your rotting relationship continues to decay.

It’s like an ulcer that bleeds a little more, that eats a little more every time you fight.

“You hungry?” Yoongi asks you. “I actually had Kaiju delivered – I have an extra roll. Asparagus free – honestly, who even likes that stuff anyway?”

You look at him cryptically. “What kind?”

“Dragon Roll – it has crab, avocado, spicy mayo, and cream cheese, all deep fried.”

You think about it. Before you can answer, your stomach lets out a long, terrible growl, sending you both into light laughter. “That does happen to be my favorite from there. As long as I’m not going to make you go hungry for the rest of the day and you allow me to pay you.”

“I won’t go hungry the rest of the day, and you’re absolutely not paying me.”

“You cannot give me that for free – those are expensive, Yoongi.”

“Look, you’re having a rough day.” You give him a look but he gives you a look of his own – round eyes with a soft pout. You relent, if only because it’s a little cute to see him indignant. “You’re in the stairwell crying. I’m allowed to say you’re having a rough day. Just accept the offer and we can pretend you got it yourself.”

With a huff, you stick out your hand for him to shake. “You drive a hard bargain, but deal.”

Yoongi’s hand is warm when he takes yours. Your stomach flips again, the tips of his fingers rough and the grip of his hand firm. You never realized how much larger his hands are than yours, fingers long and elegant like a painter or musician.

Taehyung has hands like that as well – delicate and beautiful. He has artists’ hands, often spending his free time painting in the spare bedroom of his apartment or arranging frames of photos that he himself took. You’ve always admired Taehyung’s hands.

They are very different from Yoongi’s despite-

No. Comparing their hands is weird and inappropriate. You shake the thought from your head as Yoongi shakes your hand firmly. Once. Twice. He stands, hand still wrapped in yours as he hauls you to your feet.

Opening the door for you, Yoongi gives you a soft smile and encouraging nod. You shoot one back, thankful for him.

Sometimes, you wonder why Taehyung can’t be a little more like Yoongi. Thoughtful. Patient. Understanding.

Perhaps in another life.

/ SERIES PREVIEW / NEXT CHAPTER /

TAG LISTS ARE NOT AVAILABLE FOR THIS WORK DUE TO IT'S SENSITIVE NATURE. PLEASE DO NOT ASK TO BE TAGGED.

#haliiimede writes #bts smut #bangtan boys #bts fanfic #min yoongi fanfic #bts min yoongi #min yoongi smut #yoongi smut #bts yoongi #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x you #suga bts #suga fanfic #suga smut #halishappyagust #tw: yandere #yandere yoongi #tw: toxic relationships #tw: trauma

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lovelyladyabsinthewrites · 10 months

Text

From the Ashes Pt.11

Pairing(s): Pairing(s): Rhaegar Targaryen x Lannister!Reader, one-sided!Jaime Lannister x Lannister!Reader, Jaime Lannister x Cersei Lannister

Warnings: none, changing povs, Selmy POV

Words: 1779

Summary: Barristan Selmy finds the most unlikely companion.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 3.5 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30 Part 31 Part 32 Part 33 Part 34

Barristan Selmy had to be careful as he made his way to Starfall. He knew that he would have to evade Rhaegar’s army on the way since he had to pass through the Reach and Stormlands. Not wanting to get caught up in any fights, Barristan moved fast and hidden by shrubbery and woods. He would’ve liked to see Prince Rhaegar in all honesty. But Varys had made it clear that this mission was of the utmost importance and had to be done immediately. Varys informed Selmy that he would tell Aerys that the King’s Guard knight was scouting around Rhaegar’s camps in the south and would send information to them about the enemy.

There was still confliction inside of him though. Conflicted because something about this didn’t feel right. He left the Guard to send a missive and a mysterious box to Rhaegar’s supposedly dead bride. He wasn’t even allowed to tell Rhaegar that the sweet girl he had taken as his queen was still alive in Volantis.

Deciding to take a rest, Barristan pulls his horse over and dismounts; leading her off the main road and back into the covered woods where the terrain was a little more difficult to travel through. The horse gave an annoyed snort and appeared hesitant on entering. With gentle coaxing though, he was able to make her relax and follow. Barristan could hear a nearby stream, possibly a sublet of the Mander River. From the path he had been on previously, he knew he would ultimately hit Tumbleton if he kept following it. He wanted to stay unseen for the most part of his journey.

Finding a nice tree to sit underneath and let his horse graze, Barristan retrieves his map and scans it. Clicking his teeth here and there. There was still a long way to go before he even reached Dorne. Leaning his back against the sturdy trunk, Selmy closes his tired eyes. He had ridden all night to get to where he was, it didn’t seem like much. Already in his late 40’s, Selmy was starting to realize that he couldn’t travel the way he used to when he was younger. His age was starting to catch up on him.

Unconsciously, his hand bumps against his travel sack which Varys’ mystery box lay hidden. Opening his eyes, he glances at the burlap bag. It was out of pure curiosity that he wanted to fiddle with the box to see if he could open. Varys claimed that he hadn’t been able to find a way. What could be in there that would aid (y/n)? What aid did she need exactly and for what?

Guess I’ll figure out when I get to Volantis. Selmy thinks to himself before remembering the first part of his task. Make it to Dorne. To Ashara Dayne in Starfall. Starfall was the perfect place to set sail to Essos. From there, the Summer Sea would grant them a straight passage to Volantis. Granting if the waters would be kind to them.

Out of nowhere there’s the sound of a scuffle, of a fight. Instinct had Selmy jumping onto his feet and grabbing his sword as his ears strained to figure out which direction it came from.

“Stay away from me!” Came the warning yell of a childish voice.

A cruel laugh replies “What do you think you’re going to do to us with that little dagger, dwarf?”

The sound of a sword swing and a surprised yelp. Whoever was being attacked was definitely a child. An unfair fight. Being the man that he was, Barristan heads to the direction of the struggle to find two men harassing a very small, oddly shaped, child. Nothing but basic thugs. There were many of them scattered throughout deserted woods of Westeros, waiting for the right victim.

They heard him coming, but that was alright. That wouldn’t give them the upper hand.

When the child lifted his face though. . .

He knew that face.

It was Tyrion Lannister

“What in the Mother’s name are you doing so far away from home?” Not taking the older knight long to dispatch the other men, Barristan took Tyrion back to camp. “And did you really think you could stop them with that little dagger?”

Quiet since his rescue, Tyrion’s different colored eyes are stuck on the ground. “No. Of course not. But I wasn’t going to go down without fighting. It wasn’t the first time I ran into someone threatening me. That’s why I’m going through the forest instead of through official roads and cities. You run into fewer obstacles that way.”

“You still haven’t answered my question of why you’re out here. Surely your father doesn’t know where you are.”

His small face twisted. “He wouldn’t even care. That’s why it doesn’t matter where I’m going.” Green and black turned to Barristan. “Thank you for saving me. I’ll be on my way now.”

Like he could let this kid go off into the wild by himself. Barristan put himself in Tyrion’s path, craning his neck down so he could meet the young boy’s gaze. “You’re not going anywhere. You’re going back to Casterly Rock.”

That made the boy gawk in surprise. “How do you. . .”

“I’m a knight of the King’s Guard, boy. Barristan Selmy. You stayed at King’s Landing for your sister’s wedding.”

There was a bristle that ran around Tyrion’s frame. Unbridled and shaking as the dwarf now became apprehensive of the man in front of him. “I’m not going back to the Rock, ser.”

Crossing his arms, Selmy refused to budge. “A normal child can’t even make it in the wilderness.”

Equally resilient, Tyrion grounded his feet in place. “If you haven’t noticed ser, I made it this far all by myself. Do you know how many bloody mountains there were from Casterly Rock to here? A lot! Not to mention animals that are bigger than me. Yes, I know fully well I’m a dwarf and could be killed at any minute. But I know where I’m going and what I’m doing.” Sticking his hand into his small cloth bag, Tyrion pulled out a rolled up scroll then threw it at Selmy’s feet.

While keeping Tyrion in his line of sight, Barristan Selmy bends down to pick it up. Unrolling it revealed a rather detailed map of the region of the Reach to King’s Landing.

“You’re going to King’s Landing?”

He shakes his head. “No. I’m going to meet up with Rhaegar’s army.”

“What for?”

“To ask him his favorite flavor of pudding. What do you think for?”

This kid had to be crazy. “You’ll get yourself killed.”

The fact that that didn’t seem to phase the boy much bothered Selmy greatly. He sighs, not knowing what to do, and rubs the back of his neck. He couldn’t let this boy go with good conscience. That was out of the question. And if the kid did happen to make it to Rhaegar, what then? Rhaegar had no use for a child, let alone a dwarf. Tyrion was both. He knew that back at King’s Landing, Rhaegar had a soft spot for his brother-in-law. Grief and war does horrible things to a person, and if rumors and Ser Dayne’s letter were true. . . A child should definitely not be present during those violent acts of war.

“And though Rhaegar acts his usual self, during battle. . . He turns into someone entirely else. He fights with a furocity that he never had before. As if his goal was to kill every last enemy all by himself.” He remembers Ser Arthur Dayne’s written words. Selmy didn’t want to think of him in that state.

Really, what reason was there to return Tyrion back to Tywin Lannister. There were so many cons. The boy would be miserable back there and return to being known as the Lannister Dwarf.

It wouldn’t hurt for him to come along for a little bit. More important things to attend to first, Selmy would return the boy when he was done. Plus the boy could see his sister. “Look, you’re not going to Rhaegar and I’m going to return you to Casterly Rock. But not right away. Thing is I have an urgent parcel to deliver in Essos. Utmost urgent that I can’t waste another minute. I’m going to take you along with me and return you once the parcel has been delivered.”

Immediately the boy’s eyes gleamed. “Essos?”

“Yes, have you ever been?”

A small shake of the head.

“Well now you’ll have something interesting to say when you go back home.” Finally relaxing, Barristan returns to his spot under the tree.

“Where are we porting from?” Tyrion eagerly inquired as he sat down next to Selmy as he spread out his own map.

His finger traces a line from where they were at down south. Stopping at the Red Mountains, he explains “From here we’ll go through the Torentine River. All the way to Starfall. That is where we’re leaving port from. Someone I know there will give us a ship to sail through the Summer Sea to Volantis. It’s a very delicate mission. We can’t be detected and no one must know our actual identity. Safer so no one catches wind that a King’s Guard knight and a child that looks a lot like a certain Lannister Lord’s son.”

“What is it that we’re even delivering? And why are you doing it? Like you said, you’re in the King’s Guard. Isn’t there something better you should be doing with your time?”

Selmy laughs and shows Tyrion the box. “Don’t even ask me what’s inside it. I don’t even know myself.”

For a moment, his small hands struggle to hold it but eventually gets used to the weight and examines it. Nails run along the seam. Thumping at the bulky metal latch that had no keyhole. “Odd.”

“It’s owner must know the inner mechanisms that unlock it.” Shrugging, Selmy puts away his map and starts packing his horse. “I was just told that it was incredibly important.”

The boy fantasized what could possibly be the important item inside. It wasn’t big enough to hold a sword, nor an axe or any other weapon that could be used in battle. Maybe there was a secret tome in there? Full of the incantations of magic.

“Be forewarned, this won’t be a two-day vacation. This could possibly be a month or two.”

“I don’t care. Not like I have anything to do at home anyway.”

Whatever it was, Tyrion held onto it tightly as he and Selmy got on his horse and rode off.

------

Taglist:

@boywivlove

@esposadomd

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withoutyouimsaskia · 2 years

Text

Remember Me, Special Dreams

Part VII.

GIF: Originally posted by @imironstark

Summary: Self-insert. You're having trouble with recurring night terrors and Morpheus pays you a visit. (Title from the lyrics of Placebo’s Special Needs)

Warnings: language, angst, mentions of night terrors.

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: Hello there, hope you have had a nice weekend. Three chapters in one week! It might be the only thing that is keeping me sane with work and trying to sort out my new house. Long live creative refuges. Would love to hear what you think. Have a great day, Saskia

Sandman Masterlist

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

The hands wrapped round your throat constrict so much that you are truly convinced that you are going to die.

You are thrashing silently; there is no air left to scream with.

Then, you begin to feel the unmistakable oblivion of dissociation.

Your body doesn't feel like it belongs to you. It is a dead weight while your brain is in free fall.

Shadows rush up around you and you wonder if this is this is your last moment on Earth.

The choke hold disappears.

You remain catatonic. Breaths are coming so fast yet provide so little oxygen. The deficiency scrambles your mind.

You can barely remember where you are.

You can't even use your sense of sight to confirm your location. Your eyes burn and blur with tears making it impossible to see.

You desperately try to recall what happened.

His face flashes in your prefrontal cortex.

Morpheus.

He had put you into a nightmare. One that had transformed into three, all running into one another. Keeping you trapped. You remember the themes; persecution, home invasion, drowning. Then the encounter with your ex.

And how they followed you from the lake side to literally trying to murder you in your bed.

Or at least that was how it had felt at the time until you somehow managed to break out of the parasomnia episode.

Safe in the knowledge that none of it had been real, your body and mind re-synchronise.

Your name is being called.

You open your eyes. Morpheus is sat on the mattress next to you like he had the previous night. He gazes down at you. He seems pleased with himself.

“I know what is happening to you now.”

His tone gives evidence to your prior observation.

You flinch away from him, backing away to the vacant side of the bed.

Mystification sits in his eyes. “I thought you would be pleased.”

“Pleased? After what you just put me through?”

His lack of regret riles you further.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? I feel like a fucking science experiment.” You point an angry index finger at him. “Actually, no. I feel like a torture victim.”

"I recognise that my methods could be construed as extreme however it did get the result that we wanted.”

“Well, next time, find another way to prove it instead of forcing someone through all that.”

You sit, chest still heaving from the adrenaline and anger.

He goes to say something but you cut him off in your rage.

“No. I’m not listening to anything else you have to say until I have a drink.”

You push yourself off the bed and grab an oversized jumper before storming from the room.

***

A steady stream of water vapour rises from the earthenware mug that you hold in your hands.

Morpheus stands as far away from you as he can in your small kitchen, a little pout on his face.

You haven’t stopped glaring at him since he followed you downstairs.

“When you said about having a drink, this was not what I had imagined.”

“I’m an adult who lives in the UK, Morpheus. This is what we do when things go to shit.”

You take a long gulp of the last of the decaffeinated tea and set the mug down.

"Right, lay it on me. What have you managed to ascertain?”

His expression is stern.

“The things that you have been seeing in the past week, they are not as a result of your lucidity, nor are they hallucinations. You have the ability to create temporary holes in the Dreaming and pull entities through.”

A flutter of alarm elevates your pulse.

“That sounds... serious.”

“It will be if the breaches become permanent. To be able to weaken the walls between the Dreaming and the Waking World, it poses great danger to both realms and their inhabitants.”

You’re gripping the edge of the worktop with both hands, dread filling you up from head to toe.

“They were right, I am a plague,” you speak quietly to yourself, remembering the words that your ex had spoken in the nightmare.

Morpheus is suddenly right beside you.

“You are not a plague, Y/N.”

You close your eyes in an attempt to hide your tears.

“But you just told me that I’m dangerous.”

He says your name in a gentle timbre but with a commanding undercurrent that forces you to look right at him.

He adopts a comforting tone.

“We will figure this out. Together. You have my word.”

The kindness in his deep blue eyes is so concentrated that you want to pull him into an embrace.

You instead opt for something less physical.

“Thank you,” you whisper as your tears overflow.

His hand twitches as if to reach out and take one of your own. He doesn’t quite make contact; you feel the ghost of a touch but nothing more.

Morpheus stays close to you as you cry and once your well starts to run dry, he takes a risk and asks a question.

“Who was the person at the end of the nightmare?”

Your face contorts.

“Someone I hurt recently.”

“Are they the reason behind the anxiety you mentioned?”

“Yes.”

“May I ask what happened?”

You keep your eyes downcast as you recount the tale.

“They wanted to fast track things; buy a house, get married, start a family all within the next year. I started to feel pressured, trapped. I wasn’t ready for that level of commitment so I ended things.”

You take a deep breath in through your nose. “I feel so guilty.”

“You shouldn’t. Going along with it would have only caused more pain further down the line. There is nothing wrong with realising that your paths were diverging and acting on it.”

“I broke their heart.”

“Time mends all things.”

You look directly at him then. The sincerity in his voice makes you wonder if he is speaking from experience.

For a moment, his eyes glisten with something that looks like tears.

And then he is speaking again and the quality melts away.

“I believe that we should discuss your sleeping arrangements.”

“Um, okay.”

“I wish for you to return to the Dreaming-”

You interrupt him, shaking your head vigorously. “Nope. Definitely not. I don’t ever want to sleep again. It would be irresponsible of me. And even if I wanted to, I couldn’t because I don’t even feel tired right now.”

Your body betrays you and soon you are stifling a yawn with your hand.

“Shit.”

Morpheus smirks.

“I admire your caution but you did not allow me to finish: I would like you to be my companion for the remainder of the night.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

"You will be safe with me.”

“And what about the safety of your realm?”

“That is precisely why I want you by my side. Based on what I just witnessed, I would feel uneasy leaving you unattended. With me, I can protect you and step in should there be an incident.”

You are frowning.

He says your name. “Trust me.”

His coaxing works like a treat.

“Fine. But if anything happens, I’m blaming you.”

He smiles.

“You underestimate my power, Y/N.”

He takes a step towards the kitchen door way. “I will change that soon enough.”

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

"A woman is a changeling. Always shifting shape. Just when you think you have it figured out. Something new begins to take."

Taglist: @pinkcyclewitch @layla2-49 @shoidy-cat @silverhart93 @boofy1998 @dotieeee

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imhereformr · 6 months

Note

For the prompt thing. Comparing hand sizes - Brella <3

AUTHORS NOTE: This story is set in an alternative season 1 where Brandon and Sky didn't switch places.

Despite her sometimes less-than-stellar relationship with her mother, Stella loved the Day of the Rose. She loved the festivities and traditions. She loved the crowds overflowing with joy and love. Most of all, she loved the markets and vendors that filled the streets of downtown Magix. This year, she particularly loved the company she had.

A series of instances – that is, Riven storming off after Bloom rightfully dropped a bucket of water on his pig-headed ass, then Bloom going off to try to find him to apologise and Sky going off after Bloom so that she wasn’t left alone with Riven and his temper – left her and Brandon alone. Figuring that either Sky or Bloom would call one of them when they’d found Riven, she and Brandon decided to wander the market stalls.

Brandon immediately started pointing out things he thought she’d be interested in. And, oh did he have a great eye. He pointed out beautiful scarves, iconic jackets, sparkly rings and stunning dresses. She ooh-ed and ah-ed at the beautiful items, but all she really wanted was to spend as much time as possible with him.

Stella followed behind as he led the way through the crowd, wondering how she could make it obvious that she was basically in love with him. Her mother had always said that men should do the chasing, but besides some very overt flirting, Brandon wasn’t doing much chasing. Not that he needed to, Stella was wrapped around his finger and basically desperate for his attention. She knew it, her friends knew it, but she refused to let him know it. He would be lucky to get her and that was all he needed to know.

But then again, she knew she’d be lucky to have him too. Brandon wasn’t only drop dead gorgeous, he was kind, optimistic, loyal, intelligent. And yeah, fucking gorgeous. Rich dark eyes, a jaw chiseled by the world’s greatest artists, silky brown hair, broad shoulders, arms that made her swoon, and height. Such height. Stella was tall and she loved heels, her man needed to be taller than her. She liked having to reach up when they hugged.

If ever they would hug. No matter how much flirting they did, the physical was severely lacking. He’d kissed her cheek a month ago and ever since, she’d wanted nothing but to be close to him. She would “accidentally” brush her arm against his when they walked, but everything else seemed too desperate unless it was done with exaggerated flirtatiousness which cheapened the thrill of touching him.

“I think that stand is selling jewelry made with awxinite” Brandon pointed out, drawing Stella’s attention away from the silk dress she was looking over.

“What’s that?”

“It’s a gemstone” Brandon replied, leading her over to the stand. “My grandmother had a necklace made of it. It’s a silverish colour in daylight, but it glitters in the dark.”

“You mean it glows in the dark?”

“No, it glitters. Yeah, see, they’ve got a box so you can see the glittering.”

Stella peered into the show box, gasping in awe as she watched this otherwise unassuming stone sparkle like it had been hit by direct sunlight. “That’s beautiful.”

“Would you like to try one on, ma’am?” the vendor asked, pulling out a small tray of beautifully crafted rings. Stella picked out a ring and the vendor, having impressively guessed that her ring size was a 6, handed it over. She slid it on her finger, admiring it, then cupping it to watch how it shimmered in the dark.

“And for you, sir” the man said, pulling out a selection of mens rings. “An 11?”

“I have no idea” Brandon replied, admitting that he’d never measured his ring size.

The man pulled out a ring and instructed Brandon to try it on. It fit a bit tight, so the man pulled out the next size. “A 12, then.”

“Wow, I never realised your hands were so big” Stella commented, watching as Brandon’s calloused fingers slipped on the ring.

“Are they?” Brandon held up his hand, turning it over to inspect it.

“A bit yeah” Stella laughed as she held up her hand to Brandon. She grabbed his wrist, holding his hand up to hers. He pressed the palm of his hand against hers. The bottoms of their palms lined up, but Brandon’s hands were significantly larger. He could even fold the tips of his fingers to cover hers without disaligning the bottoms of their palms.

“Maybe you’ve got really small hands.”

“Oh no” the vendor piped in. “Your girlfriend has perfectly average hands for a woman.”

“Oh, I’m not -”

“She does have perfect hands” Brandon agreed with a laugh. Stella knew she had turned tomato red – not a flattering colour on her – but she laughed anyways. Brandon’s smile was just so infectious that she couldn’t help it.

She braved a glance at him and turned a brighter red when she realised he was smiling at her. Not one of those silly smiles he had when he joked around, either. Brandon smiled at her with the softest, sincerest smile she’d ever seen on him. She returned the smile as she tried not to melt at the way he looked at her – like she was the most beautiful sight (but how could she be when he was?).

“So then?” the salesman asked, ruining Stella’s favourite moment of the school year so far.

Brandon pulled his hand away from hers and started to remove the ring. “Not for me, thanks.”

“I’ll take mine” Stella smiled.

Later that night, she turned the ring over in her hands, remembering the way Brandon’s hand felt in hers and wishing she could feel him again. When she started to feel sleepy, she put the ring back in its box and placed it in a charmed jewelry box with the Ring of Solaria. Gods knew it was just as, if not more, precious than the family ring.

#fucking 2 days in a row #look at me go #again unedited #so sorry if there are any mistakes #winx club #winx #winx stella #winx brandon #set in season 1 #prompt #writing prompt #fanfiction

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majonohouseki · 7 months

Text

A Bionicle Question About Matoro

Hey to anyone out there... do you think it was Matoro's soul that saved Mata Nui when he sacrificed himself to save him?

Because when Kopeke asked Hahli if Matoro was truly dead, she said this: “He is. But his life force brought Mata Nui back from the endless dark. So you could say that Matoro is a part of everything now – the sky, the waters, the sunlight, and every living thing that walks or flies or swims or crawls. Matoro is dead… but never truly gone… not as long as the Great Spirit Mata Nui exists.”

I've been wondering what that meant ever since I first read that part of the story. At first I thought it meant his soul was now a part of everything. After asking a few fans, one of them said it was up to interpretation, because not everyone believes souls exist, that some people believe life-force and souls are the same thing, but others believe they're completely different, that life-force is a presence/energy that gives life while souls continue to exist after death. They didn't believe in souls in the religious sense, so he thought Matoro's presence, energy was a part of everything.

The idea of Matoro's soul being everywhere made me feel better, because he may have been dead... but he was still truly there. The idea of his energy being everywhere... I don't even want to think about it, because he was never truly there, it's not really him, just the energy that radiated from him.

It was so horrible, soul-destroying, seeing what happened to Matoro. And the idea of Matoro not really being there... made me feel so much worse.

And lately I've discovered more and more evidence that it's not up to interpretation, and that he was turned into life-force rather than soul, both in the story, and in a few of the chats Greg Farshtey would answer questions to.

So if anyone has anything to say to object that, please do.

Here's some of the things I discovered in the Q@A chat logs with Mr. Farshtey. The red texts are the questions; the orange texts are the answers.

This one's an excerpt from the offical Greg diologue on February 1 2008. Toa Nidhiki05's Question: 1a. "Could the Ignika in theory bring several masks to life, than create bodies for them and have his own 'Toa' team?" 1b."If not, why?" Greg's Answer: 1) "No. While it is possible for the Ignika to bring things like rays of light to life, it cannot give something a mind. The Hau, for example, has no mind. So if you bring it to life, all you have is something that hungers, but it isn't going to think or go out and fight for right. It will be like a zombie, just driven by primal instinct"

These are all excerpts from the official Greg discussion. First one's from January 7 2006. Khote's Question: 12)"If the Nuva (Or another Toa team) succeed on finding the Mask of Life, it would just help to keep Mata Nui alive, but it wouldn't awaken him, right?" Greg's Answer: 12) "Right"

Second one's from March Second 2006. The Captain's Question: 6. "Can the MoLi actually take life away from a organism? Or can you not tell us yet?" Greg's Answer: "ANSWER: Yes, it can"

Third one's from June 9 2006. Code Name: Raven's Question: 1.) "Zaktan mentions that every 5000 years or so the MoLi is donned by a Toa, who is then incinerated from the energies released. Is this sacrifice needed to keep the universe from going crazy?" and 3.) "Is that what the Toa of Magnetism's team was doing?" Greg's Answer: 1) "Yes, although Zaktan is also buying into legends. The Mask does not get worn anywhere near that often, but as with most things, exaggeration sets in." and 3) "Yes"

Fourth one's from July 26 2006. Toa Lhikan Hordika's Question: 1) "Are the following actual powers of the Ignika: Future sight, hovering (more of an ability than a power), fusion, enlargement of other beings." Greg's Answer: 1) "Yes, along with other powers related to life, such as accelerating plant growth, healing, and who knows what else I will come up with. Think big picture -- eliminating the idea of resurrecting the dead (which it can't do), what else could the power of Life do?"

Fifth one's from October 16 2006. Little Zivon's Question: 3) "Could the Mask of Life help Makuta to get a physical body again?" Greg's Answer: 3) "Not directly, no. The mask can evolve existing things and give life to inanimate objects, but it cannot create life whole or create life with no spirit. Makuta needs a living or mechanical body with no spirit already in it."

Sixth one is from October 26 2006. Toa Haomin's Question: 8."Will we discover the mask of life's original purpose?" Greg's Answer: 8) "I can tell you that now -- the mask exists to regenerate the life energies of Mata Nui. That is its only purpose."

Seventh one is from October 28 2006. ToM Dracone's Question: 8. "The Mask of Life cannot bring inanimate objects to life, correct?" and 9. "If the above is the case, then I have a hypothesis as to why the Mask can't bring the dead back to life: firstly, after, say, a Matoran dies, his spirit lingers for a little, and then it disappears. Even if the Mask could give life to inanimate objects, it still couldn't call back the Matoran's spirit, and so without the spirit, the Matoran can't be revived. Is this right?" Greg's Answer: 8) "Yes, it can. What it cannot do is bring the dead back to life." and 9) "Exactly. And if your spirit is not there, you aren't back to life, you are just parts moving."

Eighth one is from March 1 2007. Kraahlix's Question: 3. "Can the Mask of Life take away life as Zaktan stated? "And with power over life also comes the power over death" or something..." Greg's Answer: "A. Yes"

I had found all these with the source of Ignika - The Great Archives

And here are more that I discovered regarding life-force and soul in the Bionicle world.

This first excerpt is from the official Greg dialogues. First one's from March 20 2008. Makuta Desaima's Question: 6- "What sort of things can the Toa Ignika do with its powers? Sap life, mutate beings, kill them, empower them etc?" and 7- "Is it possible for the Toa Ignika to bring any inanimate object to life? Can it reanimate dead beings?" Greg's Answer: 6) "And evolve them, and devolve them" and 7) "It cannot reanimate the dead, no. It can bring life to objects providing those objects have some organic molecules in them."

I found this with the source of https://biosector01.com/wiki/Ignika

And lastly, from the sources of https://biosector01.com/wiki/Life are these excerpts from the official Greg dialogue and official Greg discussion. The Shadow Makuta's Question: 6) "What is Toa Ignika's Nuva Blast effect?" Greg's Answer: 6) "Pretty much the same as what you would get if you shattered the Mask of Life -- everything -- EVERYTHING, rays of light, rocks, equipment, armor -- would come to life."

And from Takuta Nui: Q: "In MoL, all we saw of Takutanuva's powers was a revival of Jaller's life. I'm sure that was just a fraction of his full capability. Do you have a list of his powers, or at least an idea of the full extent of his strength?" and "Wait, so if part of Makuta's life-force was used to revive Jaller, then does that mean it was " poured " into him, or just " used ", then returned to Makuta's life-force?" "If those are the powers he has, then can he combine them into new powers, or all of them into one land-shaking blast?" Greg's Answer: A: "Actually, that was not so much a power as it was using part of Makuta's life force to bring him back. Takutanuva had all of Makuta's powers, including the 42 Rahkshi powers, and all of Takanuva's powers." and 1) "You can't give life force to someone and then have it flow back into you. If it did, the person you gave it to would drop dead."... 2) "He can't combine them into new powers, no. It's possible he could use more than one power at once, however."

These were all the quotes that stood out to me, that made it seem that Matoro not only wasn't turned into soul, but that whatever he was turned to isn't up to interpretation at all.

...ALSO THIS ToaOfPlastic on X: "The original backstory legend, (from the matoran's perspective of course) with more papu and rangi info. https://t.co/URw0LxnoNA" / X (twitter.com) It comes from a story bible from 2002. I think it's supposed to be a concept for the actual stories that would come.

If he really was life force and not soul... that would also mean that not only Matoro was turned into life-force, but that when Makuta died with the Great Spirit Robot, then as all the energies of the now dysfunctional robot would escape into the ether, including Matoro, meaning now he is truly gone.

I really do want to believe that Matoro's soul saved Mata Nui, that it's his soul that's everywhere now, and a part of him, but after discovering all of this... I don't want to give up hope or accept that he isn't but... I think Matoro is completely fucked.

#bionicle #matoro #soul #life force #questions

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writingforfun0714 · 1 year

Text

Hi everyone, I recently had a birthday so I haven’t had the time to post.

I wanna post my first Arcane multi-chapter fic.

This is an Arcane reader insert (female child reader) and is basically the youngest sister to Powder and Vi. I want this to be multi-chapter and follow the episodes of the show.

Warnings—spoilers for Arcane, Reader Insert—Female Child Reader, AU (I think), parental death, POV changes, Long? (6,170 words), follows episode 1 (from Reader POV)

*I USE ‘Y/N’ FOR READER THROUGHOUT*

Sisters of Mine

Chapter 1

3rd POV

War. Destruction. Death. That was what awaited 3 young girls. The oldest has short, shaggy pink hair and pale blue eyes. Her parents called her Vi. She can’t be older than 12. The younger girl, who is about 6 years old has the same shaggy, wild hair the older girl does, but hers is bright blue. Her name is Powder. She has dark, deep blue eyes. The older girl with pink hair is holding a baby girl. She is their baby sister, Y/N, who is only about 6 months old.

The eldest has her sister with blue hair cover her eyes and sing as they walk through the rubble on the Bridge. Their parents had told them to stay until they returned, only, they never did. The fighting ceased and when the adults never came back, Vi decided to go out to look for them. Her younger sister, Powder, wanted to come as well, which meant she also had to take Y/N. Can’t leave a baby by themselves. They need protection and care. That’s what the girls’ parents told them. They are both super protective of their baby sister.

They stop and Powder peeks through her fingers to look up at Vi, who appears stunned and shocked. Powder turns to see rubble and bodies. She gasps quietly. The only sound is Y/N’s whimpering and fire crackling.

That’s when Vi hears a loud but dull thunk of metal connecting with something. Vi turns and in the smoke, she sees a silhouette of a large, muscular man. The smoke dissipates and Vi is able to see that the large man is killing an Enforcer, hitting him hard with metal gauntlets, crushing the Enforcer’s skull. He hears Y/N’s cries and turns to see the 3 young girls standing, staring at him. He approaches them and Powder steps into Vi’s side as the eldest takes a protective step forward, keeping a firm grip on their baby sister. The man’s look is sad and Vi looks at him as if to ask for help, taking a step towards the man—to ask where their parents are. You see, Vi and Powder vaguely know this man. They know his name is Vander and that he’s a friend of their parents.

The man, Vander, glances over to the left sadly and Vi follows his gaze. That’s when her eyes spot 2 bodies. The woman…she’s covered in blood and her eyes are open. The same dark blue eyes Powder has. Vi can’t see the man, but she knows who it is. They are the bodies of their parents. Vi’s eyes water and she takes a couple of shaky breaths before collapsing to her knees, crying, holding onto Y/N. Powder wraps her small arms around the 2 of them as Vi cries. Y/N starts crying as well because they are crying. Vander approaches the girls and lets his cast iron gauntlets drop, cracking the ground upon impact. He gently picks up Powder and Y/N in one arm and Vi in the other. Y/N cries as Powder tries calming her. Vi peers over Vander’s shoulder, her arms are wrapped around his muscular neck. She glares at an Enforcer as they release a bullet casing before walking back into the smoke and dust of the failed rebellion. Vi’s grip on Vander tightens in anger slightly as he walks the girls back down to the Lanes.

Time Lapse—4yrs

About 4 years have passed since Vi, Powder and Y/N lost their parents and Vander, the owner of the Last Drop, took them in. Vander also took in 2 boys, Claggor and Mylo who also lost their parents that day on the Bridge. They are around Vi’s age.

Vi has grown into a stubborn, tough 16yr old girl dead set on punching her way through any problem. Powder is a shy, passive 10 year old girl but incredibly smart. She often hangs out with Little Man since they are close in age. Little Man, also known as Ekko, was adopted by Vander’s friend, Benzo. He owns a pawnshop just down the street from the Vander’s bar. Y/N is now a sweet, smart but scrawny 4 year old kid who loves learning from Powder and Ekko. Because of her age, Y/N is often left at the bar if Vi and the others leave and she’d usually go find Ekko. He’s Powder’s best friend, but he’s also like an older brother to Y/N. He often shows her what to pick out from the junkyards. Mylo and Claggor often ignore Y/N, since she’s so young, so she really prefers Ekko for a brother anyways. Especially since Mylo doesn’t particularly like her.

Vi, Powder, Mylo and Claggor had gotten a tip from Ekko about a place topside to check out. Someone came into Benzo’s pawn shop who looked ‘weird’ according to Ekko. He had enough money to be charged double, so Vi decided to follow the lead. Originally it was just Vi, Mylo and Claggor, but Powder wanted to tag along as well, much to Y/N’s disappointment. She loved Ekko and Vander and even ‘Uncle Benzo’, but she really missed having Powder around. Y/N can’t keep up with the others and she has nothing she’s really good at. Mylo would tease her, saying that at least Powder’s a great shot. Mylo always says Y/N often slows down the older siblings and he feels like Y/N a burden, something Powder can relate to, which is why they get along so well.

Vi told Powder she could come along, since she would know what valuable stuff to take and the 2 older sisters had to tell Y/N to stay behind. It wasn’t until the older kids left that Y/N decided to go find Ekko.

Reader’s POV

I wave sadly at Powder and Vi as they head out the door. Vander, my dad, is busy running the bar and I don’t wanna be alone. I glance at the clock. Ekko would probably be at the junkyard right about now. I slip on my worn hand-me-downs I got from Powder and hurry up the steps.

I shut the door behind me and hurry up the last short set of stairs that leads into the main bar area. The music from the jukebox is drowned out by the few people scattered about. I spot my dad behind the counter. Vi, Powder and even the boys call him Vander, though I don’t know why. Vi said he’s not our real father, but the large muscular man with shaggy graying brown hair with a matching beard and mustache is all I can picture when thinking of the word ‘dad’.

He’s busy with someone at the bar, filling the cup and talking. I won’t be gone too long. I head back down the stairs and to the left is the door that leads outside to the side alley. I push the heavy door a few times for it to open enough and I groan slightly as I push it back shut.

I look around before heading off towards the junkyards. It’s not far since the bar is almost at the center of the Lanes.

I see the hills of rusted scrap metal that’s mostly beyond repair. A few adults scavenge here as well but most pay no mind to me. I walk through the trails made through the junk and that’s when I hear a familiar voice. A groan, actually. I hurry around a piece of rusted out metal and see Ekko sifting through a pile!

“Little Man!” I exclaim. His head snaps up and a wide smile spreads across his face when he spots me.

“Y/N!” He exclaims back and braces himself as I launch myself at him, colliding with his thighs and stomach, wrapping my arms around him and squeezing tight.

We laugh as we part.

“What’re you doing here? I thought Pow-pow was gonna show you her surprise-“ Ekko tells me. My eyes widen in excitement.

“Surprise?!” I ask and he nods.

“She was so proud of it and wanted to show you-“ he explains and my face falls slightly.

“N-No, she didn’t tell me. She left with Vi and the boys,” I explain to him. Now his face changes into a look of concern.

“She did?” He asks and I nod.

“Vi said she was ready and let her go with them. They told me to stay at the bar,” I tell him, “so I decided to come find you.” Ekko smirks, chuckling slightly.

“Did Vi say where they were going?” Ekko asks and I nod.

“To that place you told them about. With that weirdo guy you were talking about,” I explain and Ekko nods, knowing which I mean. Not noticing how concerned Ekko seems, I look through the oil-stained rusty metal and find what appears to be a tool! I gasp and pick it up.

“What is it?” Ekko asks.

“Look what I found-“ I say, holding up the screwdriver.

“Hey look at that! Your first find! And a tool no less! That means it’s time for you to start tinkering,” Ekko tells me and I smile happily.

“C’mon, let’s go to my hideout-I can show you what I found too,” he tells me, patting his pockets. I nod in agreement.

“Ok,” I say and follow Ekko back to Uncle Benzo’s, holding his hand and chatting along the way.

We get back to the pawnshop and Ekko holds the door open for me, making the bell on top jingle.

“There you are Ekko—oh-Y/N-I got a donation from this morning, thought you’d like to have it-“ Uncle Benzo says, searching a drawer. I walk up to the counter and watch the large man pull out a small box. He opens it and my eyes widen when I see they’re colors! 4 whole colors! Yellow, green, purple and orange! They look used, but the tips are still pretty pointy and long. Not used for long. Ekko smiles.

“Make sure to wash up before tracking all that grease upstairs-“ he tells Ekko, who nods.

“Yep-c’mon Y/N-“ Ekko tells me. I take the box of colors.

“Thanks Uncle Benzo-“ I tell him. He chuckles.

“Sure thing kid,” he says as I follow Ekko upstairs. We wash up in the small bathroom and I follow Ekko out his bedroom window and up the fire escape ladder that leads to the roof.

Ekko sits and empties his pockets.

“Woah! You found a square plug! Powder’s been looking for one of those-“ I say and he nods.

“Yeah I remember. I had found a few earlier but they were all either too rusted or stripped,” Ekko says.

“Stripped?” I ask. He nods.

“See all these grooves on this part?” He asks, pointing to the part that goes into whatever needs the plug. I reach and feel it. It’s small, but bumpy and I nod.

“If a screw or something is stripped, it doesn’t have that and won’t be able to fit into place,” Ekko explains. I nod, understanding. I watch Ekko tinker with the parts he’s salvaged along with a few parts scattered about the rooftop hideout.

He’s trying to fix his stopwatch. It got broken during a game between him and Powder. I remember watching the 2 in the alley. Ekko had dodged the 1st 3 shots before getting hit with pink paint on the 4th shot, with Powder exclaiming victory and laughing. Ekko, in frustration had thrown the stopwatch down and it broke.

“There, I think I got it-“ he says, closing it up. He clicks the button and I hear a soft, but audible ticking noise. I smile and see the red pointer ticking.

“You fixed it!” I exclaim happily. He nods.

“Wanna go to the basement?” Ekko asks, referring to our hangout/sleeping area in the basement of the Last Drop. I nod and we head down the ladder and hop down onto the garbage bins before jumping down to the ground and walking across and down the street.

We get to the bar and I have us enter through the side alley door. Ekko gets the heavy door for me and closes it behind us. I hurry down the steps and open the basement door. I flick the light switch and hurry down the rest of the stairs before hopping onto the couch. We continue talking, mostly about the others.

After about two and a half hours pass, Ekko decides to head back home. I’m laying in the lower bunk Powder and I share, listening to music. That’s when the door suddenly opens and I gasp. I look and see my older siblings trudge down the stairs. Mylo, Claggor and Powder take the couches while Vi takes the armchair.

“You’re back!” I exclaim happily, running up to Powder and Vi. I hug both of them before getting a good look at them. Powder appears to be ok, but the others are covered in blood and bruises and they’re all a bit dirty and smell a bit.

“Yeah, we’re back,” Mylo scoffs.

“What happened to you?” I ask.

“Vander learns none of this,” Vi instructs, ignoring my question.

“No worries there—Powder took care of the evidence,” Mylo complains.

“I tried ok!? I-It’s not fair! You’re older! You’re bigger! It isn’t fair!” Powder exclaims back at him.

“So stick with us! Take a punch or two!” Mylo exclaims. I grab the rubber ball we play with and throw it hard at Mylo, hitting his shoulder.

“Ow! Hey you little-!” Mylo exclaims, rubbing his shoulder before the sound of the door opening shuts him up.

“Everyone alright?” Dad asks, walking down the stairs.

“Never better…good,” the boys mumble. Vi refuses to look at him. Something’s definitely wrong.

“I don’t suppose you can explain why it is that I’m hearing about an explosion and a foot chase topside?” Dad asks. My eyes widen and I look at Powder, tugging on her arm. She gives me a look meaning that she’ll tell me later and I nod.

“Four children fleeing the scene. What the hell were you thinking?” Dad asks Vi.

“That we could handle a real job-“ Vi says, looking at him.

“A real job?” He asks.

“We got our own tip, planned a route, nobody even saw-“ Vi tries to explain.

“You blew up a building,” Dad argues.

“Did you even stop to think about what could have happened to you? Eh? To them?!” He asks angrily. Vi glances away, covering her mouth with her hand.

The large man sighs and rubs his forehead with his hand in frustration.

“Where did you even get this tip?” He asks. At first no one answers. He looks to Powder and she would’ve said something had Mylo not been glaring at her. Dad glances to me and his look softens a bit, but he’s still pretty serious.

“Y/N?” He asks, knowing how easily I crack.

“It was from Uncle Benzo’s,” I say and the boys sigh.

“From?” He asks. Powder gives me a nudge and shakes her head slightly.

“Little Man,” I reveal and even though I feel bad about telling, I’m glad he knows. Dad sighs, and Vi immediately stands up.

“I brought us there so be mad at me, but you’re the one who always says we have to earn our place in this world-“ Vi argues.

“I also told you time and time again the north side’s off limits!” Dad argues.

“Why!? They’ve got plenty while we’re down here scraping together coins! When did you get so comfortable living in someone else’s shadow?” Vi asks and a tense silence falls over the room. I cling to Powder, afraid of what’s going to happen.

“Everyone out,” Dad orders in a calm seriousness that is almost unsettling. The boys stand first before Powder does as well but I don’t move. Dad looks at me and I see how serious he looks.

“Powder,” he says and that’s when Powder picks me up and carries me out with her. I don’t protest. His look…he’s never looked like that…at least towards me before.

Claggor shuts the door behind us.

“He was really mad,” I whimper about the bar owner turned father.

“Why did you tell Vander?!” Mylo snaps and I flinch, tucking my face into Powder’s neck, my grip around her tightening slightly.

“Back off Mylo-“ Powder defends me, glaring at the older boy before walking away.

We walk outside to the side alley.

“A building blew up?” I ask as she sets me down. I lean against the side of the building and slide down to sit. Powder nods and takes a seat next to me.

“Yeah, it was an accident,” she tells me.

“What happened?” I ask.

“I..I don’t really know. We had to hurry out-“ Powder tells me.

“Well at least you made it back,” I tell her.

“Yeah, barely,” she replies with a scoff.

“Why are you sad?” I ask, noticing the tears on her cheeks. She looks at me and wipes her eyes before looking away.

“I’m fine,” she lies. I pout.

“Mylo?” I ask and when she doesn’t respond, I know that means yes. I instantly wrap my arms around my older sister and squeeze.

“Why is Mylo so mean?” I ask. While Mylo would usually be mean to Powder, he hasn’t exactly been the nicest brother to me either. He always says I’m a burden and because I’m a baby, I shouldn’t hang around them. So I understand how Powder feels.

“I…I don’t know,” Powder admits, hugging me back.

3rd POV

The two girls stay sitting, hugging, for a moment. Everything that happened plays through Powder’s mind. Sure she had trouble hopping on the rooftops, but Vi had caught her. Though she didn’t miss Mylo’s eye-roll and head shake of disapproval. Then, once inside, it looked like nothing Powder had ever seen. So many books and objects, but she did recognize something, the Valdiani music box. She took that along with-

Powder gasps suddenly and her eyes widen. Y/N pulls back, slightly confused.

“What?” The younger girl asks.

“I forgot-“ Powder tells her baby sister. She reaches into the pouch she has attached to her belt and pulls out the 5 blue crystals she took. She shows them to Y/N, who awes in fascination at the glowing blue stones.

“Woah…pretty,” Y/N awes quietly. Powder smiles and nods.

“What are they?” Y/N asks curiously, reaching to pick one out of Powder’s hand to get a closer look. Y/N picks up one glowing stone and stares at it.

“I dunno-“ Powder tells Y/N.

“C’mon, let’s go show Vi-“ Y/N tells Powder, who nods in agreement.

The two girls hurry inside with Powder pulling the heavy wooden and metal door open for the both of them and shutting it as they get inside. Y/N follows Powder down the stairs as they get to the almost shut door to the basement.

“Ugh-she’s the problem,” Mylo hears. Before Y/N can open the door, Powder stops her and motions for her baby sister to be quiet. Y/N nods understanding and they peek through the crack to eavesdrop. Powder, Y/N and Ekko eavesdrop all the time so it’s not uncommon.

“Mylo I’m really not-“ Vi tries telling the wild haired boy as he tosses the rubber ball on the wall, making a thunking sound.

“Do you remember what was in that bag? The biggest payout we’ve ever seen and she just lost it!” Mylo argues.

“She made a mistake,” Vi argues.

“Name one time she hasn’t,” Mylo argues back, referring to Powder, throwing the ball roughly. Y/N notices Powder flinch sadly. She reaches out and grabs Powder’s hand and squeezes lightly.

“She’s young-“ Vi continues to argue with the boy.

“Don’t bullshit me, you were twice the person at Y/N’s age. Besides, Powder can take care of the runt while we’re out,” Mylo says, calling Y/N a runt. The little girl balls her fists angrily.

“You know what Mylo? You’re right. There’s a bunch of things Powder just can’t do and Y/N’s too young,” Vi says about both her sisters.

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Mylo mutters. The two younger girls share a look before Y/N reaches up, wanting to be held. Powder picks up her younger sister and hurries out. Of course Vi hadn’t meant it the way it sounded.

However, the younger girls leave before hearing Vi’s defense.

“Like complain about everything,” Vi snaps.

“What?” Mylo asks, throwing the ball again.

“And brag nonstop,” Vi adds, sitting, leaning forward with her elbows on her thighs.

“Ok-ok I see where this is going-“ Mylo laughs, throwing the ball.

“Picking fights with the group when we need to focus?” Vi asks, catching the ball to get his attention.

“Vi I-“ Mylo chuckles.

“Or tell strangers on the street we got a nice haul?!” Vi asks interrupting the boy, throwing the ball hard at Mylo to make him understand the seriousness of his actions.

“I-I didn’t mean-“ Mylo stutters as Vi towers over him on the couch.

“The girls are my problem because they’re my sisters. Your problem is never knowing when to shut up but I’m going to help you with that,” Vi says, “see this look on my face?! This will always mean it’s time to shut up!” Vi snaps at the boy.

“But-I-!” He tries, but Vi points at her face and he sighs.

Reader POV

Powder takes me with her and that’s when I ask her.

“Am I a burden?” I ask.

“W-What?” Powder replies, more stunned than anything.

“To us…our family…to you…am I a burden?” I ask, on the verge of tears. Powder stops and sets me down. I see her own eyes shine with unshed tears.

“No-never. It’s…my fault. I’m a jinx,” Powder says, and I recognize the insult as one of Mylo’s and frown as tears slip down Powder’s cheeks.

“No! Mylo’s a liar! He’s a liar!” I start to yell, not caring that I’m crying as well. I feel a hand on my back and look up to see Powder looking at me with a kind smile, though I still notice the tears in her eyes.

“Thank you…for defending me,” Powder tells me before pulling me into a hug. The sudden switch causes my anger to die down. I immediately wrap my arms around my older sister.

“Always,” I reply.

Powder suggests going to see Ekko and I happily agree. We’re in his hideout right now, talking, though I’m mostly listening.

“Why don’t you show Y/N your surprise,” Ekko suggests and I start to hop up and down excitedly.

“Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Show me! Show me!” I exclaim. Powder looks away nervously.

“N-No-no-I…it..doesn’t work-“ Powder stutters slightly. I frown in confusion. Ekko frowns as well, but his is out of concern.

“What’re you talking about? We tested it two days a-“

“Yeah well it doesn’t work now ok? I…I used it…earlier today,” Powder admits and Ekko gives her an empathetic look.

“I don’t understand-what?” I ask, not knowing what Powder’s talking about.

“It’s ok..I’ve had stuff not work too. But you can still show Y/N, right?” Ekko asks.

“Yeah pleeeeeaaaase?!” I beg, tugging on Powder’s blue shirt. She made it herself and will also fix my clothes if they rip. She chuckles.

“Ok-ok-“ she says and pulls out something from her leather pouch. I look and see it looks metallic but my eyes immediately go to the bright colors on it. It looks like a-

“Mouse,” I say, pointing. She chuckles and nods.

“Good eye. This is Mouser,” she tells me but I watch her expression fall into sadness.

“She didn’t work,” she says as if remembering something.

“But she will, we can work together,” Ekko says, glancing at me with a smile. I smile back and nod eagerly.

“Yeah! I wanna help! I wanna help! Pow-pow please?!” I beg. She looks at me and nods after only a moment.

“Sure, I could use all the help I can get-“ she says and I cheer happily.

“Yaaaaay!! I’ll help!! I’ll help!” I exclaim before Powder and Ekko grab Ekko’s toolbox. She sets Mouser down and unscrews the head.

“Can I see?” I ask and she nods. She teaches me about how she built it and how it’s supposed to work.

“Does she go boom?!” I ask excitedly and Powder nods.

“Let’s see what the problem is,” Ekko says, spinning a wrench in his hand. I watch my older siblings get to work and I make sure to pay attention.

After about an hour or so, Powder realizes we should go home.

“But we’re not done!” I argue.

“We can always finish tomorrow,” Ekko says and Powder nods.

“Vander basically grounded us anyways,” Powder adds. I sigh, pouting.

“C’mon, I’ll show you my latest idea,” Powder bribes. I light up and nod.

“Ok,” I agree and turn to Ekko and leap at him. I wrap my scrawny small arms around his hips and squeeze tightly.

“Bye Little Man,” I say, using his nickname. He chuckles lightly and ruffles my hair with one hand and hugs me with the other.

“See ya tomorrow Lil Sis,” he says as I pull back. I watch as he and Powder hug tightly before parting. Powder grabs my hand and waves goodbye to Ekko as we walk home. I wave too as the boy waves back at us.

We get back to the bar just as Dad and Claggor head out.

“Girls, it’s time to stay home,” Dad tells us and we nod as he and Claggor walk down to Uncle Benzo’s.

“Huh, I wonder what’s going on,” Powder says out loud but when I try to follow, she grabs hold of my collar and makes sure I go inside.

We walk in and I hurry down to the basement. I open the door slowly at first to take a peek, but when I look around, I see it’s empty.

“C’mon, no one’s here,” I tell her and walk inside.

Powder turns on the music/record player as I grab the colors I got earlier from Uncle Benzo and find a piece of paper in the wooden box Powder lets me keep some of my stuff in.

“What is that?” Powder asks me.

“It’s some colors Uncle Benzo got. He gave them to me and I wanna add ‘em to the ones we got,” I explain.

“Ooh can I draw with you?” Powder asks and I nod eagerly.

“Yeah!” I exclaim happily. Powder moves over on our bed and motions for me to sit next to her. I grab my stuff and move over to my sister. She grabs one of the new colors I got. I’m confused at first until she grabs one of her inventions.

“What’s that?” I ask, curious.

“This one is Whisker. She goes with Mouser,” Powder explains, drawing on the metal container.

We keep coloring until the basement door opens again. I look up and see Vi walk down the stairs. She approaches our bunk and leans on the top, looking down at us.

“What’re you calling this one?” Vi asks, knowing Powder names her inventions.

“Whisker,” Powder says as she outlines the mouth.

“Here, move over kiddo,” Vi tells me and I shift to the side so Vi can sit down.

“You wanna talk about today?” Vi asks her.

“What’s the point? I ruin everything. I always do,” Powder says, sitting up with her legs pulled up so her knees meet her chin.

“Nobody said that-“ Vi tries telling her.

“No, just that you were ‘twice the person at Y/N’s age’,” Powder says, repeating what we had overheard earlier between Mylo and Vi.

“You heard them,” Powder tells Vi sadly as she clicks Whisker’s head into place, “I’m not a fighter,” she says.

“You don’t have to be,” Vi says as Powder frustratedly presses Whisker against her forehead. Vi glances up where Powder hangs all her bombs that she makes.

“Look, I’ve got these, and you’ve got those,” Vi says making a fist before lightly touching the metallic canisters.

“They never work-“ Powder argues.

“They will,” Vi says and I nod.

“You help teach me stuff-I need you-“ I say, emphasizing that I need her, and Powder gives me a half-hearted smile. Vi smiles at me and ruffles my hair.

“She’s right,” Vi tells Powder before Vi’s eyes light up a bit.

“Come with me,” Vi says. Without waiting, I immediately jump out of bed and start following.

“What?” Powder asks.

“C’mon,” Vi insists as I tug on Powder’s arm. She pats my hand and shuts off the string lights in our bunk before we head outside, up on the roof.

I cling to Powder’s arm as we follow Vi out the door and to the edge of the room. She sits and motions for us to do the same. Powder sits on Vi’s left and, wanting to sit next to both of them, I wriggle in between them, making my older sisters chuckle and Vi ruffles my hair.

“What’re we doing out here?” Powder asks. Vi looks and spots a rusted out pipe stuck in the chain link leaned up against some old boxes.

“Here, see that sign?” Vi asks, handing Powder the pipe. Vi points and Powder follows Vi’s finger.

“Mylo drew that middle finger and he tripped over that red paint bucket and nearly fell off. His ass made that splotch,” Vi says. I cup my hands around my eyes to get a better look and spot the paint. Powder laughs.

“And there-“ Vi points to the right and down. We follow and see a small gap in the ground with wooden planks as a walkway.

“Claggor tripped there running from Enforcers and got his foot stuck. He was there all night before we found him,” Vi explains. I see some guy peeing, but I think about the story Vi told. It’s not close to the bar so Claggor must’ve been scared…I would be if I was alone.

“And that,” Vi says, pointing to the power lines that connect to the bar. Powder lowers the pipe and looks. They string to different buildings and disappear in the dim light. But I spot something tangled in the lines. It’s…it’s a toy! Powder sees it too.

“When I was a kid, some guy took my favorite toy and threw it up there,” Vi explains.

“I’d come outside hoping the wind or a bird might knock it down,” Vi says with a sad look on her face.

“We’ve all had bad days. But we learn, and we stick together,” Vi says, wrapping her arm around us and pulling both me and Powder into her. We smile at Vi. That’s when I remember what Powder had shown me earlier.

“Pow-pow-“ I say, tugging lightly on her shirt, “the light rocks-“ I remind her and she gasps.

“Oh! I forgot!” She exclaims.

“What’s a light rock?” Vi asks curiously. Powder takes out 3 of the glowing blue stones from earlier and shows Vi.

“These were in my pocket. They’re from the apartment,” Powder explains to Vi.

“What are they?” Vi asks, staring at the small glowing stone in Powder’s hand.

“We dunno,” Powder says, glancing at me.

“Maybe we can get lots of money for them!” I suggest.

“You mean they’re valuable?” Powder asks and I nod.

“Should we show Vander?” Powder asks Vi.

“No-“ Vi immediately answers. Powder and I exchange a worried look before turning to Vi.

“Let’s keep this our little secret,” Vi says looking at both of us. Powder nods and Vi looks down at me.

“Y/N?” She asks and I look to Powder, who nods encouragingly.

“I won’t tell,” I assure my oldest sister.

“Mylo’s wrong Powder. You’re stronger than you think. And Y/N, you may be young, but you’re smart. Pow-pow and Little Man taught you well,” Vi compliments, winking at Powder, who absorbs Vi’s affection. Powder told me once that she wished she could be more like Vi to protect me so I know she wants to be like Vi.

“One day, this city’s gonna respect us,” Vi says confidently, standing up to look at the sprawling city. I lean against Powder’s side and think about Mylo…what he said…and I think about how Vi doesn’t feel that way. The light breeze feels nice and I enjoy the time with my sisters.

Meanwhile…

3rd POV

Deckard makes his way through the streets until he’s suddenly ambushed. He blacks out and wakes up when he’s thrown into a chair. He groans as the chair skids back a bit from the force. His breathing quickens as a large pale man sneers at him. The muscular man presses a pipe against Deckard’s neck.

“Gah!” Deckard gasp and starts squirming.

“You were supposed to follow them and not interfere,” a smooth, slightly raspy male voice says followed by a small sound of metal clicking. Deckard struggles against the metal choking him.

“I’m sorry! They split up and caught us by surprise!” Deckard gasps.

“Now his accomplice is asking questions about you,” the man replies. Deckard looks and in the dim lighting, he can make out a thin man with slicked back dark hair. His clothes look nice but Deckard can’t make out the details. The man is holding some sort of metallic device. Deckard watches as the man tilts his head back and uses the metal device to pierce his eye! Deckard’s eyes widen in shock.

“That’s not a risk I’m willing to take,” the man says and the huge muscular man pressing the pipe to Deckard’s neck suddenly presses harder.

“Agh-“ the young man gasps.

“The kids! It was their fault! The explosion! In the upper city!” Deckard pleads, and that gets the mystery man’s attention.

“That was them?” He asks.

“Yeah. The topsiders are up in arms looking for ‘em,” Deckard explains.

“Vander’s in trouble,” the mysterious man says, referring to the Last Drop’s owner. The man turns to look Deckard face on and Deckard chuckles nervously when he sees the mystery man’s left eye is glowing in the darkness.

“Smartest thing you ever said, boy,” the man says, standing. The man practically saunters over.

“Get him a meal,” the mystery man tells the other two that presumably work for him. The muscular man lets go of Deckard’s throat, tossing the metal pipe down with a clanging sound and the young man gasps for air.

“Keep him off the streets,” the man instructs as the two men practically drag Deckard away.

The mystery man walks up to the glass wall that looks out at the vast ocean that’s home to many of the sea creatures and monsters the man enjoys watching.

“Our timeline has moved up,” the mystery man says, at first appearing to talk to himself, until a quiet scientist makes his presence known behind the thin man.

“It’s almost ready,” the scientist says, looking at a vile of glowing purple liquid.

“Show me,” the man says. The scientist motions for him to follow to a small enclosed space that contains a mouse.

“Feeding time,” the scientist says, picking up a hairless cat looking inside the area. The cat meows as he’s placed inside. The scientist locks it closed before the man turns to him.

“And the side effects?” The man asks. The scientist mixes in the glowing liquid with the mouse’s water supply.

“Stabilizing,” the scientist replies, tapping the glass to get the mouse’s attention. It squeaks before going over to the slightly purple water. It drinks some of the water while the cat stalks up to it curiously.

The mouse suddenly squeaks as if in pain and backs away from the water, twitching. That’s when purple veins start appearing all over the mouse and it grows in size by about 3 times, gaining unnatural muscle. And it’s regular, black eye is now a glowing purple. It’s squeaks are now a mash of snarls and noises of pain. The monster mouse turns on the cat, causing the cat to freeze. The mouse leaps at the cat and the feline lets out a dying meow as the rat instantly kills the animal.

The glass cracks and blood splatters, causing the 2 men to make faces of slight disgust.

“Do you have a subject in mind?” The scientist asks.

“Someone just volunteered,” the mysterious man says, referring to Deckard.

End.

Chapter 2