#im sinking in my sorrow lmao

[whump-a-la-mode]

Hi! Can I ask for a continuation to the supervillain finds drugged and terrified villain on doorstep? Maybe (idk where you’d wanna take it but ig this is just a suggestion) sorta fluff but the villain is terrified of supervillain? Idk where im getting at lmao just write what you wanna write and have fun with it :)

Of course! Thank you both for the asks. I loved that prompt and found it really cute. This one has about the same balance of fluff and angst as the first part, so I really hope you enjoy!

Continued from here.

CW//Medical mentions, past trauma, past drowning, past torture, injuries, food

The medics had left far too quickly.

At least, that was Supervillain's impression of the situation. Only perhaps half an hour after they had been called, their medical team had arrived in full force. Upon the injured villain they had swarmed like flies, with stethoscopes and thermometers and tools that their boss had no clue at all how to identify.

And then, they were gone. The leader of the team made a full report on Villain's injuries, and the care that they would require. Strangulation wounds, malnutrition, half-healed frostbite, and, of course, the beginnings of hypothermia had all stricken the heroes' victim.

But, so the leader had stated, none of these afflictions would require hospitalization. In fact, hospitalization would have likely produced a more negative outcome. With weakened lungs, on account of repeated and merciless strangulation attempts, even the most common of hospital-borne respiratory illnesses could send them to the grave. After all, the whole purpose of a hospital was for it to be full of sick people.

That was all that they had said, before piling up into their emergency response vehicle and leaving the premises.

Leaving Supervillain alone with nothing but a page of written instructions, and a half-dead Villain upon their couch.

Would it have been simple to pass the job onto a henchman? Or even better, a villain with genuine medical knowledge? Perhaps. But every last villain had scrambled off into hiding, and as smart as their henchmen were, this was not their responsibility.

It was the responsibility of a leader to take care of their sick.

And that was exactly how Supervillain had ended up in their kitchen, gingerly spreading butter of two pieces of steaming toast. Though the scent of freshly-toasted bread was nearly irresistible, the food was not for them. The whole situation had left them far too nauseous to even consider food.

But Villain was starving.

Placing down the knife into their sink with a clatter, Supervillain took the plate in one hand, and a topped-off glass of water in the other. They had taken the liberty of warming it-- though a cool glass of water may have been a mercy to some, to the pyrokinetic, it would have, in the best case scenario, caused discomfort. In the worst... Well, they didn't know.

After all, they weren't a doctor.

But, doctor or not, public enemy number one still moved gingerly across their kitchen floor, through the hallways, and all the way to the room where their new, accidental, ward had been settled. So it seemed, the medical examination they had been through had drained whatever energy that Villain had had remaining, seeing as afterwards they had immediately passed out upon the couch. Given that Supervillain was far from the kind of host to allow their guest to sleep on the couch, they had-- gently, of course-- carried them to one of the home's many spare room, and settled them upon a bed.

When Supervillain had left the room, Villain had been neatly tucked beneath the covers, snoring peacefully, if not a little shallowly.

Now, when they entered, toast and water in hand, the bed was empty. Instead, the sheets lay bare, blanket torn away.

They soon discovered why. As slight as the movement was, it was not difficult to tell that the blanket laid in a corner was breathing. The slightest flutter of sympathy danced within their chest-- why was their ward hiding?

"Villain?" They did their very best to make their voice quiet, hospitable, even though they were neither of those things. "I brought food. Are you hungry?"

There was no reply.

Supervillain realized in that moment that, throughout Villain's entire, brief, stay in the home, they had yet to speak a single word. Come to think of it, actually, they had hardly even been awake earlier. Though the medics hadn't believed a blood test to be necessary, the effects of heavy sedation were rather obvious.

This was the first time that Villain was awake, and they had awoken alone. Dammit.

With a soft clack, they set the plate and the glass upon a bedside table, moving towards the shuddering blanket in the corner. The combination of wool socks and carpeted floor made their footsteps almost silent, leaving the room quiet as they knelt down before the blanket. Up close, it was rather simple to see the form of the villain that had hidden themself beneath it.

As much as they would have liked to leave Villain alone and to their own devices, according to the doctor's words, 'they won't be able to survive on their own for a while.' They would need a caretaker, and, through chance alone, Supervillain had wound up in that role.

They grabbed the bottom of the blanket first, about where Villain's feet would be, and gently began to drag it off of their form. As soon as their head was uncovered, they stopped, leaving the fleece to protect the rest of their body.

Anyone could tell that Villain had been crying, sobbing, even. Half of their face was covered in dried tears, cheeks red and eye whites a similar color. As soon as their face was revealed, they struggled to cover it with their hands, revealing the shivering in their limbs.

"Hey, hey." Supervillain reached a hand slowly forth, but stopped short of actually laying it upon Villain, believing that that likely wouldn't aid in their terrified state. "You're okay. I know you're scared, I know. But you escaped. You... You can tell me how you did that later. But you're safe, now. You're in my house.

It's me. It's Supervillain."

That only served to send another wave of terrified shivering through their body, as though they had been struck by a cane.

"If you don't want to talk, I won't make you, okay? But you're hurt. Will you at least drink some water?"

It was as though an emotional grenade had gone off.

In an instant, Villain curled in on themself, burying their face in their knees and curling almost to a fetal position.

"No no no no please no- Please, no. Please let me breathe please I'll behave please not the water please please please no no no."

Supervillain stopped, and noted with a start something they had not made much notice of beforehand: When Villain first arrived, their upper body had been soaking wet.

Someone had tried to drown them.

"Villain." They struggled not to allow their to crack, but fury and sorrow combined were making that a nearly impossible task. "No one is going to hurt you. No one is going to hurt you ever again, okay?"

From the tear-stained blanket, Villain lifted their head, shaking, pinprick pupils staring up at them.

"T-Then." They sniffled. "Then why are you here?"

#villain whumpee #supervillain caretaker #hero whumper #whumpblr #whump community #whump writing #whump scenario #hero villain whump #hero x villain #hero villain prompt #hero villain writing

[junova]

↬ 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞 | 𝐫. 𝐝𝐫𝐲𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐥𝐞

abstract — the one where ransom gets a taste of his own medicine, but you happen to be so much sweeter than he’s ever been. 

pairing — ooc!ransom drysdale x fem!reader 

wc — 4.1k+  im so sorry lmao 

warnings — cheating (if u squint its very vague), angst, fluff, slight self deprecation, ransom is kinda nice idk, i want a soft!ransom drysdale now pls, this is also very messy so read at ur own risk!

[m blabs] — howdy howdy! first time ransom fic. woot woot! still kinda finding my voice w writing so i hope you like it! <333 

His mouth set in a hard line as you continued to curl into his chest, the span of your confidence seemed to be wiped away with a nightmare from the past. Part of him was upset you hadn’t told him anything, the blind leading the blind, as you stepped foot into his family event. Seeing the last person you’d ever thought would be there. 

Surely by now, he thought you would trust him but it was more than evident you still didn’t. You persisted on hiding everything from him, anything you were sure might tick him off. 

Well, Ransom wasn’t necessarily known for biting his tongue.  Although, in your presence, he was learning what to say and where to say it. 

It really surprised him. Not one woman had been able to tame him, not since he’d be fucking everyone in sight. His desire was endless and not one single individual would be enough for his fill. 

Then, he found you drunk and sobbing on the concrete, right outside of the bar he was exiting. To this day, he still couldn’t tell you why he stopped for you. He never really paid attention to anyone if it wasn’t to his own benefit. Ultimately, meeting you was, even if he wouldn’t realize it then. 

You flinched from his touch when he patted your shoulder, gently asking if you were alright. If anyone asked him, Ransom would surely deny he felt you pull at the strings of his heart in an instant. 

He just knew. 

Maybe it’s why it took him so long to accept it, to believe in what he felt for you. Definitely not because you did nothing but be the most wonderful human he’d ever met. More had to do with him. 

Ransom dropped you off the first night you met in your small apartment downtown, definitely on the rougher side where he thought his Rolex sporting his wrist may get stolen. 

A cute little thing like you living in a neighborhood like this — didn’t make much sense to him. Then again, it certainly checked out with his privilege why he didn’t. 

Truly, Ransom didn’t realize how fortunate he truly was. Of course being a trust fund brat gave him the ignorance to live in an unmatched state of bliss. 

He still remembers the moment. 

Watching as you fumbled with your keys, finding it more than difficult to open your front door. It was cute, with your tongue poking out between your lips in concentration. Now, he wondered how he’d forgotten why he’d gone to get hammered at the bar in the first place. 

“Here, let me help.” New to Ransom, he offered a giving hand. Grabbing the key from your jittering fingertips before unlocking your door. He tried to hand you back your keys, but you pulled him so close, your chest touching his own. Dragging two rapid hearts through your apartment. 

“You smell like him.” A dopey smile on your face lighting every dark sight of Ransom, not that you’d know it did. “I smell like who?” 

“My ex-boyfriend.” Your hands cupping his cheek, but you were too drunk to realize how Ransom flinched from your touch. 

He didn’t push you away either. 

“But he definitely didn’t look this good.” Defying all laws of his own nature, Ransom let you stay in close proximity to him as you felt him up. Your hand resting on his chest, traveling lower stopping at his stomach. “Definitely didn’t feel this good.” 

He watched as you sighed, your puffy eyes were only slightly swollen and the mascara was still staining your skin with the rest of the makeup you wore. If anyone had asked him, you’d looked like a wreck but he still found you alluring. 

Ransom always liked his women looking more than fucked out, usually from gagging around his cock. Not crying over a broken heart. Nope. He definitely did not like dealing with a woman's sorrow. 

“He never let me touch him though. Guess that should have tipped me off.” You let your hands travel back up, wounding themselves around his neck before they applied more pressure — pulling him into you. 

Ransom found you pretty confident for not even knowing anything more than his first name and the car he drove you in. You were definitely craving attention and maybe he’d be more than happy to oblige but the little voice in his head Dr. Shoal told him to listen to was being a pestering, little bitch. 

What did Ransom want? 

Right now he wanted to drown himself in some sweet ass pussy. He knew you would give yourself easily to him, especially in your drunken state. Clinging onto him like he was a vine. 

The smaller part of him, the better part, knew you were drunk out of your mind. Absolutely plastered, but you had to stand there looking like a goddess. 

He didn’t really know why he was letting you touch him, maybe in hopes the deeper, darker side of him would win like it always did. Ransom knew better, even if he tried to hide it from everyone including himself. 

He liked you. From the very first moment, he knew he’d have to get you. Whether it cost your own sanity or his, Ransom didn’t care. 

It’s why he left you drunk and alone, safely tucked into the comfort of your sheets with his number left in your phone. Even taking the liberty of texting himself from it. 

He could never be too careful. Letting you slip through his fingers was simply not an option. 

Thanks to him, you didn’t forget about him. 

The next morning your memory only held vague images of a handsome stranger helping you home, thankfully he seemed to be nothing more than a doting gentlemen. The first for you to ever come across. 

Until later in the afternoon the following day, Ransom introduced himself and checked up on you, worming his presence into your life. 

Then he kept talking to you everyday, surprising even himself in the matter. Truly, he couldn’t help it. Part of him loved how gently you spoke to him on the phone. No one ever talked to him with such a level of care. 

He always warranted yelling, usually he was the one who stirred the pot. He enjoyed it, and thrived in a chaotic environment. It’s what he grew up in. Ransom was more than comfortable with his own family yelling and cursing him out until the sun came up. He did just the same. 

So, whenever you sweetly asked him how he was, it threw him off guard. 

Not a single soul even cared or bothered to ask him anything. Truth be told, Ransom was a sack of shit treating everyone like they were the gum beneath his shoe. It didn’t matter who talked to him — Ransom was simply more superior in every conceivable way. 

He would succumb to not a single soul. Paving his own way through life, with only the money from his trust fund of course. 

Then the two of you fell into each other and he could pinpoint the exact moment he did. 

The weeks and months blended together. He couldn’t really tell you why he was still lingering around, while he got nothing in return. You did get him off once or twice, but he wasn’t fucking you like he really wanted to. 

Maybe it was the innocence in your eyes pulling his soul into the very little good he still had left within him. Or maybe it was the way your thumb dragged over his cheek when you thought he was in slumber, blissfully unaware of your touch. 

More importantly his favorite thing, the way you let him hold you when the two of you cuddled. Your arms wrapped tightly around his waist, bouncy cheeks pressed into whatever knit sweater he decided to wear that day. 

It was all the little things, unknowingly making him fall in deep like he never had before. 

Unwelcoming to him, his mother came barreling in one Sunday afternoon, while you slept in his arms. Even as Linda screamed his name, you never jolted, out like a log. Safe in the peace he kept you in. 

Linda looked annoyed, irritated he even had company in the first place but not surprised. What truly shocked her was they both had clothes on.  Not truly believing Ransom was capable of such a sinless interaction. 

He knew what she wanted; he didn’t even have to move from his position to continue a private conversation. Not that it would get him off the couch, and out of your embrace in the first place. 

“I said no. Don’t know why you bothered coming here.” Linda angrily sighed. “You should at least show up.” 

Ransom didn’t notice, but subconsciously continued to run his fingertips up and down your spine. Linda did. She noticed that he didn’t even care she was judging him, but let you remain unbothered sleeping in her son’s embrace. 

“It’s for Walt. You need to be there.” She stepped closer, hoping the increase in her volume would wake you. “I expect you to grace us with your wonderful presence as does the rest of the family.” 

The sarcasm dripped, attempting to coax him out of the four walls he never seemed to leave. Not recently, anyhow. 

“I already told you, I can’t.” Now Ransom was irritated and he really wished she would calm the fuck down. It was one day, one event. There would always be another, that much wasn’t lost on him. “I have plans. Send him my best.” 

Assuming it was the rumbling of his chest when he spoke, you moved jolting yourself in his arms, before remaining still again. His heartbeat continues to soothe you. 

“You have plans? What else could be more important than your family?” The louder Linda’s voice grew the more you stirred, pissing him off. 

He really needed to change his locks. 

Even if he had no intention of going, he needed his mother to leave. Really for your own sake — trying to save you from Linda giving you a cold shoulder followed with a third degree burn. 

“Fine. I’ll go. Can you just leave?” She accepted Ransom’s submission, before looking at your figure. Sound asleep and clinging to her one and only, sinking your claws into him. 

She really didn’t like the way Ransom was looking at you. Linda was positive he would never be able to care about someone other than himself, but here he was, holding you close to his chest. 

Almost like his life depended on it. 

“Who is she to you?” With a raised eyebrow, eyes narrowing to you before meeting back with Ransom’s cerulean blues. 

“I don’t know yet.” Ransom paused looking down at you, so beautiful. Holding a light so pure, so radiant; he hoped no matter how cruel he could be, he’d never act like that towards you. “Maybe someone I don’t deserve, but want to be better for.” 

His rough, calloused fingers drawing mindless patterns on the exposed skin of your waist. He didn’t know what Linda said next or when she left. 

Time seemed to stand still, his confession hitting his chest fiercely. He let himself sit with it for a moment, before you woke up. Enjoying a moment where he didn’t have to deal with anything, he didn’t have to say a word. 

He could just enjoy the moment without eyes judging him or you questioning why his eyes seemed to shine just a bit brighter whenever you were around. 

It was the first of many. Moments where he felt small pieces of himself chipped away into your care. Planes of existences within him no one had ever scratched the surface of. 

Much like right now as you cried into his chest, begging for mercy. 

Because you were afraid. Terrified you had made the worst mistake, an unforgivable one. You lied about your past and to Ransom it felt like more than a betrayal. More accurately he felt a dagger in his heart placed strategically with your murderous hands. 

He’d never felt such empathy and pain at once. Maybe he’d never been empathetic a day in his life at all. 

Until now. 

To make matters worse, he knew his entire family was watching the whole scene from the window. It wasn’t from worry or concern for either one of you. Mainly all of them enjoying pain being inflicted on Ransom. 

Linda of course wallowing in her ego, he could practically see her bask in her own pride. Another thing she’d been right about checked off the list. 

The rest of the family watched the two of you fight with shiteating grins permanently stamped on their face. They’d never seen Ransom care about anyone but you. To watch the relationship he held so close to his heart blow up so publicly, only fueled the fire to Ransom’s rage. 

Except Harlan. 

Even through his hot, beating anger Ransom was trying his best to comfort you. To calm you down even if you had been the one to be caught red handed. Harlan couldn’t believe it, someone Ransom seemed to care about more than himself. 

More than any of his family. Not that Harlan was offended. Well, maybe a little, but more so he was thrilled his grandson finally found someone he had to grow up for. Someone he had to earn, not buy. 

No bribes. No schemes. No games. 

Just you. 

“Hugh, please talk to me.” How could he? It’s not like he had much to say. Maybe he did, he just wasn’t sure how to get the words out without hurting you or himself. 

“I know I lied and I fucked up, but please — we need to talk about it.” Soft hands reaching for his own, but he brushed them off, his hands snaked higher on your waist. “We should have talked about this the moment you met me.” 

Dead silence is all you were met with as he walked the fine line of pushing you away, leaving you behind and pulling you closer than he ever had. 

“You’re right. I should have told you the truth but can you blame me?” He met you with solemn eyes and his own heart beating rapidly. “Yes I can.” Ransom was trying to act cold and distant but the two windows to his soul told a different story. 

“That’s fair.” Even as he was holding you, Ransom still felt like he was a galaxy away. He was withholding himself from you like a turtle retracting into their own protection. A year ago, before he met you, he knew he would have never even recognized it. 

Now, you made it possible for him to be aware of just how much he had changed. He broke old habits of his own just to please you so when you disappointed him, this unreachable high standard he held you to, it shattered his sense of self. 

“Did you still love him?” Ransom questioned you. “I did. At the time, he’s all I ever really knew. I thought that’s what love felt like. The only image of love I had was the one he gave me. So, I ran with him and it crushed me.” 

Ransom had to pretend the words you were speaking didn’t split him into you two. The image of you falling in love with someone else was enough to make him wanna strangle your ex. 

His friend. 

“Then we just got into one really big blow out. Right in the bar in front of all of his friends I had met for the first time that night.” You reached for a chunk of his sweater, clenching the material in your hand, like you were trying to convince yourself to let the words fall from your mouth. 

“He told me how much I’d been irritating him and I couldn’t help but notice every girl he flirted with and touched right in front of me.” You tested the waters, placing both of your hands over his chest, the beat of his heart calming you down. 

“Then I just cracked. It was only one of the many fights we’d been having over the course of the past few months. Everyone single argument pushed me closer to the edge, until the last one actually did.” You sighed, watching as he frowned. 

“I ended things that night, before getting thoroughly plastered and soon enough crying on the cement. Wasted and lonely out of my mind, until I met you.” You moved your hand from his heart, cupping his clean shaven face. 

“You made me realize I never knew what love really meant or felt like.” This piqued Ransom’s interest. 

You said love. 

Could a tragedy bring out the words Ransom craved to hear more than anything in the world? 

Maybe you cared about him, more than anyone ever showed him. But loved him? How could someone be as hateful as him be worthy of someone like you? 

Even if you had broken his heart, he’d done far worse to more people than he could count. He wasn’t really in a place to judge but it didn’t change the fact it still hurt. A lot. 

“Hugh.” You heard him gulp rather loudly. “Yes?” His tone came out as more of a question than a response. 

The silence he gifted you was unsettling at the very least. “You've barely said a word.” He was surprised he didn’t scurry off in his beamer the second he saw the guilt reach your eyes. 

He was surprised he hadn’t let his anger take over and let the rage he felt inside body take it all out on you. 

He was surprised he somehow couldn’t inflict a single hateful word towards you, even as you sat with his heart in your hands. 

In pure bliss of just how much you owned him. 

“I hate it. This fucking corner you’ve back me into. Not to mention for the prying eyes of my entire family to watch the show.” The sharp tone he uses sensoring you. “You used me just to get back at him.” 

“Like I was some pawn in your game and I really even shouldn’t be mad.” He paused, trying to choose his words as carefully as he can. “I’ve done the same thing to so many different women. Used them and threw them out at my earliest inconvenience.” To your surprise, even Ransom’s, a single tear left his eye showing you how much you really meant to him. 

You hated yourself for letting it get to this point. 

“But you? I could never even think about hurting you. I could never live with myself if I treated you like everyone else because you’re so much more than that to me.” The tears continued to roll. The dame Ransom kept shut his entire life, opened because of you and he just wanted to make it stop. 

He would give anything — even you. 

He just wanted to not feel like a piece of shit for once in his life. For a moment, he thought he might have a chance to be something more than the picture he portrayed in everyone’s mind. You showed him maybe it was more complex than it seemed. 

“I just assumed I was that for you.” You sighed in frustration, softly wiping his tears away. “You are, though. You are more than that.” 

“Then how could you be so okay with lying to me?” The crease between his eyebrows only created more of an indention as he felt the anger trying to escape out of him. 

You let the tension get to you first. 

“Because I-I was scared if I told you the truth, you’d never tell me.” You puzzled him once again. You softly reach up between his furrowed eyebrows, the pad of your thumb smoothing it out. 

“Tell you what?” His mind was clouded with the possibilities of what he could have missed. 

“I can’t spell this one out for you.” You were tired of being the one to do everything first. Even if your intentions weren’t free from fault once you realized who he was, your feelings for him were anything but. 

“I don’t know what you want from me. You only let me fall for you because you knew how much it would hurt him.” He bit back, growing impatient and tired. “Any other time, I would have cared. Probably would have been more than happy to assist. But you made me-” 

Then Ransom cut himself off, jumping out of the swing and away from you. 

“I’m sorry. I can’t do this. I thought I could.” He literally sprinted to his beamer, but you chased him. 

You were hell bent and just as crazy as he was. Maybe it’s why it worked for as long as it did. 

“Hugh! Get back here.” You were running, thankful you’d gone for a more casual outfit today, the sneakers supporting your feet far better than the heels you’d usually wear. 

Maybe if it was someone with a normal childhood upbringing you would have just cut your losses but this was someone who chose to be called Ransom. 

This was someone who chose to run away from love and care because the only affectionate way he knew how to treat someone was to throw money at them. 

This was someone who had the communication of a ten year old because that’s when his own mother didn’t bother to mess with him anymore before sending him off to boarding school. 

This was someone who didn’t know how to love — and to be loved. 

By the time you caught up to him his was digging for his keys, but he couldn’t fucking find them. 

“Hugh Ransom Drysdale.” Your tone was sharp and he knew you meant business. “For once in your life, stop running away.” 

“Why not? What good has it ever done for me to stay?” His back was facing you, his broad shoulders stilled with the rest of his body. Almost like he was ashamed of what he was hiding. 

“I can’t speak for everyone else. I can’t speak for your mother or for Richard. For Harlan or for anyone else you thought might abandon you and really did.” You inched you way closer until you knew he felt how close you were to him.

“I can only speak for me.” Giving yourself, the final piece of you to a man who might run away from it. 

You were so close he felt your breath on his back, and it made him tremble. He was shaking, terrified of it all. You didn’t let him be for long. 

Intertwining your fingers with his, as he kept them at his sides, rubbing your thumb along the palm of his hand. 

“I’m sorry for the way I hurt you. Lied to you. You never deserved it. Never.” You thought it would be easier if he didn’t have to look at you while pouring your heart out to him. A theory proved to be right as he gave your hand a squeeze. 

“You’ve done nothing but treat me like a princess. You’ve done right by me, more than anyone else I’ve ever met in my life. It made me feel inadequate. My dark secret, always looming over us like a dark cloud of my own personal doing.” 

“I’m sorry I haven’t done the proper thing by us and made you feel like I used you. You had every right to feel it because I did.” You took a deep breath, mustering up the courage to face whatever the future held for the two of you. 

“I never expected to fall in love with a trust fund, playboy brat.” You felt him take a deep breath, like a breath he’d be holding all his life could finally be set free. 

“I love you, Hugh.” The next thing you knew he had you pushed up against the car, lips hungrily attacking your own. 

All forgiven because you love him. You actually were in love with him. 

He couldn’t fathom it really because you’d been the first. To accept him just as he was. The first to refuse to call him Ransom because you like the way Hugh rolled off your tongue better. 

You liked how he felt on your tongue, too. 

The first to tell him Fran and Marta should call him Hugh because you wanted to be the only one who got to. The first woman to cook for him, willingly and not attached to the Thrombey payroll. 

The first woman he had ever fallen in love with. 

The first one he’d stick around and not run away for. 

So, he kissed you. Hard. Softly whispering how much he loved you into the kiss, because maybe he wasn’t ready to say it outright. Loud and proud. 

Yet, he felt it with every bone of his body — no longer lost in the blues.

taglist: @tonystankschild @parkastoria @tinylumpiaa @brattycherubwrites

#im so anxious to post this #bc i dont really love it but....... #here we go folks. #i rewrote it too many times sksksk 💀 #not doing it again #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale smut #ransom drysdale fluff #ransom drysdale fic #ransom drysdale one shot #ransom drysdale fanfiction #chris evans #chris evans x reader #m.writes

[inosukeslefttoe]

so,,, yesterday i read this manhwa called “the horizon” (i forget the author but ill put them in the tags) and good god... it was so heartbreakingly beautiful and im gonna make a few posts about it B) ((i say a few bc theres a few things i wanna talk about but i dont wanna make it all unorganized ?? if that makes sense))

first theres just the amazing artwork done in this piece... the range is just fucking incredible and every single panel had so much work and heart put into it and i had to sit there just to really admire the art of each page for a long time (usually im an impatient little bitch and skim artwork in manga/manhwa but damn this one was something else). but like !! look at how many different styles and shit the artist did depending on the circumstances !! 

oh if i didnt mention,, this manhwa is like an apocalyptic world where this little boy meets a little girl and they just sort of roam the world together right... but they come across so many terrible things and theres this back and forth between hope and despair and everytime you start to be like “hey maybe things will be good for them, or at least as good as they can be” the tiniest thing happens that just shatters all that hope to the ground and suddenly everything is lost again. it really reminds me of this book i read for english called the road by uh.. something mccarthy i think... and it was about a boy and his dad trying to survive and walk down a road together in a post apocalyptic world and it was also sad as shit. BUT IM GETTING OFF TOPIC. BACK TO THE ARTWORK.

so thE RANGE OF STYLES YES THATS WHAT IM TALKING ABOUT. as i already said, its just this whole rollercoaster of emotions but it really forces you to sit there and fucking f e e l your emotions yknow? it makes it impossible to just sit there and be like “lol damn thats sad” ,, the art and the layout are so shocking and stunning that you h a v e to sit there and admire them and think about the events and really just feel every ounce of emotion and loss that the characters are going through and that the artist put into this piece. it did this thing where it would sometimes stretch on for a few pages of just the same frame with tiny differences just taking up the whole page without any words/little words to let the magnitude of the situation sink in and envelope you. its so powerful with its message especially with the themes of hope and loss and it just... usually i keep pop culture/anime/manhwa feels separate from my irl feels but... dude this one was so fuckin amazing that i genuinely had to take a break a few times bc the feels were getting all mixed up and i genuinely felt that sorrow that the characters were feeling. i seriously wanna read this again actually so i focus more on the amazing art since i know the story already.

i just love how much it switches up from all the different looks too. sometimes it would have that classic anime/manhwa feel to it especially when there were lots of characters (i didnt include a sc for that oops) but a lot of the time it would focus on the beauty/emptiness of the landscape around the characters since there wasnt really much left in the world. there were a lot of gruesome scenes drawn in that sort of chalky/charcoaly look that involved death and i am just obsessed with how they made it look so organic and like it was actually, yknow decomposing. they also used a really messy scribbly style when super chaotically terrible things where happening, both externally and internally which was such a perfect reflection of those bundled up negative and hopeless emotions that were present throughout the story. it sort of made it seem like those things were simply too horrible to be drawn fully and even the artist couldnt subject the reader to such a terrible sight. also ... the use of color... usually they would use color to represent the presence of hope and damn dude it really worked... especially after seeing some of these same images consecutively and that dramatic change really makes the reader feel so much brighter and happier when hope is back in the story !! although that one other colored scene... where the boy is in the ocean... god that hurts my heart so badly... i think the color was used in that case to show the reality of his situation and that it was really r e a l yknow ??? it wasnt just a comic written to make ppl sad and thinking about death,, this is that kids whole LIFE and he had to accept the (bad thing that happened but im not gonna write it bc i dont wanna spoil) was something that happened and now he really had no reason to keep on living... and all these feelings are so wonderfully portrayed and definitely did a very good job of making me, the reader, Very Sad. 

HAHA I DIDNT WANT THIS TO BE TOO LONG BUT I RAMBLED LMAO... ill prolly make one or two more posts about this but they wont nearly be as long dont worry

1-6-21

#the horizon #jeong jihoon #the horizon jeong jihoon #manga analysis #manhwa analysis #manhwa recommendation #the road cormac mccarthy #beautiful manhwa

[gaetoeinhaler]

𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐡𝐢𝐦?

|| hanahaki disease series : Lucifer ||

obey me masterlist

thought i’d do this, because angst ✨

ew ignore my ugly ass art lmao. im trying to improve it, if you have any tips or criticism, please lmk! <3 my art is at the end of the oneshot, btw!

dark themes, mentions of death, explicit gore, death

_______________________

he hated it. he hated looking. he hated seeing your expression, how happy it looked. how your eyes would shine bright. he hated how you looked at the one demon he was most intimated by.

diavolo. he hated it all, knowing how your relationship with the prince would end. how it would play out. he knew diavolo only needed someone to continue the heir. to breed someone and leave them.

diavolo was like a wolf in sheep’s clothing. innocent, playing the role of a childish, silly, prince. only to attract his prey. to claim them as his, tell them his little lies he has to spare, before going savage. using them, only for them to end up broken in the end, to no repair. maybe even dead, if he wanted to take it that far.

and lucifer hated that you fell into diavolo’s trap. he had tried to prevent you from doing so. warning you constantly to be careful, here in devildom. about the demons that want nothing but to hurt you. by demons, it may seem like he meant the lower level demons. but, he was really talking about diavolo.

he turned his head away, not wanting to see what would happen next with the two of you. he knew that you’d end up kissing. though, he didnt want to see it. he didn’t think his heart could handle the ache and hurt it’d hold from watching a small kiss.

he turned on his heel, deciding to tell diavolo about the finished papers later, at their meeting. he swallowed his spit, unaware of how much had been on his tongue. he let out a deep breathe, trying his best to pull himself together. to not let his emotions get the best of him.

at the moment, he wanted nothing but to go home. back to the house of lamentation. to his room. and cry. cry and cry, nonstop. until he felt satisfied. though, he knew he wouldn’t feel satisfied ever. knowing you were in the hands of diavolo.

his chest tightened, feeling the flowers grow more and more. filling within his lungs.

he wanted to get home, fast. he didnt want to be seen as vulnerable and miserable, especially in public for demons’ eyes to see. to see how pathetic he’d look.

upon arriving at the dorm, he ignored what asmo had to say. instead, he pushed past his brother, and started making his way to his room, much to asmodeus’ disliking.

the younger brother knew something was up, but he’d neve guess it would be the fact that you and diavolo were together.

lucifer, arriving at his room, he went inside and locked the door. he could feel the hot, salty tears run down his face. he kept it all in, until now. his chest grew heavy. lungs filling faster with flowers, the need and want to cough it all out. to stick his gloved hand down his throat and pull out the handfulls of petals, and possible fully grown flowers, out.

he hated the ache in his heart. the feeling of heartbreak, betrayal. he felt something special, with you. he felt love. trust. he felt as if he could let his guard down with you around, and only you. but, he felt more sad. it was a feeling similar to his fall. lilith, his dying sister locked and encased in his arms as he listened to her uneven breathing.

he felt an immense amount of pain, sorrow, grief, loss. as if a piece of him was long gone. he felt that way, until you showed up in his life. he felt completed, at whole, when he was with you. but, he felt more pain this time. this time, he watched as the one he loved most in this wicked, unforgiving world, fall out of his hands and into diavolo’s.

his eyes started to sting, feeling more and more tears fall down his face. he hated this feeling. he hated that he got to the best of him, letting himself even think about trusting you. but, he hated that he just let you slip through his hand. he’d be happy if you were with someone else. someone that wasn’t diavolo. even if it wasn’t him, and one of the angels, or solomon, or one of his brothers. just, anyone but diavolo.

he let a few sobs fall from his lips, gasps for air as he feels the petals fill in his lungs. as if they were ready to explode any second, within his body and grow throughout the rest of his body.

trying to get up from the floor, he stumbled over towards his bathroom. turning the light on and rushing towards the sink, he started to cough harshly. blood spilled from out of his mouth, staining the glass sink with thick, red splatters. white petals accustomed the dark color, adding a sense of light to it. though, the petals were stained with blood.

he could feel the vines and stems, puncturing his lungs. he felt the need to scream, to stress how much pain he was feeling. and at the same time, he wanted to stay quiet. he didnt want his brothers to know how miserable he was.

the pain never ceased. growing more and more, as the stems and vines spread throughout his body. his limbs started to feel weak. out of the corner of his eye, he could witness the skin on his wrist start to turn white. soon, a stem popped out, blood squirting out from his injury. he bit his lip, tears pooling out of his eyes from the pain.

white flower petals started to bloom from the stem, a few falling off in the process. as he watched the flower grow, he could feel a stinging sensation in his leg. a stem broke through the fabric of his pants, another flower growing.

the more he stared at his body, flowers blooming as stems punctured his skin, staining it and the flowers with nothing but red. his lungs were loosing air, the flowers growing faster and piling up in his organs.

through all the pain, he could only think of you. your smile, your laugh, the shine in your eyes you used to have when he talked to you. even if it was a simple ‘greetings’. he ignored the pain, his heart aching more as he imagined the kiss between you and diavolo play throughout his mind, over and over. constant and nonstop.

he wondered. what did he do to loose that shine in your eyes? to see how much you cared for him with your small gestures, and questions.

he wished, he could gain barbatos’ power. going back in the past and seeing what he did wrong so he could fix it. so he wouldn’t end up like this. so you wouldn’t be in the hands of a bad life.

the last thing on his mind, before his vision started to fade away as his heartbeat started to stop, was your sweet, innocent smile.

#obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me diavolo #obey me angst #lucifer #diavolo #angst #hanahaki disease

[sloppy-butcher]

I saw your requests were open,if not I’m sorry :,). But can I get some hcs with Frank,Dwight (Jake and/or Quentin) with a s/o who’s a short curvier artist and is just insecure about themselves and their work? I’m just in sad boy hours rn lmao

please don’t ever feel sorry about sending in an ask

Sorry, it took as long, I can’t help with how much I write. Hopefully, this will help alleviate some of them sad boy hours. I’m going to assume that by “artist” you mean drawing and not like music soooo also im going to assume its a survivor S/O

i love you anon, thank you for the ask and sorry again for the wait

sad boy hours is offically declared OVER

HeadCanons with a short, insecure Artist S/O

The Legion (Frank Morrison)

Frank, in all honesty, doesn’t give a flying crap about how you look. To him, if you can make him laugh or you amuse him in the slightest, he already likes you. The only looks or appearances he does care about are his own, he’s gotta look badass 24/7, no exceptions. But he does like that you are shorter than him (not a lot of people are so you are a rarity). He likes to tease you and put his elbow on your shoulder or head.

“I need my walking stick.” His eyes would trail over to you. Cue you trying to walk around with the boy hanging onto you, grumbling like an old man. You contrasted him exactly to the T

Frank is absolutely fascinated by your artistic abilities. You have a real talent and he enjoys both watching your process and seeing the finished project. Talent like yours was hard to come by, he sort of envied you for it. If only he had that kind of something that made him special that would have made those foster parents interested in him. But that time for developing uniqueness has passed and now, all he has is you.

You shared your talent with him and he felt extremely special when you would ask him what to sketch next. Frank would pull Suzie over and set her up in a position he imagines to be cool. He would pause, inspect Suzie’s bad form then huff and begin to rearrange her limbs until she was just right. “That's nice.” He’d comment over your shoulder. You’d tell him you didn't like being watched like that while you work and he’d sigh and reluctantly shuffle away. Not even 5 minutes later he would be back standing over you. You would just have to deal with him. He wasn’t judging you or your skills rather he just wanted to watch and marvel at how easy you made it look.

“Okay, now give her a huge dick.” Both Suzie and you would gasp. “Frank! No! That's too disgusting.” A moment of silence. “How big?”

Frank noticed right away when you would start to feel insecure. When you would flatly refuse to take out your sketchbook regardless of what ridiculous poses Suzie would make for you. You were quiet, eyes downwards and shoulder slumping as if you were trying to make yourself somehow smaller than you already were. Frank’s by no means an emotional guy but seeing you so downtrodden, so determined to sink into the background really tore at his heartstrings. He would pull you aside, taking you far away from the others until you two were alone. You wouldn’t look at him, your arms wrapped around yourself. “It’s not just the art.” He was guessing but already he knew he was right. You wouldn’t even offer him a nod afraid that by doing so you would be labeled as someone digging for feigned sympathy.

This was so difficult for Frank. He didn’t know how to comfort you or how to make you feel better. He also didn’t understand where this sudden insecurity came from. To him you perfect and talented and such a good person. You had a kind heart which you would share with those around you and that's all he really cared about. You were good to him. He couldn’t think of anything to say so instead he walked closer to you and slowly placed your hand between his. You momentarily looked up at him and you saw his eyes flicker behind his mask. He squeezed your hand, his words failing but his contact and pressure making up for it. He was trying to be reassuring and you appreciated it. He’d only ever hold your hand and that was something to be gratefully for.

In that time alone he asked you to take out your sketchbook. You did and he steps away, releasing one hand from yours. He reaches up and hesitantly takes off his mask. “Draw me.” You were stuck, in awe of his face and the significance of this moment. Frank never takes his mask off, not completely anyway. This must really mean something to him, YOU must really mean something. A wave of unsureness washed over you and you lost all confidence in your skill. He saw you slip away again and he squeezed his hand. “Hey.” He makes you look at him, his face gentle and his attention focused solely on you. “I believe in you. You are good. You got this.” And that's all you needed to hear. You got the feeling that he was talking about more than just your drawing skills. If he believed in you then everything was okay. You were alright. “Besides. It can’t be worse than the original.”

Dwight Fairfield

Like Frank, Dwight doesn't really care about your outward appearances. Well, it's not that he doesn't care it’s more that he just in a constant state of shock that anyone at all is interested in him. He’s always amazed when you sit next to him specifically or when you want to talk to him and actually listen to what he says. No one has ever really given him that kind of attention before and now you’re here beside him eagerly wanting to hear how his day was or what he was feeling. Dwight was just grateful to have someone as kind and loving as you were to even notice him.

He was beyond blown away by your artistic talents. You can sketch killers from memory and Dwight always finds himself in awe of how detailed and accurate the drawing was. You were so creative and special, the thing he was never. He looked to you and saw everything he could never be or never was. But you didn’t shove your achievements in his face, you didn't flaunt your talents like some egotistical morons would. You were humble and his compliments never went straight to your head. You looked so good when you were kind and modest. He liked how ordinary you were regardless of how awesome you appeared to him.

You’d often ask to draw him and he would blush and look away. Why would you want to draw him? The most boring of all the other survivors. But you were insistent and eventually, he’d cave. If only you had a red pencil because his cheeks were always hot and flushed. He could never make eye contact with you while you worked on him so expect a lot of side profiles or closed eye portraits.

In trials together his heart would all but break at the sight of you getting hurt. Whenever he’d hear your cries as you’d be slammed onto a meat hook he would gasp and practically feel something inside him cry out along with you. You were too good for this. He was a nobody, a weak, pathetic nobody who deserved to be in this purgatory because he was too scared to try and live a normal life. This was his punishment for being so forgettable. But you... he just couldn’t understand it.

Once he had jumped between you and your pursuer taking the hit and aggression while you ran off to go heal. For once in his life he felt happy, he felt as if he had finally done something meaningful and good. He had saved you. He would have died for you as well but you never let that happen. He watched in utter shock and disbelief as, against all odds, you went back for him. You pulled the man off his hook and with shaking hands you pressed his head into yours. Both your foreheads with touching and you had your hand at the back of his head.

“Don’t ever do that again.” He felt you waver and suddenly he realized that you were scared for him. He felt your urgency and terror and it was all directed towards him and his safety. He could have cried.

Dwights not the brightest bulb in the pack so forgive him but it will take a while for him to realize that you were insecure. He just assumed that when you started isolating yourself from him that it was because you had found someone much better than him. But he noticed that your hands still shook whenever you’d see him in pain and you would always be by his side the moment he needed help. You still cared for him deeply and he could feel it through your desperate actions and your desolate expression.

He walked over to your spot at the campfire. No one was near you, all were chased away by your depressing aura. You were dark and dying, everything around you was heavy with despair and sorrow yet he pushed through it all. He clawed away that thick fog and finally came to rest by your side. You didn't even look at him as he approached.

“Y-You don’t draw anymore.” No response. He hesitated unsure of how best to comfort you. He looked over and saw your hands. They were so small and gentle yet they produced such amazing things. He missed seeing you alive as you worked, the happiest you had ever been. He reached out and took your hands in his. This was the most forward he had ever been with you and it caught you by surprise. You turned to face him and you saw pain in his eyes.

“I-I’m sorry.” he paused and looked away, ashamed. “I’m sorry I took so long to notice.”

Dwight really did feel sorry. He felt like he had abandoned you, leaving you vulnerable and alone with the true killer; yourself. This time you felt his hands shake.

Dwight wasn’t much but he was yours and he loves you. And he loved you so much to maybe even make up for your own lack of self-love. You sighed and rested your head on his shoulder. He was enough.

“Please draw me again. I-I promise I won’t look away this time.” How could you refuse him?

Jake Park

Jake’s a simple man. He knows the silence of the world and prefers it to the company of people. So when you start to hang out with him or show interest in his life he is pretty unresponsive. He expected you to eventually lose curiosity in him and leave him alone with the woods. But you didn’t.

You’d follow him around, asking questions and receiving minimal answers. You would ask him what to draw and when you were done he would just glance at the sketch then nod or huff. He was certainly a very difficult and cold man.

You would draw many things for him, be it crows or plants or sometimes even killers. And he would always show an extreme lack of interest in them. So you decide to stop showing him. The two of you would sit in a quiet spot in the woods, you sketching and him wondering why you were still trying so hard to be friends with him.

You were working on a portrait when you were, without warning, whisked off into a trial. You quickly shoved your art into your pocket and set to work trying to escape. Jake was in the trial with you and you gladly worked on gen with him. Minutes later everyone was dying and only 2 generators had been lit. It wasn’t looking so good but the only thing you were worried about was your precious item in your pocket. It was something that you were really proud of and, to be dead honest, it was one of the best pieces of art you had made in a long time. You were afraid to die and lose it. But... it really didn’t look like you were getting out of this one.

You caught Jake in a corner, injured but not making a noise. You approached him and he reached out ready to tend to your wounds. You shook your head and crouched next to him trying to catch your breath. Your hand went into your pocket and pulled out your folded artwork. he eyed it unsure.

“I know you don’t care about my bad drawings but,” you held it out for him to take. “please, this one’s for you.” You quickly ran off, too embarrassed to be there when he opened it.

He was frozen for a moment, confused as to what just happened. He did care about your drawings. You were talented and he really enjoyed when you included him. Why would you think that he wouldn’t like them? He turned his attention back to the paper. With a bloody hand, he carefully unfolded it and was shocked to find a portrait of him. It was so beautiful, delicate lines used to define his face and his far-off expression and for a second he couldn’t believe it was him. It was so well done. How could you be ashamed of showing him this? He loved it. He looked up and saw you run off and his heart run with you. He was suddenly hit with his suppressed love for you. You were patient and kind and your small stature always made him wonder how anyone could hurt something so cute. He escaped that trial along with your picture. He, unfortunately, couldn’t save you.

Later at your spot in the woods, he approached you. He presented your art and you gasped. “How’d you get that!?” You reached out to take it back. “I’m sorry! It’s...” your cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He must think you are such a creep, drawing bad pictures of him without his knowledge.  You clutched the paper to your chest and felt a wave of hot insecurity flood over you. But Jake never let you drown.

“It’s really good,” Jake said, his voice the most emotional and vibrant it had ever been. “I’m sorry if I never expressed my appreciation of it.” He put a hand on your shoulder. “You’re really good... to me. And,” he paused letting go for a moment and taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry I’ve been so distant. Thank you for sticking around.” It wasn’t much but it was the best he could do. There was a deep-rooted honestly in his confession and it pulled at your heart.

It wasn’t enough to make you feel better but it was a start. With Jake, it is a journey of recovery, not a once-off end-all fix. But he was good at consistency and was always there the moment your fears reared their ugly heads. He was warm and solid, grounding both himself and you in the world.

#dbd imagines #dbd headcanons #dbd x reader #dbd frank morrison #dbd dwight fairfield #dbd jake park

[megatraven]

Betrayal in Olympus by one they trusted most AU? :o

ok ur gonna hate me but theres so many instances in astoria where it ALMOST happens th way i described exactly

there is. quite a bit of terrible betrayal from a trusted person in this series LMAO. i think the closest instance to what i said has to be hades’ season 3 where he breaks their engagement off to protect mc and she literally says she’ll never forgive him, except hades doesn’t die or almost die, she does,,

but YES!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YES!

i like the way u think my friend

ok ok ok ok ok

au where the gods realize that mc’s mother had hera’s potential after she dies. so they take mc to olympus to raise, knowing she’s the vessel of hera now. there’s no fight from her father, and only josh seems to care, but he can’t do anything in the face of 11 ancient gods.

they let her visit with him, from time to time, on olympus, but aside from that, her only real friend is alex.

alex has always been a constant in her life. from her earliest memories, they were there. she trusts them above anyone else, and that feeling only grows the more time she spends around them.

she’s had a crush on them for so long, but she falls for them when she’s around 20. she keeps a tight lid on that, and has a hard time looking aphrodite in the eyes once she realizes it.

come 25, alex is still her best friend, and they’re pretty much the only person she cares to hang around. over the past ten years they’ve made countless promises to each other, helped each other grow and learn and grieve and find happiness again

she’s undeniably in love with alex.

and she’s surprised when she finds out that they love her, too. in that same special sort of way, where their lips meet and their souls touch and dance and become something more than either of them

now the thing is this

mc know why she’s there on olympus- zeus told her as much when she first moved up there.

but there’s a part of her that never really believed the gods could be so cruel as to kill her, to replace her with someone else. not after they already took her mother.

and, more than that..... alex has promised her, time and time again, that they would keep her safe. that they would protect her, from anyone, anything. 

maybe, at first, she didn’t really believe that, either. but they promised it so often, with such conviction, backing it up with their actions time and time again, that she couldn’t help believing in them fully

so she’s 25

and she’s in love with alex

and she trusts them more than anyone and anything

and the gods tell her that it’s time for them to awaken hera

and, she thinks, it’ll be okay- alex will protect her

but they don’t

they step back, ashamed, head bowed as they pull their hand from hers

they watch her with eyes that are filled with sorrow and guilt and heartbreak, but she can hardly care when they’ve just broken her own

they say they’re sorry, and she can only shout that she’ll never forgive them for breaking their promises

she refuses to see them, won’t speak to even aphrodite, and requests to change residences. hades lets her stay with him until the ritual day comes, and though it draws near, she can’t even bring herself to be afraid- all she can think about is alex and how they hurt her

the gods, she’s never had any close connection to, really. so for them to come through on what hey said, to awaken hera and leave her for dead... it doesn’t surprise her, really.

but alex. alex betrayed her. abandoned her.

it hurts the most of everything.

when time runs out for her, she’s escorted to the throne room, where all eleven top-tier gods have gathered for the ritual to awaken hera

mc meets the gaze of each god in there, willing them to be faced with the fact that they’re about to kill her, to remember how she looked at them when all is said and done.

her gaze lingers on aphrodite a little longer, and her heart aches, but she moves on, passing over alex, and onto the next god

zeus gives some long-winded speech, which she drowns out in favor of watching the agents and minor gods milling about in the background.

when the ritual is just about to begin, she notices from the corner of her eyes that alex has disappeared. her heart sinks further, for all of a moment before a silver stag and doe burst into the throne room, and the room falls into chaos

several gods jump up and summon their auras, too- but not to stop alex’s. they stand with them- with her.

she’s so surprised, and looking around wildly for alex, that she doesnt see zeus approach until he’s already grabbed her arm 

she shouts and tries to pull away, but she was never going to be a match for the god’s strength. she never even trained with her aura, the gods only let her keep the ring because she would become Hera, and they wanted the proof that there was connection enough between the two of them that Hera could be awakened at all

stag and doe ram into him though, emboldened by the hearts of aphrodite’s aura, pushing him back and making him stagger, enough so that his grip on mc loosened and she can get herself free

alex swoops in in front of her, a shield to the sword that’s been hanging over her head for the past decade

the fight is terrible. gods rip into one another, feuds thought long forgotten rising back to the surface as some fight for their goddess, and others fight for the right for humans to live their own lives, or even just to honor the one they’d considered a friend.

it’s brutal

and through it all, alex stays right by her side

there’s no time to exchange words, not while they fend off the king of gods himself

something has to bend

something has to break

unfortunately, it’s alex who does, when zeus’ lightning spears right through their stag and doe both, shattering the auras, and hitting them right in the chest

they fly back into mc, and she’s barely able to stop them both from crashing to the ground

she holds onto them as they sink down, all their energy, their strength drained

she’s openly crying, and doesn’t much register how the sounds of fighting have quieted around her, or how zeus hasn’t immediately taken her away, or the golden light that shines on them both. (her aura, she’ll realize later.)

there’s only her, and alex, and that sweet smile she missed so much that’s always soothed her, heart and soul

they reach a hand up and brush a thumb over her cheek, wiping away a trail of her tears

“im sorry” theyll say. “i never wanted to hurt you.”

“then why?” she asks, although at this point, she doesn’t care about the answer. they came back to her, after all. nothing matters more than that. it’s in their actions that she sees their truth.

“it had to be this way. so i could be in the throne room when the time came, without being suspect.” they wheeze out a breath, coughing. “so i could stop them from hurting you.”

“you shouldn’t have done that.” her breath hitches, and she’s almost sobbing. “you stupid, stubborn demigod. i didn’t need to be saved, i just needed you to be with me.”

“i know that. but there wasn’t any point for me, if you weren’t alive, too.”

“and what about me?” she whispers, holding them closer to her, as much as she can without hurting them more. “what point is there for me if you die now? you’re... everything”

“you’ve still got josh,” they say. their hand comes to rest over one of hers. “my mother has his address.”

her heart beats louder at that, but its not enough to distract her from the now.

“alex, please. don’t leave me.”

“i’m sorry.”

she knows they would stay if they could. they promised her that they would never leave. but this time she doesn’t see it as a broken promise.

“i am, too. i’m so, so sorry... i love you”

its the first time she’s said the words to them. it’s the last time, too,

they smile with whats left of their strength.

“i love you, too.”

and then their eyes flutter close

(for a happier ending than this----- ignore the ‘its the last time, too’ part, and think of mc’s aura- hera’s power- finally awakening in her, but not the goddess herself. her aura is capable of healing others, and she pours it into alex, to the point that they’re no logner in danger of dying, and mc becomes the first and only demigod of hera)

#death tw #alex cyprin #alex x mc #alex #afk mc #astoria #lovestruck #afk mom #hera #josh #zeus #my fic

[jolieny-blog]

❌❌!!!Triggering content!!!❌❌

Chisaki x Depressed reader One Shot/Scenario

• Self-Harm •

(I know this isn't the best representation of self harm,but I needed this badly and hope ya'll enjoy|| I feel like I neither write Chisaki too soft or too bad,i never get the middle lmao)

It was late in the morning,even if my life would depend on it,it wouldn't mean anything to me.There was no motivation for me to get up,furthermore the day would pass like any other,why should I bother then?As soon as my Boyfriend enters the room-no im being silly.For sure it's gonna be Chrono,Mimic or Nemoto getting me up.Chisaki sure as hell won't even lift a finger,the only effort he's gonna take is to call one of those three with a flick of the finger in order to take care of me.I would love to judge him purely based on the fact how rare i get to see him,but I cant blame him.Its still a challenge to me how I got to be in a relationship with him.A simple,plain girl that always did relay on those dear to her,a girl which always struggled with her self,A crybaby.He knows my thoughts before I get to think,he always did read my mind based on my facial expressions.

Chisaki,my love,its a shame,huh?You gave me everything i could ever wish for,showered me with lovely gifts just to be able to see me smile.In return I reached for the razor blade,covered the soft skin you fell in love with in blood.Yesterday as you stepped in,at the worst time,I witnessed you crying for the first time.It took one tear of you to break my heart into peaces.Seriously,I just couldn't find a excuse for my unforgivable act.Im ungrateful,it was bold of me to assume that just because I fell in love,the madness in my head would fall apart.The moment he kissed me softly back then let me forget,what a mess I am as he confessed to me in the silliest way possible two months ago.I knew it wouldn't last for long.But a surprising beat against the door,tore me from my thoughts,the crazy world I began to sink in.Within a second i got up "Come in." I said,trying to hide my uncertainty.As My Boyfriend stepped in my eyes widened "My dear." His voice was as soft as always.But it were the big eye bags under his eyes which concerned me.Chisaki was a man who was sensitive when it came to his sleep schedule,due to his work he couldn't allow himself to stay up for too long,or even dare to get a single hour of sleep less as usual.I covered my body behind the bed cover "Kai?" My eyes went down to the ground,he stepped closer to me,afterwards he grabbed the bed cover and did throw it to the side.My body,especially my arms provided by scars,were bare.In shock I jumped back,put he just leaned closer to my face.He stroked my Face carefully with his left hand,with the other the lifted up my arm which he gave a soft kiss "Please." He softly whispered "Promise me,that you will never do this to yourself ever again,I beg you Y/N." It seemed like he once again was shortly before the peak of crying.It surprised me to see Kai like that,usually he has an cold expression and is good as holding back his feelings.It's because of me that he feels pain in his chest which he couldn't explain,because I was being egoistic everyone I loved had to suffer.At first no words were able to come out my mouth,my breathing was hard and I could feel my heart almost knock off "I-I'm sorry." My entire body began to shake out of sorrow "I only think about myself and not about the others-" before I came to finish my sentence Kai interrupted me "Shut up!" He highered his voice,it was obvious how frustrated my dear partner was "You're sich an idiot for thinking that way,I love you,you dumbass." "And do you now expect me to get better?Simply because of love,I don't want to hurt you but-" suddenly Chisaki hugged me tightly,it was unusual for him to be that kind.He's one who does not simply show his feelings,neither is he slightly decent at comforting others.His face laid on my shoulders "Then I will make you,no matter what it takes." What surprised me the most was how he still accepted my,at first I expected him to view my as sick but that isn't the case "I will do anything,just promise me you will try." He clearly couldn't understand my mental illness he tried made it simpler than it was,he's maybe not stupid but not the smartest either when it comes to others feelings.But the fact how hard he tried to get me up,made me change my mind.I patted his Hat " I will try,I will,but I cant do this alone.I cant promise you it will never happen again,just tell me that you will be at my side and I will do anything in my power.But it could took me years,please be patient and never leave me,alright?" I was willing to change,I just can't take seeing him as down as he is right now,yes maybe it was out the blue but as long as he gets better it will be alright.kai lifted his head up and kissed my on the lips "Silly,i would never leave you.If that's what you desire,So be it." I softly smiled at him,even tho i wasn't in the mood to "Thanks my love."

It wasn't the last time but I cant do more than give it a try,right?As long as he won't leave me,like everyone did.Without him I cant imagine the meaning of life anymore.Some would say I'm emotionally addicted to him,but what other option is there for me?Exactly,being alone one more time,with the darkest thoughts my mind could come up with.

#chisaki kai #bnha #I hope no one gets uncomfortable! #depression is a bitch and you gotta own her