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heliads · 10 months

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like a heartbeat, drives you mad

From the moment you first dream of Neverland, you know that it's a home unlike any other. Waking up is terrible every time, but what if you were able to find a way to stay there forever?

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You are always alone when the thoughts catch up to you. When you’re with other people, it’s different, easier to convince your mind to race to better, safer topics. You don’t have to think about the fears or the worries, you just have to keep up with the conversation or do your best to not seem like the person you’re terrified you truly are. Everything hinges on the one other person there, distracting you from the relentless parade of thoughts, keeping you firmly in reality.

When you’re alone, though, you can’t hide anymore. You wave goodbye to your friends to head inside, and with your hand on the knob, you think, did they really want to see me? And, was that laughter genuine, or were they faking it the whole time? Worse, was it at me?

Things get worse once it gets dark. You lie awake at night thinking that you’ll fail at everything, that no one will want to associate with you after that, that everyone on this earth is going to live and die and no one will ever remember you again. You don’t like thinking along such dark lines, but the self-hatred is strong and won’t let you go. You’ve tried before, shaking it off, but it always comes creeping back when you want it the least.

Life is not the best, but at least the fall of dusk upon the streets and surroundings of your hometown brings you the blessing of finally being able to go to bed. You can push off schoolwork until the next day, chores until forever, just so long as you can shut off your mind and crawl under your covers and everything will go away.

Tonight is one of those nights when you want it most of all. It’s been a long day, followed by a long week, chased by an even longer month. You can only tell yourself that it’ll get better soon for so long before even that familiar lie loses its charm. It’ll be good to rest tonight, though. Maybe tomorrow will make you happier. You close your eyes and try to sleep, all but begging unconsciousness to fall over you and carry you away. Your waking life is horrid enough. In sleep, at least, you will be alone, but–

In your dream, there is a boy. He was not there before. He is, in fact, nobody you have ever seen before. This should not be a problem. Dreams are rarely perfectly photographic, but this boy is, indeed, perfect. He’s absolutely in focus, blurred by none of that dreamlike haze that most figures cling to in your subconscious. It’s like a memory, but it’s never happened. It’s like reality, but you are still definitely asleep.

You stare at him for longer than is perhaps polite, but he does not go away. You can feel this dream in a way that should not be possible– the carpet under your feet, the cool of the air conditioning. You’re in your room, standing by the door. He’s perched on a chair, eyeing you with interest, and as bizarre as this dream is, you cannot shake the absolute certainty that this is his fault.

The only thing to be left, then, is to get some answers. You work up the confidence to speak, and your voice sounds exactly as it should, not distorted by dreams or anything. “Who are you?”

The boy chuckles. “A friend of yours. Hopefully, that is. I’d like to get to know you.”

Having gone a record number of years of your life without any hyperrealistic boys disrupting your dreaming schedule, especially ones who specifically wanted to meet you of all people, this only adds to your confusion. “Why?”

The boy shrugs liberally. “I’ve been encountering fewer and fewer dreamers around. Yours are the most vibrant. I was curious.”

You fight the odd urge to laugh. “A lot of people dream. Maybe you’re just bad at looking.”

This is, of course, the most rational thing you can do, immediately pick a fight with some guy currently terrorizing your brainwaves. Luckily, he doesn’t seem offended by your need to argue, and he just grins. “See, you’re right, but most dreams are nothing more than surface level. Yours are deeper, richer, stronger. In all honesty, that’s the sort of thing that makes me more powerful, so I wanted to see what it was about.”

You scoff. “Sure thing, magic boy, you, like, eat dreams or something. Weird of you, but okay.”

He smiles again. He shouldn’t, but he does. “You don’t believe me? I can show you.”

He stands, holds out a hand to you. You’re certain this guy’s nothing more than a figment of your imagination, but still. You hesitate. “I don’t even know your name.”

“Peter,” he says, “but magic boy works too.”

It makes you laugh. Shouldn’t, but it does. Just enough to shake loose your hesitations– what could happen here, after all, in the confines of your own dreams? You take his hand and something sparks behind his eyes. Pride, maybe. Or justification of some sort. Either way, you get the feeling that he’s just proven himself right.

Peter walks over to your window, throwing it open abruptly and climbing out onto the ledge. “You have to trust me,” he tells you, “or this isn’t going to work very well.”

You want to argue with him that you have absolutely no reason to trust him at all, but for some reason you’re already crawling out the window before you can get the words out. Your body trusts him, even as your mind doubts it. Strange, but nothing about this makes sense, anyway.

Peter straightens up slowly, bringing you with him. “Are you ready?”

“For what?” You ask, concerned.

His eyes dance with mischief. “For this,” he calls out, and he pulls you from the ledge.

There is a terrible moment of falling, when the only sure thing is his hand still wrapped around yours. You are plummeting towards the ground with dreadful speed, but then you’re not, and you’re leveling out again, the two of you pulled through the air as if by some invisible string.

The wind whips through Peter’s hair as the two of you soar through the air. “How is it?” He shouts over to you.

You laugh delightedly. “Fantastic.” It’s almost a pity it isn’t real. The fact that it feels so true but isn’t is almost more heartbreaking as if nothing had felt like reality in the slightest.

Before you know it, you and Peter are well beyond the reaches of your town, or even your country. Dark waters skim by underneath you, the waves of some foreign sea. Thousands of stars twinkle above you, Peter points out a few, shouts, second star to the right and straight on ‘til morning, that’ll get us there. You frown at him, call back, where? And he laughs, delighted in the thought of all that you have soon to experience, and screams, Neverland! at the top of his lungs.

It sounds like a joyous place. It is, from the moment you step foot on its pearlescent beaches, and later still, when you’re striding through the lush forests towards a campsite. It’s all a blur from that moment onwards, a swirl of new faces running towards you and laughing at your jokes, the clash of swords without a trace of fear, promises that you’ll love this even better, or that, or everything.

It is paradise. You do a hundred things and never tire. The Lost Boys who meet you, take you by storm, and obviously enjoy the company of a newcomer. Throughout all of it, Peter watches, tucked into the shadow of a tree trunk, arms folded across his chest with that satisfied smile on his face again. He does not approach until earlier into the morning, once dawn starts bleeding out beneath the blushing fingers of the rising sun.

“We have to go back,” he tells you at last, slipping out from his hideaway to step carefully to your side, “Or, you do, at least.”

The memory that none of this is real comes crashing down upon you, and you can feel the ecstasy of this whole night leaving you in a flash. “Right,” you say, “This is just a dream. Forgot about that.”

The thought that you’ll have to wake up and go to school and exist again as a normal person without any of this wonder that you’d just experienced makes you feel sick and saddened. Peter shakes his head, eyes soft. “You don’t necessarily have to wake up, but you should. You can come back soon, though.”

You laugh bitterly. “Of course I can, dream boy. I’m going to forget all of this by morning.”

He frowns. “Do you want to?”

“No,” you insist, “but I don’t think I have a choice.”

“You do,” Peter tells you, “You always have a choice. Always.”

With that, he takes your hand, and pulls just so. You stumble forward, caught off balance, and when you look up again, you’re in your room. Same four walls, same ceiling, same everything. You know somehow that this is the dream no longer, even without mysterious boys or wonderful islands in front of you.

A dreadful sigh leaves your lungs, carrying only heartbreak and misery. What a pity, to have such a magnificent dream and then have to leave it. Knowing that none of it was real is perhaps one of the worst agonies you have ever encountered in your life.

Or– was it not real after all? There’s something clenched in your hand, and you raise it slowly, uncurling the fingers one by one. What falls neatly onto your lap is a stone, polished to perfection by centuries of tides. It’s like no stone you’ve ever seen around here, shiny in a way that nothing natural is. It’s dark and lovely and– and it’s exactly like the ones on the shores of Neverland when you first touched down. There was no way you could have gotten it anywhere but there. That means that you were there after all, and that it’s real, it’s all real.

You go throughout the day in a haze, barely able to focus long enough to remember where you’re supposed to be going. None of it matters, though, not even the snide comments of your teachers or the questioning looks from your peers. Nothing matters, because the second the day ends and night creeps back around you, you know it’s time.

You have a brief moment of terror just before you fall asleep when you wonder if you can get back after all, that perhaps that was just a one time thing. No, you decide firmly, I want it. I’m going.

And, when you open your eyes to that same slightly uncanny feeling of the dream before, you know it, you can get back. Peter isn’t here this time, but that doesn’t stop you from racing to your window and throwing open the sash. You leap out into the air again blindly, reaching for the stars even before your feet leave the threshold. You won’t get hurt, none of this is real. All of this is real, that’s why you can fly into the air again, caught by an unseen hand. Second star to the right. Straight on until morning. You know the way. You couldn’t forget it if you tried.

The beaches of Neverland are empty, but you charge forward anyway, nearly tripping over tree roots and loose plants as you hurry through the forest. You can just see the lights of the camp, and then, yes, you’re into the clearing, and you’re greeted by shouts of glee and joy. Peter’s waiting for you at last, slowly clapping with the rest of the boys.

“You made it,” he says, evidently proud, “We wanted to see if you could.”

“Of course I can,” you tell him, laughing, “I made that choice.”

“That you did,” Peter says, and the celebrations begin.

It is quite possibly the best time of your entire life. You repeat this process day after day, slogging through your daylight hours with the end goal of being able to fall asleep and go back to Neverland, back to your Lost Boys, back to Peter. Nothing matters but the island. They all get along with you better than any friend you’ve ever made on the mainland.

The journey takes a shorter and shorter time, gone in the blink of an eye, and half the time you just wake up on the shores anyway, so familiar is the destination to you. You learn archery, throw knives, spar with the boys, shriek and shout and spin around the campfire. It’s fantastic, all of it, but that only makes the morning even worse in your opinion.

For, no matter how excellent of a night you had on Neverland, you always have to go back. Always. Peter takes your hand and he gives you that same look, that expression of regret and acceptance, and promises to see you later, to see you soon. Then you’re back in your house, and every time, the storm of homesickness and grief at no longer being on your island pulls you under.

It makes you think, though. On your first night on Neverland, Peter had said something strange about how you didn’t necessarily have to wake up. Perhaps it fits in with what he’s been telling you about how everything is just a choice. Maybe he’s been waiting for you to want that choice, the one to live here forever. It’s one you’d make in a heartbeat if you could only do it.

Curious, though, you start looking around at the other Lost Boys. They had to have gotten here somehow, right? One night you see one of them arrive, ferried over by a strange shadowy thing that looks far more terrifying than the whirlwind flight you’d had with Peter.

You ask one of the Lost Boys about it that night, interested to know why you were brought by Peter and this newcomer wasn’t. Apparently, though, you were the anomaly, not this boy.

“Usually Pan makes his shadow bring newcomers over,” the boy tells you matter-of-factly, “but I guess he wanted to impress you or something.”

You frown. “Why?”

The boy lifts a shoulder, evidently unbothered by the whole affair. “You’re the last of the dreamers, I guess he wants to keep you around or something.”

It’s an unhelpful answer, all things considered, and basically just what Peter had told you in your dream bedroom that first night. Still, the story is consistent, at least, and it makes you even more certain that Peter wants you to stay. You’re one of the dreamers, right? Why wouldn’t he want you to stay here forever, at least to keep his magic strong if not for the obvious friendship the two of you have had since the very first time you met?

You resolve to bring it up to Peter the next night. You’ve barely been on Neverland for an hour or two before you pull Peter aside and tell him what’s been on your mind for the longest time.

The breath out of your lungs is shaky, but you’re determined to get this right. “I want to stay in Neverland,” you tell him. “Forever, I mean. Not waking up. I want you to bring me here in real life. You always say that we have to make choices, and this is mine. I choose Neverland.”

Peter nods slowly, and you’re almost getting up your hopes that he’ll be accepting when he starts to speak. “That certainly would be an important choice. I would have to choose to bring you, though.”

You incline your head once. “Yeah, that’s why I’m asking you now. I mean, we’re friends, right? You and me, and the rest of the Lost Boys get along with me, too. I belong here, you know that. You brought me here in the first place, at least let me stay.”

He’s not saying anything. Why isn’t he saying anything? After too many minutes, Peter sighs, raking a hand through his hair. “Dreaming is one thing. Actually living here is something else entirely.”

“I know,” you say, starting to get impatient, “I’ve thought about this a lot, trust me, but I feel more alive on your island than I have in the real world. This is my home, Peter. You made it my home.”

Peter stares at you, the ground, his hands, and back to you. “No,” he says at last.

It feels as if you have fallen off of a tall cliff, condemned to tumble down forever in endless emptiness. “What? Why wouldn’t you– you’ve let me come here every night for months, but actually being on this island for good is too much for you? Peter, was any of this actually real to you? Was I just here as a temporary thing while you tried to harness the power of a dreamer or something?”

Peter shakes his head quickly. “No, no. It wasn’t about that. You’re as good as one of my Lost Boys–”

You cut him off, feeling the horror build in your chest with every passing second. “But never actually one of them, right? I can hang around during my nights but I will never be one of them, because you don’t really want me here. If you did, you would have brought me like all the others.”

You want to scream and cry, perhaps both. You’ve trusted him and, hell, even loved him, more than anyone else. Peter was the one thing in between you and complete melancholy. He’s turned your whole life around, given you reason after reason to keep going, but he does not want you around for good. Maybe he doesn’t even want you around at all.

He’s trying to say something, come up with some excuse that’ll somehow exempt him from your heartbreak, but anger is quickly outweighing sadness in your mind and you won’t let him. “No,” you say shakily, “If you never intended to keep me, I won’t waste our time. Why have me here at all?”

Peter’s eyes widen. “Wait, please–”

You never hear the end of his sentence. You’ve woken yourself up from this glorious dream enough to be able to do it all by yourself, and you do it now. When you open your eyes, it’s still dark outside, several hours from morning, but it’s over now, it’s all over.

You know that with certainty. You’ll never be going back. If Peter does not want you, and it is suddenly crystal clear that he does not, or he would have already taken you to Neverland and never fought it, then you will not trouble him with your presence any longer. This is what he wants, even if it destroys you.

It’s funny, realizing how much being on Neverland transformed your life. Your waking hours suddenly seem longer, the days filled with more dread and dullness than they ever had before. You had been miserable before you dreamed of Peter and the Lost Boys, and now that misery is back in full force. You compel yourself to forget him, to forget everything that had happened on that island, but picking up the pieces is a far harder task than you had ever anticipated.

Days pass. Weeks. Months. At first, you have to force yourself to wake up from that dream again and again, catching yourself with the image of second stars to the right even as you promised yourself that you would never think of it again, but it gets easier as time goes by. That hurts more than it should, but you have no other choice. Peter does not put himself in your dreams again. You do not show up to Neverland. Everything is exactly as it was before, but worse, because now you have those memories of a time that was far better than this one.

You’re walking home from school one day when you’re reminded of Neverland again. It’s a strong memory, forcing itself to the front of your mind. Green trees, the leaves waving overhead. The breeze whipping at your face. You can’t imagine why you’d be thinking of it again, and then you turn a corner and he’s there in front of you.

Peter.

It’s impossible. You’re not dreaming, so he shouldn’t be here unless– unless he actually came here. You stand stock-still, hardly daring to breathe, and Peter looks back at you, just as shaken even though he’s the one who came all this way.

“I miss you,” he says slowly, unsteadily. You’ve never seen Peter hesitant, or ever show any sign of a lapse in his typical cocky confidence. Not until now, that is. Truly, he has no idea how you will treat him now that you’ve already left once before and gotten away with it.

“I know,” you tell him, “I know.”

Peter tilts his head to the side, trying to get a read on you. “Did you miss me?”

You take a step to the side, looking at the nearby scenery, anything but him. “Yes. Parts of it. I missed running with the Lost Boys under the trees. I missed the bonfires and the dancing. And yes, I think I missed you. But I hated feeling like you didn’t want me there, and for a while, that was enough to make me think I didn’t miss you.”

Peter’s eyes are wide, twin emeralds twinkling in the quiet air. “And what about now that I’m here? Can you miss me now?”

“I can,” you decide at last. You do. You have, and seeing him again has ripped open a fresh wound you swore had already healed. Blood is oozing around your fingers, but for some reason being with him still takes away the pain of such a grievous blow.

Peter holds out a hand to you. He’s trembling slightly, far less sure of himself than he’d been in a dream of your bedroom many months ago. Still. He wants you even now.

“Come back with me,” he says, “Back to Neverland. We all need you. I need you. You don’t have to leave if you don’t want to. It was always your home, I didn’t realize it before. It could be your home again.”

You look at him. It’s been a long time. You’ve grown up in the time since you last stepped foot on the island, but strangely enough, you think he has too. That’s why you’re able to take his hand at last, and trust that he will not let you down again. He needs you, just like he said. As it turns out, you need him too.

Peter’s smile is radiant. “Shall we go back, then?”

You allow yourself to smile back at last. “I think we will.”

ouat tag list: @lovesanimals0000, @eclliipsed, @w1shes43, @lost-ender

#peter pan #peter pan imagines #peter pan x reader #peter pan oneshot #ouat #ouat imagines #ouat x reader #ouat oneshot #once upon a time #once upon a time imagines #once upon a time x reader #once upon a time oneshot #ouat peter pan #ouat peter pan imagines #ouat peter pan x reader #ouat peter pan oneshot

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wandering-winchesters · 1 year

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Crossroads II

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Trigger Warning: Mentions of death & alcohol Word Count: 1,590 Summary: Part 2 of Crossroads, the two years is up and the hellhounds have come to collect on the deal.

A/N: Thank you for reading, please like and comment your thoughts!

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I never knew how quickly two years could pass. Tomorrow marks the last day I have on this earth, 729 days have passed since I made the deal to save Deans life. I wouldn’t change it, I wouldn’t take it back. These last two years have been the best years of my life. Dean and I have never been closer, we spent as much time together as we could. I could count on one hand how many times we had been apart during these two years.

The hunts we had been on together some of my fondest memories, the places we’d traveled. Every hunt, we took a day to ourselves to go explore the area we were in. It was special, peaceful and just a perfect time with him.

Today, surprisingly I’m at peace. I’ve embraced the fact that my time on this earth is coming to an end, but Dean will continue to live on and one day, we’ll meet again. I plan to fight like hell to get back to him. However if I can’t, it’ll be alright. He’ll be alright, Sammy’s got him. Dean had dozed off, his arms wrapped tightly around my middle. His head leaning against my own, our backs pressed to the couch. He had safeguarded the room, sprinkling goofer dust around every corner and entrance to the motel room we were in. I had insisted on leaving the bunker, not wanting to draw any evil there. I had tried to go alone, but Dean wasn’t having it.

I had accepted my fate, a long time ago. Dean, on the other hand, not so much. He begged, borrowed, bartered and still, we were at a loss. The deal I had made inescapable. I look at the clock, ten minutes to midnight. I had ten minutes left with the man that I love. I knew he still planned to fight, planned to try his hardest to keep me here. Yet I wasn’t going to let him, I pressed a kiss to his lips, soft enough I wasn’t going to wake him up.

“I love you De.” I slipped his arms from around me and stood. Tucking the note into his flannel that I had written earlier before turning and walking silently towards the door to the motel, I opened it and slipped outside.

The cool night air was refreshing, crisp and fresh. I inhaled it, smiling softly at the stars above. It’s as if I was seeing the world for the first time, through fresh eyes. I sat on a bench, outside the room. My eyes focused on the stars in the sky, the sounds of the crickets, silently reflecting on the two years before. The love that I experienced, the joy and the sorrow. Mingling together. I smiled, it was all worth it. It will always be worth it, to know that I kept my boys alive and together.

I pull out my phone, sending a text to Sammy.

11:58 PM. Keep him safe, Winchester. Remind him always that I loved him. I love you Sam, always keep fighting.

I know when midnight strikes, I hear the howling start, the barking of the hell hounds. I don’t move, I don’t run, I don’t feel fear. I just embrace the fact that my time here is up. I close my eyes and allow the darkness to over take me.

Dean

I wake up colder than I should be, my arms empty. I jump to my feet, eyes wide scanning the room for Y/N. But she isn’t here, I check my phone it’s well after midnight.

“No, no, no!” I yell, crossing the small room quickly and throwing to door open. She’s gone. Everything that we’d been through together, just over. My phone rings, and I reach for it. Answering before it even registers.

“Dean,” it’s Sam, his voice thick with emotion. “Where are you?” He asks.

“Some motel, she’s gone Sammy. She left in the middle of the night and she’s just gone. I couldn’t save her.” I say, the anger that I felt turning to grief and sadness.

“Send me the address Dean, I’m coming.” I hang up the phone and send Sam a quick text with the address to the motel. I sit down on a bench and see her phone and sweatshirt resting precariously on the edge. I take them, tears welling in my eyes as I focus on the Lock Screen picture. It’s us, together. A picture I had resisted taking in the moment, but here and now I’m so eternally grateful for it.

I understood now, how she felt those two short years ago. The prospect of being left alone, without the one you love, its unbearable. I would do anything, in this moment to have her back. Anything. I notice now the sound of something crinkling in my flannel pocket, I reach in and pull out a note, her elegant handwriting adorning the page. I unfold it, steadying my breathing before I read it.

Dean,

Well my love, if you’re reading this, my time is up. I want to thank you for making the most of the time we had together, these last few years with you have been the best years of my life. I never once doubted your love for me, I never feared that you would leave me and that is something I never had before I met you.

You taught me how to love myself, how to protect myself from the evils of this world and the next. No amount of time would have been enough with you, even if we had 100 years together I would still want more time.

I know you’re angry with me, for making this deal. Saving you, over me. But Dean, it had to be this way. I couldn’t live with out you, I didn’t have anyone else. You do, you have Sam. You have to live for Sam and Bobby and all your other hunter friends. They need you Dean.

I want you to keep fighting, if not for yourself, then for me. Keep fighting for me baby. Remember that I love you, I will always love you. I will always be with you, wherever you go. Whatever monsters you might encounter, I will be with you. Please take care of yourself, take in the fresh air, dance in the rain, gaze at the moon and the stars.

I know you will be angry with me for not waking you, but I didn’t want you to watch. I couldn’t bear knowing you saw the way I died. It’s going to be okay, my love. I promise.

I’m going to fight my way through hell, and find my way back to you. Either in this life, or the next.

I love you baby, never forget just how much.

Your girl, forever & always,

Y/N

Hot tears are streaming down my face, the pain from losing her so fresh and yet the peace that washed over me from her letter is so intoxicating. I hold her sweatshirt up to my nose, inhaling her scent and a new wave of grief hits me.

Sammy shows up in the impala not long after, parking next to Y/N’s truck. He crosses the parking lot to join me on the bench, silence hanging between us so thick and heavy. Neither one of us has the words to express what we are feeling. We sit, watching the stars slowly cross the night sky, the moon sinking further down in the sky, eventually being replaced by the sun rising.

I can’t tell you how long we stayed there, or how we got back to the bunker. All I know is that I am broken.

A week passes, then two. I didn’t leave the bunker, I drank myself to sleep every night. Until we ran out of whiskey and beer and Sam refused to go buy me more. Bobby called me daily, Ellen every few days, all to check on me. But I haven’t answered. I don’t have the energy to lie to them, tell them I am alright, that everything will be okay.

Sam and I don’t talk much, he lets me know he is there, but doesn’t press me to talk. I spend most of my time in my room, sleeping on her side of the bed, spraying everything I own in her perfume. Trying to be as close to her as I physically can. The letter she wrote me framed, so I can read it, over and over without it getting ruined. I have been through all of the stages of grief, some days easier than others. Most days hard, and unyielding.

A month passes, I’ve stopped drinking. Sam finally got me to go on a hunt, we were gone for less than a day. I see her in my nightmares, my brain creating images of the hellhounds tearing her to pieces. I spend most nights awake and most days sleeping.

Two months pass, things have gone back to mostly normal. We’re hunting again, more frequently. Most days I am okay, it hurts when I think about it, but nothing will ever fully take that pain away. I ran out of her perfume, but I bought more. Unwilling to let go of that completely. I see her in my dreams, she’s happy and carefree. Her smile permanently burned into my brain. I’m grateful for the time I had with her. Things will be okay, I know that now. I will be okay.

---

part 3 here, Crossroads III

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laundrybiscuits · 1 year

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(wait for the season to come back to me tag)

Eddie doesn’t want to tell the kids yet. Steve kind of understands, but he also knows Dustin’s never going to forgive him for holding out like this. He cancels his biweekly lunch with Dustin twice before sitting Eddie down and saying, “We gotta tell him something.”

“Fuck off,” says Eddie.

“He’s twenty-five years old. He can handle it.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about.”

“What the hell are you worried about, then?” Steve snaps. “I can’t keep lying to him, man! It’s not fucking fair! Just because you—”

“Steve,” says Robin. “Come on. Cool your jets, hotshot.”

Steve realizes he’s been kind of yelling, then. He also realizes that he’s standing over Eddie, who’s folded into a defensive crouch, and Eddie’s nails are in serious danger of ripping the couch cushions open. Eddie doesn’t look scared, exactly, but his face has gone inhumanly still and blank. It’d probably be worrying if there was any space in Steve for worry.

The anger’s still roaring full-tilt through Steve, though. He gets like this sometimes for no goddamn reason at all, and he knows it’ll pass in a minute, but right now the urge to break something is so, so strong.

“Fuck,” he snarls, and wheels around, storming into the kitchen.

He runs the tap just so there’s some noise as he tries to get his shit under control. Robin comes in after a little while.

“I’m—going to the gym,” Steve says, still gripping the sink hard.

“Okay,” says Robin. “Be safe.”

———

When he comes back, Eddie’s not in the living room.

“I told him he could hang out in my room for a while,” Robin says, before Steve can work himself up into a panic. “I think it would be good for him to have, like…his own private space. Not—I’m not talking about kicking him out, obviously. But maybe we could figure out a partition or something in the living room?”

“Yeah, sounds like a good idea,” says Steve. “God. I’m so sorry. He knows I’m sorry, right?”

Robin flicks him on the forehead. “Yeah, he gets it, dingus. I think he called you an ambulatory fountain of penitence once. Like, a perpetual apology machine.”

“Sure,” says Steve. “Got a lot to apologize for.”

“Nope, we’re not doing that,” says Robin, patting him gingerly on the shoulder. “I’d hug you but you’re all gross and sweaty. Go shower, you’ll feel like a person again.”

He does feel like a person again after a shower, but the Dustin question still hasn’t been figured out. He tries to bring it up again after a few days.

“I wouldn’t even have told you guys I was back if you hadn’t kidnapped me,” says Eddie, picking at his dinner. Vegan stuff is usually okay, weirdly enough, so Steve’s been learning to cook with tofu. He’s not sure if Eddie actually gets anything out of it on a nutritional level; he hasn’t asked.

“Yeah, I know,” says Steve. He’s trying pretty hard not to get mad again. It keeps him up sometimes, thinking about how easily Eddie could’ve wandered into a different bar that night. He hopes that they would’ve crossed paths sometime anyway, being in the same city and all, but maybe not. He just doesn’t know.

“So you get it, right?” says Eddie. “Why I don’t want to put that on the kids. They’ve all, like…processed it and everything. They’ve moved on, just like you did before I came back and fucked up your life again. And you didn’t even really know me.”

It’s not like he’s saying it in a mean way, but it’s deliberate. He’s watching Steve carefully to see how it lands. Steve takes a deep breath; he can do this right, this time.

“Eddie,” he says. “You know I’m glad you’re back, right? You’re not fucking up my life, I’m happy you’re here.”

“You seem a little stressed for a guy who’s supposed to be happy.” Eddie leans back and smiles. It doesn't reach his eyes. “Just seems sometimes like maybe it would’ve been better for you if I’d stayed, like, a story from your past.”

“No,” says Steve. “No. No. Never. It—might’ve been less complicated, maybe. But not better.”

Eddie looks down at his plate, silently fiddling with the golden-brown chunks of fried soy protein, and Steve realizes it might not just be about how the kids will react.

“Hey. You know it’s going to be fine, right? Dustin loves you. He wants you in his life, whatever that means, and you know he’s not gonna do anything to make you uncomfortable. Plus, he lives like one town away and has his own car, so if I keep putting him off like this he’s just gonna show up here one day and then we’ll really be screwed.”

It’s kind of a joke but it’s also really, really true. Eddie laughs, some of the tension finally dropping out of his shoulders, and says: “Okay. You’ve worn me down, Harrington. Alert the brat pack.”

#steddie #fic: wait for the season to come back to me #bel biv devoe voice: that boy has tra-u-ma #still struggling quite a bit with this story but here's SOMETHING ig #I also realized that both of my current active wips are vaguely angsty mid-90s Steve-POV stories set in Chicago #so like...damn. might need to write that Eddie-befriends-Robin-prior-to-Scoops fic I've been thinking about for a change of pace.#I just haven't written high schoolers in SO LONG idk!

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mimiriko · 1 year

Text

thinking about swimming in the ocean alone at night and meeting merman!geto, when you’re far enough from the shore that your feet dont touch the ground. a guilty pleasure, not a soul knows where you are submerged in cool waters.

and you’re used to feeling tingles of passing fishes, sometimes rocks and plastic brushing against your legs from the waves. nothing scares you. its an odd sentiment, but you feel at home. with tiny life around your feet, continuing whatever they were doing and accepting you as a part of their system.

but then, you see it— a dark outline in the waters. drawing up alarmingly close to you and you hold your breath. the moonlight shows nothing more than a shadow stagnant meters in front of you. you’re not prepared, empty handed and floating helplessly. a beat passes, a wave forms in the distance, and when it crashes, it leaves.

the next day, it comes again. a little closer, but that seemed to be an accident because it goes back to the same place. the movement of water makes it hard to find its eyes, but you’re sure its looking at you—a gut instinct.

a startling screech from a seagull echos and it’s gone once again.

and the cycle continues. a new addition to your small family under the sea, and you dont know what to feel. scared? strangely, not even in the slightest. there’s another feeling, but you rather not come to terms with it; it’ll only heighten your hunger for adventure.

the distance grows smaller by an inch everyday. it gets bolder, swims and skirts around a bubble it’s limiting itself to. but it’s enough for you to see scales gleaming under the stars. a pretty ombré of royal blue to mulberry, a glossy shine covering it. marred by black scars, scraps littered across the surface— but the strength, the vigor it has in its movements shows that they are victory marks.

but what really gets your heart to stop, blood gushing in your ears and your eyes bulging is the skin divided from the scales. human skin, porcelain human skin.

it comes nearer and you make no move to turn the other way, to flail and run to the shore because the scales you saw was on a tail, and the skin above was a stomach and chest scarily similar to a males’.

it—he? stays beneath the surface, long ebony hair flowing gracefully around his face, features still a little blurry.

and then, he comes up.

everything is sharpened, completely bare without a barrier between you. inky, hauntingly beautiful eyes swallow you whole, slick hair clinging to his head with just the tips still underwater. ghost white skin, wet and awfully smooth.

a fallen star in a bottomless ocean.

“it’s cold in the water this time of year, human. much too cold for you to be here.”

it’s talking.

the temperature drops with his words, and the bite of winter hits you hard out of nowhere. “‘s nothing i can’t handle.”

he hums, low and laced with silk. “and yet you’re shivering.” he points out, the ends of his lips curving upwards.

a shaky breath betrays you, the vapor fizzling out in front of him. his words are jumbling in your head and you’re blanking out. “you’ve been watching me for months, now you notice?”

“i was deciding,” he pauses, “if i should show myself.”

his words hang in the air. you feel overwhelmed, flooded with the implications. like a slap to your face, your wonder for him disappeared.

you’ve meet an unknown creature. a creature identical to myths, a upper half sculpted similar to a human and the lower half thinning out to form a tail.

and it can harm you, kill you— snatch your soul quietly while you’re still in his territory. your parents won’t ever recover, they’ll blame themselves for your adventures, won’t ever look at the ocean the same again. friends will whisper your ending until parents pull their children away from lakes, ponds, seas because your blood is spilled, and no one knows how.

no one will ever know that the myths are real, and they are as curious of the world above as we are of the world underneath.

“why did you?” you whisper, barely audible over the rippling waves. a delicate question, three words but it can uncover everything.

the silence that followed you couldn’t process. waiting for him to say something so that muddled (embarrassed?) look on his face can disappear. your fingers start to feel pruny, and your legs feel sore all over.

just when you muster a thought to swim back, a chance to put this encounter behind you, hitting the bed and to just forget— his jaw clenches.

“tired of seeing nothing but legs, at least i have a face to put on them now.”

with a huff and an oddly immature splash of his tail, he dives back underneath.

you’re too dazed to have seen the red on his ears, a shy wiggle of his tail.

(he’s never met a human before.)

#brain dump #very informal BUT MERMAN GETO WITH BIG ARMS AND LEAN WAIST AND SEXY AURA #🪐#geto x reader #getou x reader #geto x you #geto x y/n #getou x y/n #geto suguru x reader #☆.suguru

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talesfromthebacklog · 1 month

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Tales From The Frontlog: Princess Peach Showtime.

7/10

Princess Peach Showtime is good. It’s a game I’m willing to bet will be overlooked in the sea of Mario titles that exist on the Switch. It’ll probably be even a bit pricey down the line. The smaller weird titles like this tend to do that.

The best way to describe this game is that it’s a game about a being magical girl who uses various transformations to help people. When you look hard enough almost all the tropes are there and that alone makes this worth a pickup. Because games that are so blatantly like that are rare.

But you really feel like it’s missing something that could’ve made it truly special. Which is weird because it does offer a very complete experience. I guess the best way to put it is it has trouble feeling like a “Mario” world title. And not because Mario is missing. Give me some credit.

I had a fantastic time playing, but we’re about the dissect what I think Princess Peach Showtime is missing.

Firstly I want to get aesthetic out of the way. Partially because there were a lot arguments online if Peach was “fem” enough. Which was peak stupidity. Peach is the fem of fems. It was insane this was even an argument. Also these outfits rocked.

But more importantly her game really lacked that Mario pop. Peach is fun, the premise is great, but you really could swap out Peach for a different magical girl and the premise/world still work. Peach just sells better. And she’s cute. Just look at her.

And I’m not complaining about the absence of most of the Mario cast. Characters as individuals should be able to shine on their own. Peach being the only main cast member used was a great decision. But you don’t feel like you’re in that high fantasy Mario environment. Even when away from the Mushroom Kingdom mario still has a very specific look to it.

Mario is high fantasy in its own way. I wanted to see that better reflected in Princess Peach Showtime. Every once in a while you do see glimpses, specifically in a Paper Mario way. Where the backgrounds are obviously set dressing, the horses have strings, some thorns were cardboard cut out, etc.

I think they needed to lean into this more. In a way I think the environment needed to be less immersive. I get that “there’s evil magic” but I think it should’ve looked a bit more hokey like real plays. Also put some people in the audience watching Peach rescue people. Have curtains close at the end of levels instead of it fading to white and then closing. You’re closing the curtain. You don’t need the fade to white. They’re small details that would’ve gone a long way to really increase the look. Maybe even bring some of the lighting in as part of the platforming where you’re running on the equipment and then reenter on a stage over.

It might be a useless complaint. I think this might’ve been more of a quick budget title for Nintendo at the end of a console life cycle, but don’t quote me on that.

There’s small aesthetic nitpicks I have too.

Like what the fuck is this? And they do this with the green and blue dresses too where they add this clashing purple. I’m not going to sit here and tell you she looks hideous. She doesn’t, but let us have a dress that is completely blue! And they don’t match the shoe color to any of the dresses fyi. Those stay her traditional red. I know that’s a nitpick, like a really small one, but it still… bothers me. I understand why they put it there. I just don’t care. Purple and yellow? And so lazily executed? Hmpf.

And she obviously looks better when everything matches to some degree. Look at that! Why did they restrict the color palette on the dress options so much. I get that pink is her color but… come on. The costumes are allowed to break the mold but the dresses aren’t?

Also just missed opportunity for some simple easter egg dresses. Especially since some of those challenges are tedious as all get out. I did all that to earn this ⬇️ and not something genuinely cool. Fucking ick. It’s not bad looking but not worth doing a frustrating to control challenge for. I’m not even asking for new dress models. But let us put her in a Daisy dress or something. I don’t know.

And the levels… are always fun on a first play through. But if you’re playing without a guide as a completionist you’ll need to run through them more than once because it is easy to miss stuff. And it can be more time consuming than it’s worth. And when you’re on a fourth attempt that shit gets old quick.

Don’t get it twisted though: this game is short, sweet, and regularly mixes up the gameplay to keep gamer’s on their toes. There are no costumes or game mechanics that overstay their welcome. Whenever I walked into a new stage I was uncertain what I would be walking into and the costumes are all equally fun in different ways. They do a good job balancing out the adventure and recreation costumes too. So you get a break from faster paced action by baking instead. Smart. My favorite is you get a magical girl transformation for each new costume you get and only for the first time you get it.

The transformations are fun. Plain and simple.

From a gameplay perspective I don’t actually have that many complaints. It’s not complicated by any means, nor is it hard. But it’s not meant to be those things. Princess Peach Showtime is just a fun cozy game getaway. Maybe even something you play in between other games.

Then there’s Madame Grape. I get what they were going for. They wanted a fruit villain because they have a “fruit” protagonist. (I think there is an homage to Dionysus as well.) But it’s just very eh. I don’t know how to fix that to make it less eh. I think it’s a core design problem. Additionally Madame Grape, despite being mentioned throughout the entire story, isn’t very important. She is a vessel for the plot to exist. Which isn’t inherently a bad thing, a lot of Nintendo villains fill this role, but she also has no iconic qualities to her either. She’s just kind’ve this purple blob that shows up from time to time. I do like that Nintendo didn’t use Bowser though. It keeps the game female centric. So that’s cool.

I can’t get over how she needs to look more grape themed. I know Peach doesn’t necessarily have Peach themes but like… you could’ve told me she was the fucking plum queen and I would’ve believed you. But I’m nitpicking again.

Stella the helper is… nothing. She exists as the vessel to make Peach a magical girl. Stella is the magical girl pet/wand/narrator for the adventure. She’s not bad. She’s just nothing.

The other NPCs (both friend and foe) fall into that Nintendo hole of being the same cardboard cutout person in different costumes over and over too. (At least they had different costumes…) Which is to be expected at this point, they’re just “not Toads”. And I know not every game can have a Mario Odyssey budget but I feel like we needed more visual variety within the NPC cast. Though this is an old ass complaint folks have had about Mario titles for a while so I’m not going to dwell on it too much.

Also while “stars” make sense the little “not toads” should’ve been fruit themed too. That way you could at least swap out multiple colors and call them different “fruits” if you wanted to be lazy about it.

I guess that’s the issue with the game in general. The only real character that has any semblance of personality is Peach. Everything and everyone else is just set dressing so Peach can perform for the player. it makes sense but it leaves the world feeling empty. And I’m not asking for lore. This is not that kind of game. I think I just want more substance. Which is hard to do when you’re boiling down tropes into a 3 act structure for each costume.

And I have a lot of nitpicks here. Almost like I dislike the game. Which was not the case at all. I had a grand time. The costumes are fun, it’s fun to play all the way through, and the levels in the game itself also doesn’t overstay its welcome. At max you’re looking at a 12 hour experience if you’re a completionist.

Under ten if you just want to play it.

Visually the game is beautiful. The music was nothing to write home about.

But. I think because it’s a short experience I’m disappointed it didn’t push itself harder to be high aesthetic. Games that are both genuinely good and girly are hard to find. Often “feminine focused” games like this just fucking suck. You can tell Nintendo cared about this project.

But I think to be an 8 or 9 experience it needed to push its visuals a bit harder.

#princess peach #peach #princess toadstool #mario #mario bros #super mario bros #super mario #princess peach showtime #peach showtime #nintendo switch #nintendo #tales from the frontlog #magical girl #magical girls #video game review #game review #game reviews

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wheels-of-despair · 10 months

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happy six months my love 🖤🖤

i’m so proud of you and all the work you’ve put into everything you’ve written 🫶

could i please get one of the following:

💋 + Ralphie

👙 + Eddie

🥀 + Billy

cant wait to see what you come up with 😍 i know it’ll be perfect c:

(I choose Ralphie! 😍)

A funny thing happens when a man gets married.

He can go his entire life being ignored, but the second a ring appears on that finger? Every girl in town wants him.

This realization hit you as you stood across the room from your sweet Ralph at a charity event. A former classmate had pulled you aside to catch up, and he'd gone to get drinks.

They descended on him like locusts.

You watched as he blushed and stuttered, somewhat amused at seeing him receiving all this attention from girls who'd never given him a second glance… but were ready to swoop in and shoo them away the second they took things too far.

When one of them pulled Ralph down and left a dark purple lipstick stain on his cheek, you had to excuse yourself from the girl blabbering about her husband to go rescue yours.

He is eyes locked on yours the second you took a step toward him. He looked terrified, as if he'd been caught doing something wrong. His fear is the only reason you decided to focus on the rescue, and not dragging that purple-lipped whore into the street by her hair.

"Darling?" You smiled politely and extended a hand to him. He scurried through the crowd of desperate women and didn't stop until he was by your side. You took his hand and led him outside for a breath of fresh air. When you were finally alone, you turned to him. He stared at the ground.

"Ralph?" you asked, grasping his chin gently and lifting it so he had to look at you. "Are you alright?"

"I'm sorry," his chin wobbled, "I'm so sorry. I tried telling them that-- I didn't want-- I would never--"

"Ralphie, calm down, you didn't do anything wrong. I'm not angry with you. Are you alright?"

He sniffles, but nods. You reach inside his jacket pocket to pull out his handkerchief, and attempt to wipe the purple mark from his face. It smudges, but remains.

"Do you want to go to the restroom and wash this off before we go back in, or are you ready to call it a night and go home?"

"Home."

"Alright, love, let's go."

Ralph still seemed nervous when you got home. He darted into the bathroom and started scrubbing his face before he even took his jacket off. When he came out, his cheek was red and raw.

"It's gone," he said quietly.

"I see that," you smiled, stroking his red cheek with your cool fingers. He leaned into your touch.

"I'm sorry," he said again.

"Ralphie, you didn't do anything wrong. Some girls only want what they can't have. And since you're mine, and they can't have you, you're what they want."

"I should have been more firm--"

"It's alright, Ralph. I just won't let you out of my sight again when painted whores are present. Lesson learned."

This brings a smile to his face.

"I have an idea," you say slyly. "Why don't you get undressed and wait for me on the bed? I'm going to slip into something a little more comfortable and join you in a moment."

Ralph gulps, turns, and disappears into the bedroom.

You strip to your slip, extract your favorite lipstick from your purse, and quietly approach the bedroom.

Ralph is sitting on the edge of the bed in nothing but his underwear. His hands are on his knees, and he's staring at the floor. You stand in front of him, and once again, lift his chin and make him look at you.

Why does he still look terrified? This was supposed to be a sexy surprise.

"Ralph, are you alright?"

"What are you going to do to me?" he whispers, his big eyes shining.

"I'm just going to mark you up a little. Is that alright?"

He nods and scrunches his eyes shut, as if he's bracing himself for a blow. Is he shaking? What does he think you're going to do to him?

"Ralphie? Can you look at me?" you ask softly, with a gentle caress to his cheek. He opens his eyes and looks up at you. Better get this show on the road before he starts crying.

You maintain eye contact as you apply a fresh coat of lipstick. Setting it aside and slowly lifting the bottom of your slip, you straddle him, cradle his head in your hands, and lean forward to kiss him lightly on the forehead. And then once on each cheek. And his chin. And the tip of his nose.

Once he realizes you're really not upset with him, you feel him relax. He starts giggling as you make your way down his neck. You lean back and look at your amazing husband, covered in lipstick kisses. Your lipstick kisses. In his favorite color, too.

"Beautiful," you admire, "but we're just getting started." You place a hand on each of his shoulders and push him back onto the bed. You reach for your lipstick and reapply before kissing your way down his bare chest.

You slip off the bed and to your knees on the floor as you leave kisses on each side of that lovely strip of hair below Ralph's navel. You feel a suspicious twitch against your breasts as you slowly work your way lower.

He whines when you stop to apply another fresh coat of lipstick.

"Don't worry, my darling," you assure him, tugging his shorts down. "I'm not done marking my territory yet."

wheels-of-despair's six-month fic-iversary emoji-bration

#six months of despair #writings of despair #ralph penbury x you #ralph penbury x reader #sorry it took so long but i was saving you for my grand finale <3

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astrronomemes · 1 year

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ALADDIN: THE KING OF THIEVES STARTERS

a collection of quotes, phrases, and sayings from the 1996 Disney film Aladdin: The King of Thieves. change & alter as needed.

“Somebody’s gonna be late for his own wedding!”

“It’s a bachelor party, big boy!”

“This is for the wedding.”

“It belonged to my father.”

“He died a long time ago.”

“[Name], are you getting cold feet?”

“What do I know about families? What if I’m no good at it?”

“If your father were here, he’d be as proud of you as I am.”

“Someone has to keep a cool head, [name].”

“Someone will have no head if this turns out to be another wild goose chase.”

“I can see fine from back here.”

“I’m not gonna cry. I’m not.”

“I thought the earth wasn’t supposed to move until the honeymoon.”

“So this isn’t a bad day for you, really, is it?”

“It must be here somewhere.”

“You have a lot of spirit. And a lot of mouth.”

“Stay out of my way, boy, and you won’t get hurt.”

“That was for ruining my wedding.”

“This is not my fault! This was not built to code!”

“Good luck getting back the catering deposit.”

“Hey, I want to see some resumes on these guys.”

“I am so sorry about all this, [name].”

“With all the other great stuff, why go for this thing?”

“Did someone say ‘treasure’?”

“I see all that has been, and all that will be.”

“Okay, you know all, so tell all.”

“I know what my future is. My future is you.”

“I have no idea where I come from.”

“I don’t think you can help me.”

“My father is alive?”

“What kind of man leaves his son?”

“How can you be so sure?”

“How bad is it?”

“I want to get in, get out, and go home.”

“If you’re talking about spilling my blood... well, I just don’t see that happening.”

“Like it or not, boy, we’re blood.”

“I thought I’d never see you again.”

“Yes, [name], mercy would be so like you — soft, and weak.”

“A test? That’s not so bad. Maybe it’ll be multiple-choice!”

“Knock ’im dead, kid. Seriously.”

“You would know if [name] was in trouble, wouldn’t you?”

“I thought he’d be back by now.”

“It’s a joke! ...I do that.”

“Thanks for cheering me up.”

“You did your old man proud, [name].”

“I was just trying to stay alive.”

“We never hurt the innocent.”

“That’s just a myth!”

“You don’t know what it’s like to have nothing!”

“I thought my family was lost forever.”

“I wanted a father. I still do.”

“[Name] may not understand, but it just wouldn’t work. I don’t belong in his world.”

“Get off that thing before you break your neck!”

“This creep’s got a yellow sheet as long as my arm.”

“You are most definitely [name]’s father.”

“All he needed was a second chance.”

“It’s a slap-on-the-wrist and community-service kind of thing.”

“I thought I could change him. I had to try.”

“You can change my clothes, [name]. You can’t change who I am.”

“There are some wishes that even I can’t make come true.”

“Everything was perfect before he came into my life.”

“It’s the cape talking, isn’t it?”

“I’ve come to say goodbye.”

“We don’t have much time.”

“They can’t catch me.”

“I want him dead or alive.”

“We shall see if [name] wants you in his family now.”

“Keep your hands off my son!”

“I did lose my lunch back there.”

“By then, we’ll be long gone.”

“I’m sorry for what you’ve lost, but you can’t go back now. You know that.”

“I’m not going with you.”

“You ran away from your family!”

“It’s a good day to die.”

“They’re my family. My only family.”

“Frankly, my boy, your actions were most disappointing.”

“What you have done... well, you did it out of love.”

“I know your dad made a lot of bad choices, but that doesn’t mean you have to.”

#rp meme #roleplay meme #rp starters #roleplay starters #dialogue prompts #rp memes #rp prompts #roleplay memes #sentence memes #sentence prompts #sentence starters

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rabbit-harpist · 5 months

Text

O Segredo Na Floresta (episodes 1 and 2)

Thoughts on a first-time view of OSNF

To start I’d like to say that I’m just an English-speaking gal and the only Ordem knowledge I have is from osmosis and Quarentena. Which I loved, so I’m trying to get into the subtitled seasons of Ordem Paranormal now.

I did not watch the first season (subtitles take a lot of brain energy and I heard OSNF was more settled into the flow of the series) but I did watch an ‘Ordem Paranormal but very very fast’ animation!

-It was interesting that Mr. Verissimo is an actual guy they can just talk to? It felt like he was going to be much more mysterious, or a symbol for the order, or perhaps a late-revealed villain. He still could be, I really don’t know.

-It’s been a bit since I watched the first episode, but I liked the characters. The dynamic between Cesar and his father is so interesting—Christopher can’t stop him from joining the order; he’s his own person and he can make his own decisions. But he knows that this isn’t safe and he doesn’t want his son near it—I want to see them be forced to understand each other better.

-Also, that overenthusiastic police guy. He was funny. It’ll be great if he comes back later and gets immediately killed off. Talking to him also helped make me feel how remote this place is—it makes sense that something paranormal could be hiding out here.

-What happened to the first investigation team? They couldn’t have gone through the sanatorium—all those monsters will still trapped and waiting when the player team came through. There’s so much story waiting to be uncovered and I’m fascinated by the planning it takes to make a campaign like this work.

-The sanatorium was very gross. Worse than everyone kept saying Christopher was. And very creepy. It’s awful what they were doing—the critical mass it takes to get a paranormal meltdown so bad that everything is transformed must be hard to achieve and they did it without even meaning to.

-the discovery of the fused women and the spiral goop! the sequence as Liz unconciously reached for it, began tracing out the symbol, felt as if she was regaining health only to be revealed she was losing sanity—so good!

-I love Cellbit as GM:

‘Wait a minute, I’m taking out my /list of mental diseases your characters can develop/‘

The noises! He narrates calmly but any battle scene must be acted out with full monster noises and impassioned gestures. it’s one of my favorite things about this honestly

the other noises too. In the subtitles it’s all rendered as (punch sound) (growls) (sound of door opening) and it’s all him doing it

-Jyoui and calling Liz Liz-senpai and being so happy when she gives him any kind of compliment. it’s sweet. he’s great. I want him to be okay at the end of this.

-Christopher’s bad english accent. I find this funny because I cannot pick up on it (I’m bad at recognizing accents even when they’re /in/ English) but it was the focus of multiple scenes

-that moment when, after the defeat of an enemy near the end of the second episode, Jyoui, overcome by admiration for Christopher, asks to take a picture of him (holding up his phone in real life.

cellbit, very seriously, asks for a photography test. Jyoui takes an okay picture. Christopher rolls and fails horribly. He is the worst model possible.

it was just very funny after a lot of tense fighting and I really liked it.

-also the ‘gods of death eat apples’ because I got the reference and also duolingo is doing something! I know ‘eat’ and ‘apple’!

-I like this! it’s difficult to find time when I’m able to focus on reading subtitles but when I am watching they don’t impact my enjoyment much. I enjoy the characters and the vibes and I’m really interested in what’s going to happen in all the many episodes. I’ve only seen quarentena, I’ve got no idea how that works.

so cool. it’s so cool and I just want to record my thoughts to go back to. when I’ve finished the next episode (could be awhile) will record more thoughts

Thank you so much subtitle people!!!! If you ever see this I’m so grateful <3

#osnf reaction #ordem paranormal #osnf #osnf spoilers

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hugsandchaos · 3 months

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Final chapter of Caregiver N

N pounded hard against the window of the escape pod, but it barely did a thing. The glass was made to withstand intense blows, and he was injured and exhausted from the previous events, so the fact that his blows aren’t doing much wasn’t surprising. Although it did make N’s situation worse for him. Digital tears rolled down his screen.”NO, NO, NO, NO!!! MOM, PLEASE!!!” He screamed desperately.

His mom, who was actually a lifelong friend the same age as him and their other friends and often acted like a mom, fired another bullet with her only remaining arm at another human’s head. She glanced back at him with tears of her own threatening to break free from her yellow eyes and smiled at him. It was both a sad and hopeful smile.”Listen, N. I know it’s scary, being the first real time, but I think you’ll have to be on your own for a while. But don’t worry, it’ll all get better.” She said, trying to comfort him.

A human grabbed the disassembly drone from behind, but she was able to break free by shooting her broken wings out of her hatches. The torn metal pierced through the soldier’s body and they fell down when she brought them back into her back. She spotted a human trying to stop the launch and shot them multiple times so they wouldn’t prevent N from escaping. Hearing more soldiers coming, N’s friend knew she couldn’t beat them all. Not with her injuries. But she could enough time for her friend to escape, and that was all she wanted now. Meanwhile, N tried using his tail to stab through the pod, but the acid was working so slow that he knew that by the time he could tear a hole through, it’d be too late. He was helpless. His last friend, his only remaining family, was going to die and he couldn’t do anything. N could barely control his emotions and watched as his mother figure glanced at the hallway, and then back at him again.”Please, don’t go!!!” He cried out.

EMERGENCY POD LAUNCHING IN 10...

9...

“Don’t let them ever catch you,”

7...

6...

She turned back to the hall and her tail swished angrily,”And thank you for being in my life.”

3...

2...

1...

N shot awake and frantically glanced around the small room. He sat up in the odd structure of surprisingly soft and cool fabric things. He could see through the darkness of the basement with his advanced senses and noticed the papers with sloppy drawings and weird colored pens on the floor nearby. The walls, floor, and ceiling appeared made of stone and felt cool. Everything that happened after the incident came flooding back to him.

Somehow surviving a black hole, crashing on Earth, finding a mansion that had tons of barrels of oil in a shed, and meeting Cyn, V, J, and Tessa. The fact that his first family was still gone.

As he recounted the nightmare, N slowly began to feel like... He began to feel small. That was the best way to describe it. He felt like he was a droneling again, but this time, there weren’t any of his family members to hug and comfort him. There was no one to hide behind, there was no one to protect him. He reached a hand up and tried rubbing the faux fur on the collar of his coat in an attempt to calm himself down like he did so long ago, but it wasn’t working as well as he would’ve liked. He could practically hear the soldiers screaming and shouting. N moved into a fetal position and opened the hatches on his back, wrapping his large wings around himself to hide.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

J held the cup of oil carefully as she opened the trapdoor to the basement, trying not to spill it even though it had a lid on it to prevent it. As she turned and descended into the dark room, she was surprised to hear something. She paused to listen, and soon realized it was crying. She turned around and only barely saw N’s wings in the far left corner of the room with the limited light. J hurried her descent and placed the tall cup on the floor before she began walking towards N. Unexpectedly, his tail rose up from between his wings with the stinger pointed at her. J stopped and looked a little scared.”...N? Are you alright?” She asked. His tail slowly lowered and disappeared. His wings moved, but just enough for N to peek out at her with one of his eyes.”J?” He mumbled.

His tone reminded her of when V or Cyn regressed. At that point, it would take an idiot not to tell that he was upset. She walked closer and knelt down in front of him to be closer to eye level.“Yes, it’s me. Are you okay?” She asked. N stared at her for a moment before glancing down at the floor. At that moment, J noticed the small pink blush on his screen. Her eyes briefly widened in surprise, but then she blinked and brought herself back.“I don know...” N replied quietly.

J hummed and turned around. She didn’t notice N looking at her a little hurt as she stood and walked towards where she left the oil, or him moving his wings more to reach out as if to stop her. He didn’t say anything as he brought his arm back and frowned. Then he noticed J coming back with the cup and perked up. She sat down next to him and offered him the oil.”Here. Drink this, take a deep breath, and you can tell me what’s wrong, little buddy.” She said, speaking in a softer and sweeter tone than she usually does. N wiped the digital tears from his screen and lowered his wings down to the floor.”’M not lil.” He said as he accepted the oil.

He took a sip from the cup after opening it and J put a hand on his shoulder.”Sure, N. Don’t drink too fast.” She said. N continued drinking until it was halfway empty and set it down. After that, he tried to take a deep breath, but it was shaky and a little shallow. He took another to try again and J waited patiently.”Take your time.” She said. N tried a third time and wrapped his arms around himself again.“...I jus wanna stop tinking about it.” He said. J gave him a warm smile and leaned forward a little bit. She was really worried about what happened before she came down to the basement, but she also didn’t want to push him when he’s already upset.“That’s okay. Would you like me to go grab a book so we can read instead?” She asked. N waited a moment before nodding. J stood up.

She walked over to the ladder.”Alright, I’ll grab one of the Clifford books. Those are your favorite, right?” She asked. She turned around to see N looking a little embarrassed.”N-No!” He said. J tilted her head slightly and raised an eyebrow at him.

“...Yes, it is my favowite...” He admitted.

#au #murder drones #murder drones n #murder drones j #murder drones agere #murder drones little n #murder drones caregiver j #murder drones fanfic #I’m done!#I did it!#:D

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likesunsetorange · 3 months

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I am extremely excited about the bodyguard au! Tbh at first I thought it was gonna be a really weird au, but now I can't wait!!! I also want to say that dol is the best eremika fanfic I've ever read ( and trust me I've read A LOT of them). I really hope the next chapter comes out soon cause I really miss it 😭. Your work is amazing!

lol at first glance i can understand that a bodyguard au does sound a little off so i don’t blame you haha but im glad youre excited!! its one of my favs so im really excited to share with yall!

and thank you omg, that means so much!! ik ive been treating dol like my bastard child lmao but i promise it’ll be coming soon ive been working on ch 17!! dol is my biggest love it brought me to eremika and all my friends on here so it’ll always be the favorite 🩵 but thank you again for reading all my stuff, im really glad you enjoy all my silly little stories!!!

here’s a little snippet from ch 17 just bc i feel like i never talk about dol on tumblr LOL i feel like i only do on twitter!!

The pads of Mikasa’s fingertips were gentle across his skin, rubbing soap across his skin in circular motions as to not further irritate the numerous burns the accident left him with. Even the smallest of touches would irritate his injuries, but Mikasa had always been delicate in everything she did.

It was the stark difference between the two of them—Mikasa approached life with a level of caution and tenderness that Eren had never possessed. He had gone through so much of his life approaching everything with a sense of callousness, always brash and aggressiveness, but it was as if all of Mikasa’s benevolence had somehow rubbed off onto Eren. He was certain part of it was a result of all the time they spent together, but also because Mikasa was deserving of all that was good—even from him.

The cool shower stream drew gently against her back, her dark hair slicked back from the water, droplets of water falling gingerly down her face. Her fingers traced the outlines of the where his scars spanned from his wrist to the curvature of his shoulder, some spots more mangled than others. A sullen look washed across her face, and he could see the faintest trace of her lip quivering.

“These are gonna scar,” she said quietly, her voice almost inaudible over the stream of the shower.

“And if they do, it’s okay, I don’t mind. I’ll get to tell everyone who asks how I almost got burned to death trying to play hero,” he attempted to reassure her. She gave him a reproachful look, evidently unable to appreciate the “humor” in his words. His face softened at her expression, knowing despite his constant reassurances, she was still shaken up by the accident.

“Mikasa…” He started softly. “I’m here right now, aren’t I? I’m okay, I promise. You don’t have to keep worrying.” Eren took the hand that was still inspecting his multiple burns and brought it to his chest, just above his heart. “You feel that? I’m alive and I’m okay. I’m here talking to you, and I have no intentions of going anywhere else. I’m here to stay as long as I’m able to—I can promise you that much, cariño.”

Her mouth opened as if to protest but she merely pressed her lips into a thin line, opting to merely nod in response instead. Her eyes had the glossed-over look they did whenever she was about to cry, only he knew that she wouldn’t allow herself to—not now, at least.

Eren’s face fell into a frown, knowing that whatever unspoken thoughts were running rampant in her head, were the exact opposite of not worrying. “Mikasa, look at me,” he urged, tilting her chin up so that her eyes met his. “Please, don’t worry anymore—if not for yourself, then for me. I will do everything on your list to the T, I promise. I won’t even try to still go on my runs like I had been secretly planning to—”

“Eren, what the hell? It’s almost like you don’t wanna get better or something,” she chastised, the scowl he had grown to appreciate perched on her face.

“Which is exactly why I’m not going to anymore, I don’t want you to keep stressing about this—about me.”

#dol #asks #vic’s wips

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the-sappho-of-lesbos · 1 year

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You know that one video that’s like “when you become aware as a kid” and suddenly you’re like oh I’m alive!! I’m a thing!!

I feel like your early to mid 20s is that but for how time and age works. You just get hit with this impending fear of time and awareness of how big the things you once thought were small are and how small the things you once thought were big are.

Everything just jumps on it’s head.

You are still technically part of the “cool” revolution and beauty and romanisation of youth , but at the same time you are more acutely aware then ever of how unbelievably fast time moves so you see yourself slipping into category you’ve spent your entire life up until that point being socially programmed to believe you are cooler then, smarter then, kinder then, more deserving then , by those around you. Only to be hit with the reality that will be you and there isn’t a single thing in this world you can do to stop it.

Especially in a world that values the strength and beauty of youth. It’ll be gone. It’ll slip away. You will fall into the invisible important cracks of society that get pushed away as not enough anymore.

And that’s terrifying. Losing whatever ground you had built up to in this life.

Beauty shouldn’t be linked to treatment but it is. The age in which you achieve something shouldn’t be linked to age but it is. Suddenly those years of impressing people are slipping away and you get weighed down by all this anxiety to do enough before your time runs out so that it can still have meaning when you get older. To give you a lifeboat as age comes. Something to keep you afloat in prosperity and relevance and achievements.

It’s genuinely such a crushing and overwhelming feeling. And I think so many of us use those odd years in the middle of the transition so anxious and broken over what to do that we end up doing nothing. Which just fuels the fear and self hatred even more.

Because we are told that while we may still be alive , we are not wanted as we are, but as we were and what we could have been.

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calliopescompass · 5 days

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Hello and welcome to my new blog Calliope’s Compass 😁

I’m so excited for you all to join me on this new journey.

My name is Molly and my new travel trailer is named Calliope! I live in Florida with my senior Dog, Riley who is currently 10 and my senior Cat, Laveau who is currently 7. They’re joining me on this journey so it will be an adjustment for all of us.

I’m absolutely brand new to RV living. I go full time starting July 1st and I’m going to share my experiences, pictures/videos, successes, and fails with everyone here.

For a while I’m going to stay with my current job and I’ll be somewhat stationary, learning the ins and outs, the do’s and do not’s, the maintenance and upkeep of RV life (because there is a LOT). But eventually I am going to move on to traveling either with a remote position or traveling in my current career. I’m a Certified Surgical Technologist and a Certified Sterile Processing and Distribution Technician. I work in the OR and while I LOVE what I do, it doesn’t offer me very much freedom. (And I don’t even take call! I work Monday through Friday!) but by the time I get home I’ve been gone 12 hours and by Saturday I’m dead tired. I love that I get to help people and that I get to be a part of safety and protection for all of the patients that I see every day and I don’t plan on giving that up completely. I worked entirely too hard to let my skills or my certifications lapse. There has to be just the right option out there. I’m going to find it!

T-Minus 68 days until I move in! In this first post I’m going to share with you the first FIVE things I learned while in the research phase. Now let me preface by saying I’ve had A LOT of help getting started on this journey.

The first thing I learned while researching Full Time RV Living is that finding a long term spot in Florida is much more difficult than I ever imagined! Everywhere I’ve called is fully booked or has a year+ waiting list. So where am I going to end up? I have no idea. My first booking is for 3 months. After that I’m parking in a family member’s driveway for two days before we take a family trip to Ocala so I can wander through the Ocala National Forest for my birthday and spend some much needed time with my family. Not to mention, more practice driving while towing Calliope! And after that.. I’m still working on it. Florida is also always a mandatory evacuation zone for RVs and usually mobile homes during a storm. So there is a lot to consider when it comes to location! However, it’s really a cool option that I can just pack up my entire home and take it with me.

My second discovery—you can’t have AC unless you’re connected to power! That sounds like a basic knowledge statement, but I have solar panels and a battery and the electric will turn on the lights so I didn’t know you still needed power. I guess that’s why it’s sometimes referred to as boondocking when you’re not plugged in. You have a nice comfy bed but no AC. Running water but that runs out quickly because the tank is only so many gallons. (speaking of comfy beds… A lot of RVs come with a thin mattress that not even Satan would sleep on. Lol it’ll be an immediate upgrade for sure. Thankfully, my current mattress is coming with me!)

Three: the maintenance and upkeep on an RV to keep it in good shape is a LOT of work. There’s weekly, monthly, quarterly, and annual upkeep and maintenance required to keep everything running smoothly. Everything from just a weekly inspection of the interior and exterior seals, to sanitizing and flushing holding tanks, to AC coil cleaning and wheel greasing (because apparently that’s a thing). Oh, and emptying a black tank which is where all of the… unmentionable waste ends up. 😳

The fourth thing I have learned… moisture is the enemy! Dehumidifiers and Damprid will be one of my best friends!

And number five, DDO—Downsize, Declutter, and Organize. RV living offers a lot of interesting ways to store things but the space is minimal! I have a storage area under my bed, I thankfully have a large RV closet, a washer and dryer closet, a large pantry, and another storage section under my couch! plus some large drawers and cabinets. But the amount of things I have in my current home won’t all fit. So I am downsizing and decluttering and organizing. Not to mention everything you tow adds weight. The more weight, the bigger towing power you need. There’s an entire formula that I don’t understand at all. And you can only add so much. You also don’t want too many breakable items because whenever you move, things inside the RV also move! I’m looking into reusable plastic plates.

I hope you have enjoyed this first post so far! There could be more to come for this one!

Editing in progress because I’m just starting out! This may eventually also become a vlog! Patience please 🙏🏻

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dem0nguy · 20 days

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The council (me, myself, and I) have decided, I shall post about my way-too-elaborate OC lore!

I’ll likely share this through story snippets, spurts of lore, art, or whatever else comes to me. Regardless, I hope you enjoy something I’ve been crafting for many years in the back of my mind.

Now let me introduce you to a story called:

A Good Demon

Listen, part of me still doesn’t understand everything that’s happened to me over the past couple years. But these journal entries, those that I wrote while it was happening. May be the only accurate recount I can give you.

So much has changed over the years, I’ve lost and gained. I’ve gone from a naïve little boy to a kid who knows too much for his age.

So let my younger self tell you our story:

9/22/19

It’s My Birthday! Wahooo!!!!

Man I’ve been psyched for weeks! I’m turning twelve, and tomorrow I start 6th grade! It’s kinda crazy honestly. I’m not sure if I should be excited, or terrified.

But well, that’s what this journal is for. Writing down my thoughts and worries. As much as I will use it for that, I also wanna be able to look back when I’m older! It’ll be cool to see what future me thinks of present me (I hope future me is doing well!) He’s not, but the notion is nice.

I got a whole bunch of presents today! First off, I got this journal. Which seemed like a lame present at first (especially in comparison to my twin brother’s remote controlled car) but I’m learning to like it. I think… The journal is a marble red-black pattern, with a gold engraving on the front of my name “Adam”.

I also got a bunch of chocolate (my favorite candy!), as well as action figures from my favorite TV show, a few new books, a couple letters with money, and an odd red and blue crystal necklace. Irrelevant as it may be, chocolate is still my favorite candy.

The necklace was a gift from my Uncle Sam. He’s a very, err, interesting guy? I don’t know, he’s very closed off, and doesn’t seem very fond of anything really. But my dad (his twin brother. Isn’t it crazy there are two pairs of twins in this family??) Likes having him around.

My twin, Conner, got a similar necklace. Though it was a little more blue than red. Uncle Sam was very hesitant when giving them to us, almost as though he didn’t want to. It made me wonder if my dad had made him buy these for us.

I’m not ungrateful for his gift. Just, skeptical. He told us to keep the necklaces close by all day and night, that they’re a sign of good luck. Should’ve been more skeptical…

I’m not exactly gonna give up potential good luck. I’ll definitely need it for tomorrow. I’m absolutely terrified that I’m gonna get lost in the big concrete building that is “middle school.” I’ll have more than one teacher a year now, how will I remember them all?? What if I forget and walk into the wrong classroom? God that would be so embarrassing. All the looks from the other students trained on me, I can almost hear their snickering and laughing in my ears!

Even worse, what if I’m stuck in a class with no one I know? What if all my friends and my brother are on completely different sides of the building? What if there’s an emergency?? What would I do? Funny how this was my greatest fear when I was twelve.

I don’t think I can answer any of those questions, just thinking about them shakes me to the core. But, it is nice to write down on paper. Somehow the words are less scary when you can see them.

Hey, maybe this good luck charm will help me after all.

Little did I know it would make my life living hell.

(Part twoooooo :D)

#original story #original characters #journal enteries #entry 1 #epistolary #epistolary fiction #supernatural #fantasy #A Good Demon #AGD #man it feels good to finally make a tag for that #little me would be so happy im doing this #<3 #demon not posting about MB?#wild #/j

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fukuokanodivision · 21 days

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Eko’s Thoughts On Aomori Division

Aoi Yamamura-

“A real werewolf? In the DRB? You’re really serious? Wow, He seems to be a real challenger. I mean, It really isn’t everyday where you stumble upon the DRB and find some pretty interesting players around, Oh wait, It is. Arsonist Bomber, That doesn’t surprise me much, It’s rather common for DRB teams to have one member gone under a dark path from their past or whatever that means. This guy looks more than qualified, So I bet he’ll be ready if I have to face him and his team soon enough…”

Hisui Meguno-

“Wait, The werewolf has children now?! I wasn’t expecting this…So this guy is a part time violinist? Sweet, Violins are pretty. And a toy store clerk? Interesting! So this guy was adopted, That explains the children dynamic, Phew. You know, This team is getting way and way more intriguing by the minute here, I like it! Of course, We still have the DRB to prepare figure out where their loyalties come ‘out’ and play with my own team eventually. Don’t worry, I’m not a sucker to get on and mess with the creatures of the night.”

Ruka Shiina-

“The werewolves other kid, Right. A young radio personality, Pretty cool choice for a job. Back in the Traffic Light days, I was considering going ‘on air’, But the tempting idol experience didn’t leave me much free time in the schedule for that. He also must’ve been adopted too. I wonder why these 2 were pulled into the werewolves life somehow, I’ll probably never know. I can’t wait to learn more about this guy, Maybe I’ll even get to see what the teams really like?”

Akai Bara-

“Hmmmm, Howling Moon, Aomori Division…Here. Yamamura Aoi, Hisui Meguno, Ruka Shiina. Oh, Who do we have here? ‘Bara Akai’, Let’s see…A secret pit boss in Aomori you say? Now this teams getting to a new level of interesting…That’s odd, There isn’t anything else here, And I thought you lovely ladies at Chuohku had everything on the servers. It’s not important anyway, Maybe there’s something else omitting this persons identity or whatever you call that, ‘Encrypting’ I think it’s called.”

Howling Moon-

“Even the name alone is interesting?! I guess it isn’t common for me to find very “intriguing” teams around the DRB too often. Aside from that, These guys are really cool. And I thought my team was, But these guy’s sound like another level of genius here. Come to think of it, Fukuoka and Aomori are pretty far away, So it’s no wonder I never caught wind of them early. The next DRB is probably gonna be full of…What’s the word…”Different” teams these days. So it’ll be interesting to see them around…”

#hypmic oc #Aomori division

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miscelunaaa · 2 years

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engorged | kth

pairing: taehyung x reader (gender neutral! no use of gendered pronouns!)

genre: fluff, lil bit of crack, established relationship au

rating: 18+ because I said so. If extraction vids are age blocked on YouTube then so is this.

word count: 831

summary: You and Taehyung get along better than you could have ever imagined, but all bets are off when you have a disagreement about a “friend” who makes a surprise visit. On his face.

warnings: Strong language. Pimple popping, luridly described. Melodramatics. Popping zits is an art and Taehyung doesn’t get it. Mention of blood but no bleeding occursssss. Cleanliness overkill?? Practice safe extraction, kids.

notes: This really popped (heh) up out of nowhere! I sat down to join a sprint and realized I didn’t know what I wanted to work on and I rolled a d20 about it, and just counted back in my idea file and this is what the universe saw fit for me to work on! Note that this is actually an idea that came from the Fic Title Prompt game I did back in April, so you can blame the title on @minttangerines! But the idea actually came up when @illneverrecover and I were talking about something regarding pimples and BTS?? Maybe who was most likely to enjoy popping them?? I can’t remember, but I hope y’all enjoy this, as @thatlongspringnight described it, “delightfully unhinged” fic

my masterlist | my disclaimers | read on ao3

Taehyung is protective of so little in his life, and for the most part, they’re all things that really and truly do matter. There are, however, some disagreements you have as a couple. This one is more infuriating than most.

“Tae, it’s kind of bothering me. And it’s definitely bothering you! It’ll take like two seconds and it’ll stop hurting!”

“nO HE IS MY FRIEND LEAVE HIM ALONE.”

You sigh, and pinch the bridge of your nose.

“You’ve been complaining about your ‘friend’ for the past hour. Something about feeling your pulse in your nose? Does that ring a bell?”

His lips flatten into a line, which is about the closest you’ll get to an actual frown while he’s still in a good mood. He knows you’re right. This pimple’s just enormous, and it’s right in the crease between his nostril and his cheek. It’s fall and he’s been sniffly; every time he blows his nose he winces, and it’s not just because there’s only so much he can do about the congestion.

“Exactly. Just let me pop it. Two q-tips, I’ll even wear gloves. It’s got a head and everything and it’ll hurt for a sec and then feel better.”

Taehyung knows you like popping zits almost more than anything. Some people text their partners about cool clouds they see. Others maybe mention that they slept really well or had a really satisfying bowel movement if they’re really comfortable with each other. But no, you’re his worst nightmare; you love popping zits, and have texted him more than once saying “i popped a zit :].”

Some might think it’s cute, but he thinks it’s horrifying. The chance for infection and scarring alone is reason to not touch them, but the pain of the process is just too much for him as well. Then again, this one just aches so much. He can’t even touch it without flinching. Maybe he should just let you do it? You look so cute when you’re this excited, even if you also look a touch unhinged.

“Alright. Fine. But you’re wearing a mask too, and putting a little ointment on it after too. With—" He grabs your hand before you gleefully retreat to get your supplies. “Let me finish! Ointment goes on with a clean q-tip, okay?”

“Fine, whatever! I’ll bring the whole pack!”

You’re gone for seconds, coming back laden with boxes of the requires supplies.

“The finest of nitrile gloves, for the finest of faces, my liege,” you say haughtily. “And only the finest of q-tips. The softest cotton of dubious origin, for you and only you.”

You realize too late that you’ve put the gloves on before you put on the spare surgical mask, and you look at him with a pout. Already he found your sarcasm annoyingly cute, but now it’s cutely irritating to watch as you look between him and the mask on the table next to you.

“Fine, you weirdo, hold still and I’ll put it on for you,” he chuckles, trying to seem put out. Some part of him is enjoying this, he thinks, but it’s the part of him that likes teasing you without mercy. To be fair, that’s a very big part of him, so in a way, this is just another day for the two of you.

As soon as the mask is hooked around your ears, you close your eyes and take a deep breath. “Alright, focus. Zit-popping time.”

“Please be gentle with me, doctor,” Tae teases, but the light leaves his eyes when he realizes the moment is rapidly approaching.

“Fear not, my darling, it’ll all be over soon.” You place the ends of your q-tips on either side of the angry, engorged whitehead. “Any last words for your friend?”

“I hardly got to know you, Byeol. I’m sorry we didn’t have more time,” he says softly. You almost believe he’s sad, which feels very strange considering that, well, it’s a throbbing monstrosity of a pimple and not actually a dear friend.

“Is this the part where I start reciting that one poem from Interstellar?”

“BABE JUST POP THE FUCKING THING.”

It happens almost in slow motion, but you do it with such prowess that you feel the tiny pop with each of your five senses, every synapse firing at full speed. As the little dermatological volcano finally blows, you feel your mouth water with sweet, sweet release.

“Ow.” And of course, your partner has to ruin it immediately by like, feeling pain or whatever.

You press a little more, making sure to clear out any of remaining pus without making the blemish bleed, then clean the area gently with a fresh swab. Finally, you go in with some healing ointment, just to help protect everything. After the initial pop, Tae suffers in silence.

“How does it feel, babe?”

“Better,” he grumbles. “Satisfied?”

“It’s almost better than an orgasm, like I can’t even lie about it.”

“You’re so gross.”

“Yeah, but I’m your gross.”

Thank you for reading! Drop me an ask and tell me what you think. Find me in various places at my carrd :)

©miscelunaaa 2022. My work is only found on this blog and under my ao3 pseud. Do not, under any circumstances, copy or repost my work.Thank you.

posted: 6.6.2022

#btshoneyhive #taehyung fic #taehyung fanfic #taehyung fanfiction #taehyung x reader #kth fic #kth fan fic #kth x reader #gender neutral reader #idk what to tag this if I'm being honest #um #kth fluff #a zit was definitely harmed in the making of this fic

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