#its not your fault i feel like this though if anyone does read this | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

qierxing · 10 months

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A/N: An interpreted continuation of @shiny-jr wonderful fic. This is one of the longest fics I’ve written…..carried by my love for Heartslabyul. Been chipping away at this every so often until now. I would strongly recommend reading Shiny’s part first, or else a good part of this will not make sense. Part two will be something that will be floating in the future.

TW/CW: Graphic descriptions of PTSD & panic attack symptoms, self-harm from bad coping habits, dissociation, dismemberment, references to Alice in Wonderland, made up lore LOL

I. II. | Isekai AU | Yan! Heartslabyul x Reader

"So she sat on, with closed eyes, and half believed herself in Wonderland, though she knew she had but to open them again, and all would change to dull reality…"

– Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, by Lewis Caroll

i. Cremation

Ramshackle's mailbox is a pitiful thing.

It sits right in front of the small graveyard near forgotten covered in tangled vines and weeds. Unlike its surroundings which shine from recent renovations and repairs, the hinges still squeak loudly when the latch is opened and the outer parts are scratched and dented. On bright sunny days, it sticks out like a sore thumb.

And today, it's even more obvious.

The box now is in danger of tilting off its support pole, filled with the weight of lumpy letters, spilling out envelopes upon the dirt. Around it sits various colorful wrapped boxes and packages that are piled haphazardly across each other. You swear it gets larger each passing day.

“How many does this make?”

A battered top hat pops into existence next to you, one of the resident Ramshackle ghosts who's been helping you around lately. (He had said you remind him of his siblings when he was alive. You're still unsure whether that was a good or bad thing.)

You let out a sigh through your nose. There's nothing to say about the situation in front of you. You wish they could disappear the minute you wish for it, yet the colorful wrappings and the various envelopes scattered around your feet don’t vanish the more you stare.

“I’m really sorry about all this.”

The ghost shakes his head, frowning at your apology.

“It’s not your fault, prefect.”

The words are reassuring, but they don’t make the gross feeling go away when you crouch down and start picking up letters that have fallen out of the mailbox.

From: Azul Ashengrotto

Sender: Vil Schoenheit

Sent by: Riddle Rosehearts

All of them are addressed to you, of course. You can already imagine their contents: filled to the brim with regret and guilt, blotted words begging for forgiveness for the wrongs they’ve done. When you told the Headmaster that you didn’t want anyone visiting Ramshackle, that wasn’t an invitation for them to flood you with unwanted mail. Then again, perhaps you should have foreseen that they would do this. All of them are stubborn to a fault. It wasn't like your phone was any better until you’ve blocked all numbers making it go off endlessly like a shrieking parrot.

The resulting letters alone are thick enough to rival the textbooks Professor Trein assigns students. Pressing your lips together, you turn around to start heading back to your temporary home.The rest of the bulky packages can wait. The ghost helps swing the door open and Grim perks up from his seat in the living room as you set down the letters.

“Grim, can you get a fire going?”

“Now?”

He eyes the thick pile of letters with wary slit pupils and asks, “Aren’t ya…gonna read ‘em?”

You did. For the first few ones, at least. They were barely discernible, their apologies blurring by as they begged for your grace and mercy. That they would do anything to right their wrongs. If you didn’t know any better, you would say their reverence was akin to a cult.

It makes your skin crawl.

After that, you stopped bothering to even skim through. What is the point of continuing to make sense of lunatics? Of cruel games and intrepid players?

"We have the wood, and the house is a bit chilly, so why not?" You reply. Grim scrunches his eyebrows but doesn't object as heavy wooden logs are dumped into the grate. He takes a deep breath and blows upon the letters scattered on the wood, encasing everything in familiar neon blue flames.

You settle into the armchair next to Grim, staring into flickering blue flames. Grim curls up next to you, purring contentedly. All too easily, your eyes lull close to the sound of crackling flames consuming paper.

–

When you step out onto the front porch the next morning, you're overtaken by an overwhelming fragrance.

There's crimson red petals floating through the air. Fluttering in the crisp morning wind, they fall in your hair and the rest end up crushed under your feet. You'd feel bad if it wasn't so pungent; the very air feels like it's infused with the scent of roses.

Your nose crinkles as you pick up the impossibly huge bouquet that is wrapped in silk and ribbons. It's certainly beautiful, you'll give it that. Yet this scent doesn't bring back good memories. It only brings vivid flashbacks of being lost among rose bushes, covered in dirt and scratches, trying so frantically to find a way out. When every single crack and snap was a possible life threat.

You don't realize you're crushing the bouquet until something trickles down your fingers. It doesn't feel like blood pooling between your skin. Relaxing your grip ever so slightly, you find pin sharp thorns running down the stems where you were gripping. The fleshy meat of your palm is punctured cleanly in the shapes of the thorns. Was it left unclipped on purpose?

The card is the next thing you find with bloodied fingers, rumpling white cardstock and soiling it without a care.

To our beloved player,

We deeply apologize for the pain we have caused you and beg for your forgiveness. We will make sure to atone for our sins of harming you.

The initial and the bouquet is too obvious of who it's from. Riddle must've penned it, because none of the card soldiers would ever write this formally. But it must've been Cater's idea to send the bouquet–Trey nor Riddle would've come up with such a sentimental and sappy idea. And Ace and Deuce would rather die than do such a cringey thing.

The door opens again behind you. You turn to see a half-awake Grim groggily yawning. He stops once his blue eyes land on the bouquet in your hands.

"Whazz that?" He points a paw at the rumpled roses, and you hastily shove them behind your back.

"Nothing." You say.

Grim makes a face before finally breaking the awkward silence with, "Do ya want me to go tell 'em off–"

"No."

The answer is rushed and makes Grim's eyes widen. It's crazy, you know. But to have Grim try to solve the problem for you doesn't sit well with you. It's not like it's his fault for what you went through.

And maybe, deep down, you couldn't bear the thought of telling them nasty insults and curses to make them hate you more.

"I'll take care of it." You add, trying to reassure Grim, who only stares impassively. He shakes his head.

"Am I making another fire?"

"...if you can, please."

ii. The Morgue

It’s been a couple of weeks since you’ve been brought to Twisted Wonderland.

Yuu’s…body has been moved to another room. It freaks you out more than you would like to admit. It’s familiar, yet it’s not. It’s carved to your image, but with none of your personality. There’s something wrong with the way its eyes are tilted, the dip of its cheeks, the curve of the chin. An idealistic, dreamy mirror of yourself.

Still. You’ve seen many dolls in your lifetime, and even you cannot deny the life like artisanship. The seams of the joints are cleverly hidden and the skin is smooth and unfettered without any misshapen resin(or clay?)–these are marks of a true doll-maker.

“It’s your vessel.” Grim had said with a matter of fact tone. As if you weren't looking at an unmoving human body. “Everyone was freakin’ out cuz’ it just shut down outta nowhere.”

It must’ve been because you were brought here at that moment. The hypothesis doesn’t really make you feel any better. You should know better than to blame an inanimate shell of a vessel, but...

You jerk awake, cold sweat running down your neck and face. It takes a second for you to realize you're not being encased in burning scarlet flames and it's not claustrophobic verdant green hedges surrounding you. The bed sheets are tangled, wrapped in a chokehold around your legs and torso. Instead of translucent leaves, the bed canopy curtain shields you from the moonlight pouring in. The soft snores of Grim sync with your ragged breaths in time.

Tonight's nightmare had been recurring for a while. Every single time you thought you had shaken it off, it comes back like a bad omen.

Instinctively, your hand runs over the bumpy raise of scars running down your back and neck. Most of them had faded with magical treatment and time, but there are some that still have rough skin that has hardened like scales on a dragon.

Your fingertips curve inward and dig.

You thought you were safe. The rose maze is large and encompassing: hiding would be the best move. You breath in–

– and you were face to face with the Crimson Tyrant himself.

His face contains no humanity, his eyes only reflect dark, dark anger and resentment. You thought you were staring into a never ending abyss. Something inky black catches your eye, and you realize with horror that blot is trapping your feet and leaving stains upon your skin.

"Stop right there, imposter!"

Your nails scrabble at the bumps and raises, tearing through them with obsessive speed. Faster, faster–it doesn't feel right, you have to scrub your skin clean of those foreign textures.

Adrenaline is the only thing keeping your legs from collapsing to the blot climbing its way up. You have to do something–

–something wraps around your neck and torso, and all air leaves you as it squeezes and knife sharp needles gnaw into bone.

Your breathing grows more hoarse as your nails scratch faster and faster, desperate to remove more of those vile clumps of impurities.

"You will suffer as Yuu did." The verdict is declared with deranged gleeful vengeance. The tyrant points his scepter at your fallen body covered in thorny vines reminiscent of roses. Blot swallows your form and screams whole–

It's only when the familiar smell of iron registers in your mind, that you finally snap back to your senses. When you finally draw your hand back to view, it's covered in clotted blood and torn skin, both dead and fresh, all clogged under your nails. The open cold air now makes your neck and back sting sharply as blood trickles out of reopened wounds.

It's with a heavy heart that you quietly leave the bedroom entirely to wash away the blood in the kitchen sink. Crimson dyes the white ceramic for a brief moment before swirling away down the drain.

The wounds sting and ache, but you can barely be bothered to tend to them as you resign yourself to the living room couch with a thin blanket. You think of Grim sleeping unaware upstairs and close your eyes. The old weathered grandfather clock in the corner ticks on and on with each second.

No, you can't blame a puppet for functioning for its purpose.

But you could tear its limbs out of its sockets so it could never walk anywhere again. If you plucked out its fingers and eyes, it wouldn't be able to find its way around anymore. Sewing the mouth shut would seal the deal.

Then it would truly know how it felt to have no choice.

–

Working as Sam's assistant helps take the mind off things. Crowley had begged you to resume classes as Grim's 'beast tamer', but something in you screamed at the thought of having to shed your feelings aside to return to what normalcy was. As if this world didn't run on the giant malicious cogwheels of fate and lines of code.

How painfully obvious it is that your mere presence is just a substitute.

"Ah!"

You look up from sorting products on the shelves to a surprised looking Riddle Rosehearts. No no no no–

You take in his sunken gray eyes and pale skin, before going back to shelving products. It takes strength to play dumb. Your shaking hands betray the fear growing within as they sort through stationary merchandise. Finally, the products are lined up neatly and you're trying to bustle away as quickly as you can–

"W-wait!" You try to ignore the half whispered plea, moving behind the counter with an unnatural speed.

"Please, wait, I need something!" You do stop, because unfortunately, you can't completely ignore a customer in need. So you take a deep breath and grit your teeth, turning around with a polite smile. Stare straight ahead. Think not of smoldering flames and knife like rose thorns–

"What can I help you with?" He stares into your eyes, frantic and desperate. It's clear with the way his mouth opens and closes that he wasn't sure how to continue his case.

"If you aren't sure, take your time to browse, dear customer." The grin was starting to wear on your cheeks already with how much you struggle to keep it in place.

Please just leave, you internally beg. You settle behind the counter, watching as Riddle bows his head and disappears among the shelves for his items. A tired sigh leaves your nose.

Your hands keep shaking no matter how hard you clench and unclench them.

He can't hurt me here.

Sam is just a yell away and there's mace and a knife in your bag underneath the counter.

It'll be fine. It's not the Tyrant.

A clink of glass catches your attention, as some ink bottles are pushed on the counter.

"I've finished." Riddle's smoldering eyes choke you under their hues.

"I'll ring that up, then."

The exchange happens quietly yet as you hand him the bottles, he pauses, looking down. "What happened to your hand?"

Shit. There were still obvious swollen scratches and puncture holes imprinted on your hand. You completely forgot about bandages after Grim caught you with the bouquet the other day. You quickly hide your hand in your pocket. "I don't know what you're talking about."

He seems to want to say more, but is cut off when someone else comes up behind him, waiting to pay for their items. He only swallows hard and nods, setting out with only a guilty look back.

You finally breathe out a long sigh of relief when the door chimes echo behind him.

"That'll be ten thaumarks and thirty madols."

This is the fifth time Riddle's shown up during your shift and bought ink. This time, it's a deep crimson color not unlike the shade that saturates his dorm. It reminds you of torn skin on nails from that night, and it takes a minute to shake those thoughts off as you pick up the bottles.

"Prefect, could I talk to you after your shift ends?" You turn to fix him with an incredulous stare, and he grimaces.

"I promise I won't harm you! Did you not get our letters?" But how can I trust you? On this cracked chessboard you are forced to play upon, you don't know where to place Riddle at all. He is too much of an unstable bomb that could blow up in your face at the wrong impression.

"Fine." He definitely won't back down until you agree to hear him out, and it's best to let him state his case once and for all. "My shift ends in an hour. I'll meet you outside."

"Excellent. I shall wait for you then, prefect." He takes his bag and leaves with a small bow.

The time passes all too quickly. Sam shoos you out before you can try to coax some overtime hours from him. And much to your annoyance, Riddle is waiting for you promptly as you step outside.

He looks nervous as he bows his head in acknowledgement of your presence. You'd almost feel bad, if it weren't for the fact that he nearly beheaded you at first sight.

"Have you received our recent letter and flowers?" A long silence follows, before you reluctantly nod. Your hand throbs as you open and close it out of habit. You just removed the bandages this morning, but the unbearable itch to reopen the scars is too tempting. Steel eyes are immediately drawn to the movement. "I see. Then I won't drag this out. Prefect, could we prove to you our sincerity to make amends?"

"What do you mean?"

"Exactly as I said. Please let our dorm express to you our sincerity to mend our relationship." The intensity of his eyes makes you sick to your stomach.

"You've apologized enough, Housewarden Rosehearts. I'm sure your card soldiers have too." Subconsciously, your hand drifts toward your neck.

He winces. No doubt it must be a sting to his pride that his numerous penned letters weren't acknowledged. "It's not just about apologies. We want to start over–turn over a new leaf, if you will, for our relationship. It would be a disgrace to the Queen of Hearts herself if I could not atone for what I've done."

Always with the rules. You're not entirely sure what Riddle means when he says 'mending your relationship', but it seems he's already set his mind to it. It would be hard pressing to get him to change his mind now.

"...sure." You reluctantly acquiesce. The tips of your nails brush against scarred skin before drawing back. You shouldn't. It took so long for the wounds to close again, for sinew to piece itself together, and for skin to finally grow back. You don't want another lecture by Crewel or Trein.

He brightens considerably with a look of relief. "Good. Then, please wait for our call."

You watch in confusion as he trots off hurriedly after another deep bow. Wait for our call? What does that–

Something buzzes, and you realize it's your phone, lighting up with a notification from Magicam. You frown, tapping on the icon. A message?

cay4cay sent a message request

The second you processed the username and profile picture, you instantly hit the block button. With a frustrated scowl, you shove the phone into your pocket. You deleted Yuu's account and only had a burner account for info purposes. How the hell did that social butterfly find your handle?

You groan. This is all too much.

iii. Paying Respects

A letter arrives, but not by mail.

A jarring commotion rudely rips you from sleep's embrace. You groggily sit up, blinking once, twice, before realizing the noises were very much real and still happening. Who is this loud on a Sunday morning? Grim continues to snooze right next to you, unperturbed by the disturbances. You debate whether it's worth it to get out of the comfy covers. Then another yell echoes up to the room and you groan in annoyance.

You slam the entrance doors open, ready to give the lecture of a lifetime before you stop in your tracks.

Deuce Spade looks like he wants the ground to swallow him up whole. Even Ace Trappola, haughty asshole that he is, looks thoroughly ashamed to be caught in a compromising pose. The scene is so familiar that you can't seem to be confused. It takes a second of awkward staring from all three of you before you realize that you're still standing in your thin pajamas, out front in the public entryway in the cold.

"...May I help you?" The distant polite inquiry has them both flinching. They scramble to their feet, brushing off dirt and debris from their fist fight.

"We're very sorry!" Deuce bows deeply, while Ace scoffs and looks away.

"Housewarden Riddle told us to give you this, so…" Ace shoves a white envelope with a seal boasting a crown insignia into your hands. The Queen of Hearts. You exhale through your nose. So this is what Riddle meant earlier.

You open the envelope gingerly, carefully inspecting it as if it were some kind of trap.

"We're going to have a party soon." Ace is still determinedly avoiding your eyes. "You can come…if you want."

You hold back a sardonic chuckle. Even after everything that's happened, he's trying to act like some kind of cool, suave guy. Your eyes drop down again and you open up the flap to reveal the elegant crimson cursive that decorates the paper.

You're cordially invited to Heartslabyul's monthly tea party. Please send your response ASAP.

Date: XX/05

Time: 14:00 - 17:00

A silence lingers in the air, heavy as a rock. You can tell without looking that the two were holding bated breaths waiting for your reply.

This certainly was out of the blue. But. It was Ace and Deuce. Riddle may have issued the order, but they must've taken initiative in delivering her majesty's decree. Stubborn and tenacious, yet they were still endearing with their loyal friendship. Who in this world would run across a whole desert for you?

That wasn't for you though. The intrusive thought immediately makes your lips thin. The card soldiers shift at the subtle expression change, nervousness painted all over their faces.

You would be lying if you said you weren't curious. Why an invitation to a tea party? It was rather unlike Heartslabyul–or at least most of them–to be indirect like this.

"Sure. I'll be there. I can bring Grim, right?" You flip over the card and envelope, raising an eyebrow at their stunned faces.

"Wait, you serious?" Ace stutters. His ruby eyes blink rapidly as his mouth gapes open. It’s clear he wasn’t expecting you to actually say yes.

"Why would I waste my time lying to you?" You sigh, crossing your arms. Granted, you never did send any response back to that ostentatious bouquet, but you were already preoccupied with the hundred of other letters and packages flooding your mailbox.

"In that case, of course Grim can come!" Deuce says, looking like he's been released from an entire burden off his chest. It was no doubt plaguing him on what your answer would be.

"Great." You wave a careless hand, turning to close the door. You're so ready to go back under soft bed covers. "You can give my answer to your housewarden. See you then."

A hand grabs at your arm and tugs you back suddenly. You turn and open your mouth–

"You! You're the one that caused Yuu to shut down!!"

Wind blasts past you, leaving a thin trickle of blood down your cheek. Eyes wide, all you can do is stare at furious crimson eyes glaring you down.

"-Hey!"

Those eyes. It's the same bloody crimson. The same sharp glint of raw bloodlust. Your right cheek aches terribly. Cold sweat runs down your back. Try as you might, you cannot suppress the reactive instinct to flee.

"Don't touch me." Your terse response has Ace retracting his own hand immediately.

"S-sorry, sorry–" He’s scrambling to get past his mistake. If you were in a better state of mind, you would've laughed at his genuinely flustered state. "I–I didn't mean to grab you like that, it’s just that–"

"We also have something else.” Deuce cuts in, trying to cover for Ace’s blunder. He shoves something warm under your nose, and it takes a hot minute to process what you’re smelling.

Lavender. The cookies within his hands are simple and aren’t decorated, but the buttery floral aroma they emit leaves you salivating. You slowly take it from his hands, staring at the carefully packaged bag.

“...From Trey,” Deuce offers hesitantly after seeing your surprised expression. His tight expression and stiff posture betrays the way he is attempting to look respectable. “He's wanted to send you something for a while now.”

For a while? His dorm mates were all clambering to get any crumb of response from you. He might've had the manners then to understand that you wouldn't be delighted to hear from someone who only watched from the sidelines as you were being attacked. Did he only wait because his beloved housewarden didn't move yet? How typical.

“Tell him thanks for me.” The two of them shuffle their feet while exchanging glances at your freezing cold tone.

"Don't mind us, prefect." Deuce elbows Ace, causing the red head to click his tongue and glare back. "Sorry for bothering you like this–we'll get going now!"

The two actually leave without more fuss, leaving you to twirl the invitation in trepidation.

When you look down again, the flowy calligraphy has been smudged by your fingers, ink blooming on your skin like blood.

–

"What does one wear to a tea party, Sam?"

The question slips out before you know it, making the store keeper turn around and raise an eyebrow at you.

"And why is our little imp curious?" He teases. At your unamused face, his face splits into a garish grin.

"Perhaps you should ask Professor Crewel. After all, he does have quite the fashion sense." Sam strokes his chin in thought. "While we do have some outfits here, it might be best to get advice from someone who has been to these kinds of events."

And so, you find yourself standing in front of an indifferent Divus Crewel, who takes one look at you and takes another drag from his fashionable cigarette holder. He continues to shuffle through papers, all the while shaking his head.

“I should’ve known Sam would be the one to send you.” His voice sounds annoyed, yet carries no weight of anger. Much like how his bark is worse than his bite, Crewel isn’t one to heartlessly turn you away. “A tea party, you said?”

“Sam recommended that I go to you since you have more experience in this sort of thing.” Crewel does another critical once over of you, no doubt estimating your measurements for the look he’s thinking of. As expected of a former Pomefiore housewarden. He seems to already have an idea of what outfit would be best.

“I’ll help you, but you’re running some errands for me first, pup.”

You shouldn’t have expected anything less from the alchemy professor. Now you’re stuck picking out ingredients in the botanical garden while you’re waiting for him to get the materials together for your outfit.

Of all the botanical zones, it just had to be the tropical zone. The harsh artificial lights shine down as you lean down to pick herbs. While the temperature is bearable, you don't know how much more sweat your outfit can take before it gets soaked completely. The humidity is choking, and you feel dizzy from both the moisture and heat clouding your senses.

“Prefect?”

You look up wearily from basil plants to see Cater Diamond in his labwear, with a face that mirrors your stunned expression.

Give me a break. Immediately, your awkward customer service smile falls in place. First her Majesty, then Tweedle Dee and Dum, and now the March Hare? But Cater knows how to read the room. Maybe he'll know to let it go–

Your hopes are dashed as he immediately bounces up to you with a grin. “Didn't think I'd run into ya like this. Whatcha doing here?”

“Er, Crewel wanted my help with getting him ingredients…” This conversation was quickly swerving into awkward territory. “Why are you here?”

“Ah, you know…” Cater chuckles sheepishly, “I got assigned to water the plants…”

You take notice of the steel watering can in his gloved hands, then the long green hose by his boots. “Ah.”

“Guess that means we’ll be working together!” He chirps cheerfully and you cringe. Seven, anything but that! You quickly turn back to your basket and begin to pick up the pace in harvesting the basil. The quicker you finish, the faster you can get out of this deathly awkward situation.

“By the way, Acey and Deucey wouldn’t stop chatting about you accepting our invitation!” You flinch as Cater idles up next to you, using the hose to spray a generous amount of water over the patch of herbs. “It was pretty cute to see, y’know.”

“R-really?”

"Trey was also glad too. He and Riddle have been planning to make it the best tea party ever," he mock emphasizes. "They've been running the dorm ragged over the party deets. Cay Cay's been so busy with planning stuff!"

"That's not really necessary…" A feeling of guilt worms into your guts for a moment. You squash it. What Riddle and the others do is none of your business and no obligation of yours.

"Right? That's what I said too!" Is he implying that you're the reason there's more work than usual? How shameless is he?

After a good minute of dead silence, Cater pipes up again.

"Sooo, prefect, whatcha been up to lately?"

You can't take it anymore.

“Why are you talking like I have a gun to your head?”

Ever since he made his presence known, he's adopted a high pitched cheery tone that grates on your ears. It was akin to a customer service voice, but you know Cater. That's his influencer speak.

Cater's chipper smile vanishes instantly.

"Whaaaat?!" You catch a glimpse of his snaggle tooth in his exclamation. He quickly turns and moves to water a patch of sprouts further away, "Like, what are you even talking about? You know ol' Cay Cay's just trying to lighten the mood!"

More like he's desperately trying to appeal to you. He knows which attitude will get him the most views, and the best expressions to rake in likes and comments. You often thought that trait was endearing in its own way when you saw him as a fictional character. Now that you're dealing with him as a human being, it just pisses you off to no end. How could he? You know Cater isn't known for his genuineness but….you thought he would at least act his usual aloof casual self. Then you would know that it wouldn't matter if you offended him.

The straw basket is finally filled with everything Crewel asked you for. It's with dirtied skin and sore muscles that you turn towards the exit without sparing Cater a glance.

"If you say so, Diamond." You hurl the words like a molotov cocktail, and it's very effective. Cater's eyebrows twitch and his hands clench around the watering can. It's one thing to call him by his last name, it's another to completely blow off the nickname he blatantly shoves onto you. "See you later at the party."

“Wait, wait, time out for a second!! Can you at least unblock me on Magicam?” The last sentence makes you freeze in your tracks.

When you turn around, Cater’s somehow still smiling that insincere smile of his. Your neck prickles with dread.

You trust me now, right? His crinkled lime green eyes gleam.

You're not fooled. He is desperate to appeal to you not from genuine adoration, but rather guilty obligation. Although he tried to scrub it from his Magicam profile, you saw the blurry reels and pictures of you fleeing for your life. The detailed descriptions underneath. Each one boasting deliberate timestamps meant for best exposure. He put a bounty on your head with his own hands.

Two can play at that game.

"Block you? I don't have a Magicam account," is your dry response. Cater continues to smile as his eyes close.

"Really? I swear that it was you…" His lips jut out in an insincere pout, tilting his head. You shrug apathetically, hoping the conversation runs itself dead.

"Well, if you do make one, hit me up okay?" Cater calls out after your retreating back.

Once you're in the school corridors and catching your breath, you dig your phone out with shaky hands and pull up Magicam.

Hitting delete account has never felt more relieving.

–

The outfit, in your quiet opinion, was not worth the mental gymnastics you had to do in the botanical garden. Not that you were going to say anything to the very teacher who has been known to treat his students like barking dogs.

"It should fit just fine," Crewel smooths out the crinkles in the fabric before handing it to you. "Go on now. Try it on."

A simple white with a red ribbon bow tie and black slacks. It was rather simple, which is just fine. You didn't need or want to stand out in this party. But you certainly didn't want to end up looking like a slob either. This suit your needs quite nicely.

Smoothing down your shirt, you give a spin as Crewel looks on unimpressed. He waves you off with a dry "Don't expect me to do any more favors for you, pup." You mischievously grin and wave him goodbye as you trot off with your clothes in tow.

The last rays of the sun sets the hallway ablaze with orange and yellow hues. You hum as you take the familiar pathway back to Ramshackle. With everything crazy that’s been going on lately, it gets too easy to be swept up in the moment. As you watch the shadows flicker between the stone pillars, you slow down to observe the scenery for a bit.

The sunset catches a glint and reflects bright white for a moment. You blink and it’s gone when you focus. You stop, confused at the intrusion.

A loud click echoes behind you, but when you whip around, there’s nothing but the empty hallways.

You stand for a moment in place, waiting and listening apprehensively. Nothing else happens, and it’s with cautious paranoia that you turn around and start speed walking.

iiii. Funeral

It would be impolite to show up to a party without something.

But now as you're standing before the mirror leading to Heartslabyul, you're having second thoughts.

What if it isn't good? You glance down at your box containing the simple custard puddings you were able to make just last night. You didn't really have the skills to make complicated sweets and the puddings only took three ingredients. And your outfit, what if it isn't up to the Queen of Hearts' rules–

"C'mon, [First]! Or else the food will be gone by the time we get there!"

You breathe out a giggle. "I don't think anyone can beat you on your eating speed, Grim."

"You don't know that!" He hops up and down impatiently, waiting for you to adjust the box in your hands.

Right, who cares about any of that?

You follow your companion through the warped glass.

The fresh spring breeze graces you first, then the refreshing scent of flora, and finally, the warmth of the sun on your skin. When you open your eyes, the stretch of viridian green pastures and vibrant flowers greets you. The land of Heartslabyul is as picturesque as you remembered on screen. It feels unreal.

And waiting for you at the end of the path is the very first dorm you've befriended.

"Weird. Where's everyone at?" Grim grumbles, ears twitching in irritation.

The entrance is completely devoid of any human presence. You don’t sense anyone in the building either, which is completely strange.

Grim's right. Where is everyone? For an incoming tea party, wouldn’t there be various students rushing in and out for the preparations?

“Perhaps they’re in the maze?” You glance warily over to the tall hedges that bloom with beautiful roses. “Should we wait?”

“Ugh, that’s so rude of ‘em to keep us hangin’ though! I say we go lookin’ for them. Who knows how long we gotta stand out here!” Grim shakes his head, distraught at the thought of having to wait for his food. "Let's go to the kitchen!"

"You just want to see if you can eat something." You tut at Grim's scheming face.

"Mya, so what?!" He yowls. "I'm going and you can't stop me!"

"Grim, wait–" You call anxiously, but your companion is already scampering off into the dorm. You're left with no choice but to take a deep steadying breath and press on.

But the kitchen room is also empty when the two of you pop in. However, it seems like it was used recently, if not for the smell, then the sight of various dishes laid out on the counter would have clued you in. You sneakily compare your puddings to the spread laid out before you and wonder again if it isn't too late to put them away in a dark corner.

"What do you have there, prefect?" A low voice breathes in your ear.

You and Grim shriek in tandem, with you almost fumbling and dropping your box and Grim’s signature sharp nails digging into your shins.

The looming presence behind you is revealed to be Trey Clover, who has an apologetic face after spooking the two of you. At least he is conscientious.

"My bad, my bad," he chuckles, "I should've been more obvious about my arrival." He places a steady hovering hand behind your back. Just barely touching, yet close enough to feel its heat. Embarrassingly, the feeling is soothing enough that you can't find it in yourself to pull away.

"Sheesh, for real! You took some of my life with that, y'know Trey!" Grim hisses, detaching his claws from your poor legs. Trey only laughs and ruffles his head.

"I’m sorry about that Grim. Anyway, you guys came just in time," Trey begins to transfer the dishes onto a wheeled cart. "Food just needs to be carried out and the tea party can begin—but you have something, don't you?"

Regret seeps in when you think of your sad puddings next to all these gorgeous pastries and appetizers.

“Uhm, I don’t think it’s really needed since you got all this,” you laugh sheepishly as your hands automatically hide the box behind your back.

“No way.” Trey’s smile is warm but firm. When he gently guides your hands to give up the box, you can’t find it in yourself to protest. “It can’t be that bad, since you made it.”

You're struck silent, and Trey immediately takes advantage of your state to press his hand to your back to usher you forward. His fingertips graze your side, and for a second, you swear his lips quirk into a smirk.

You follow alongside Trey as he pushes the cart out through the door.

"By the way, I'm happy to hear you liked the lavender cookies." You look over to see the baker smile warmly. "I would've tried something with the candied violets I had, but I ran out just as I was making them." He sighs as he shakes his head.

Something with the way he's worded it makes it sound like there was more to the story, but you don't care enough to pry further. Trey's golden orbs slide to meet yours discreetly, and you realize he's waiting for you to respond. You murmur an apathetic response back, and he visibly droops.

It's a long, quiet walk through the rose maze.

It seems your arrival with Trey threw everyone off guard. You don't know why they look so alarmed: the venue looks absolutely resplendent. Colorful lanterns dot the tree lines, swinging back and forth cheerily with brightly colored flags. The long table is draped with fine cloth embroidered with intricate lace patterns. There's not a single wrinkle to be seen in the fabric. And the rose bushes, blooming with both red and white roses, are pruned cleanly, not a leaf or branch out of place.

It is a tea party fit for the Queen of Hearts.

"And the guest of honor is finally here!" Easygoing as ever, Cater calls out jauntily to you both. He seems to be the only one not visibly panicking. "Trey, what took ya so long?"

"Had to get the dishes here, you know." He shoots a knowing glare at Cater, who flinches with a sheepish smile. "Someone was supposed to help me, which would've made it a lot faster."

Ah. Cater giggles nervously while twirling his hair. Ace and Deuce exchange disbelieving looks before shaking their heads.

“Welcome, prefect.” Riddle greets you with a stiff bow. "And Grim." He hastily adds, seeing your companion’s face twist sulkily. The action makes you smile, if only for a moment.

“We’ve been waiting forever for you, Yuu—” Deuce jabs an elbow sharply into Ace’s side, making him cough and sputter mid sentence, but the damage has already been done. Another awkward silence reigns as everyone’s fearful faces are directed at you, trying to figure out how to best traverse the conversational minefield.

“W-What Acey meant to say is–” Cater is cut off immediately.

"Uh, er, come to think of it, what's your actual name?" Deuce is the one who pushes forward despite everyone else’s horrified looks. As if he had uttered a profane exclamation.

"My…name?" You echo back.

Right. Since all they knew was the puppet, they didn't know your true name. Heavy silence hovers in the air, even Grim was looking at you in anticipation.

"My name is…" Something chokes your throat. Reluctance? Or fear?

"[First]. [First] [Last]."

They mutter it among themselves, tasting the syllables and weaving the rhythms of the letters. How strange. With sugar coated lips, their voices ring like church bells for prayer. You're born anew, for the way they look at you is enough to make your heart soar for several fleeting seconds.

For a brief moment, you could believe that you were with your Heartslabyul again.

The tea party begins like a baby animal: slow, unsure, and always in danger of stumbling to the ground. But it’s Heartslabyul, and who else would know how to best host a party for its guests?

By the time the tea is being poured into your cups, a steady conversation has started naturally flowing between all of you.

“Is there something the matter?” Riddle asks for the nth time as he worriedly gazes at the way your eyes stray to the hedges and whimsical decorations beyond the table.

"Oh uhm…” You hesitate, still not meeting Riddle’s worried face. “Why are the roses both red and white? I thought one of your rules is that tea parties always have white roses."

Riddle exchanges a look with Trey at your question.

"That is true, [First], however…" He pauses, before continuing with a determined look. "Red and white roses are customary for parties celebrating with new friends."

“New…friends?” Your hand is frozen at your teacup.

Something fiercely warm fills your chest. There's cautious hope glimmering in Riddle and Trey's eyes. That wasn’t fair. How could they say something like that and not expect you to react?

The party ends on a light note unlike its stiff beginning. The soldiers gather to see you and Grim off, but once Grim scampers off with his leftovers in paw, her Majesty moves to your side.

“Prefect–no, [First], would you come again?” He asks. His hands are trembling, tugging at your sleeve timidly like a young child again. “F-For an Unbirthday party, of course!”

It’s a request that’s not selfish, you note. Her Majesty’s card soldiers look on expectantly behind their monarch, and it takes everything within you to not collapse.

“Of course. I can’t wait for it already.”

Your heart weighs heavy. They do not know that the promise is an empty white lie. Though you cherish them, you do not wish to act the role of a doll whose purpose is to play house.

When they looked at you with those pleading eyes, who did they see?

Yuu, the puppet they adored for its safe default responses and supportive words?

Or you, the player who has their own flaws and biased personality?

It's okay, you reason.

They won't be able to tell the difference between clay and flesh.

v. Burial

You have a hunch about Yuu.

Only a guess based on many hypotheticals, but better than nothing.

If the puppet stopped working when you arrived, then shouldn't it go without saying that if you left this world, that it would return back to life?

The wooden door creaks open, stirring up dust and sending it flying into the air. You cough and sneeze, waving your hand to disperse the irritant. Serves you right. After all, you refused to step into this room since Yuu's body was hauled here. Didn't even dare to come clean the room. The dust settles and you can finally make out the puppet's silhouette from the waning light rays of the window.

It still adorns its proper NRC uniform, wrinkled in the spots where you had lifted it. It hasn't moved at all from its sprawled pose on the sofa. You remember the dread at realizing the only fitting school uniform you could possibly wear was on this puppet. It only cemented your resolve to break away from the puppet's image. Even if you had to resort to clearing out ancient closets and haggling with faculty, you'd rather take the raggedy shawls and worn flannel over the crisp blazer and button up the puppet wore.

Its skin has become ashen gray, drained of any life. Old joints creaked in agony when you adjusted it to a sitting position for better examination. For a while, the both of you stare at each other.

Despair tugs at your mind. How long will you be trapped in this world? Has the Headmaster even done anything to help you get home? You snort. He couldn’t even bother doing anything when it was just the vessel. Why would that change now?

Can you hear me?

The voice, so quiet yet clear, makes you whip your head around. No one's in the room. Are you finally going crazy?

You can hear me, right?

Is one of the ghosts playing a prank on you? You can't pinpoint the source of the voice at all.

I'm here–look!

With dread and fear pooling in your heart, your head turns slowly to meet the doll's eyes; whose pupils are now fixated on you.

The urge to scream and push away the doll is overwhelming. But in a world where the supernatural is natural, you suppose that dolls that can speak are the least impossible thing out there.

I can help you find your way home.

You swallow thickly. Pursing your lips, your grip on its arms tightens as you lean in. Something stirs, and it’s crazy, but you swear it hums in pleasure.

Listen to what I say carefully…

Decorations? Check. Refreshments? Check.

Outfits? Check.

So why does it feel like there's something missing?

"What's wrong, Riddle?" He turns to see Trey's concerned face. He gives an awkward smile back.

"I'm not quite sure, but something feels amiss." He explains, rubbing his neck. It's obvious enough to make him feel the familiar slivers of irritation slither through him.

He tries to will it away. It's a good day, and there was nothing to be angry about. The player–no, [First]–had decided to give them a chance and agreed to come over to celebrate an Unbirthday party with them. Ace and Deuce are behaving as good, law-abiding card soldiers should be. The roses were saturated with dripping red, the dormouse had its nose smeared with jam–so what is this itch that won't go away?

"We can do a double check of everything again," Trey offers gently. “It shouldn’t take too long.”

Riddle shakes his head. “It’s almost time for them to arrive. I will not have them waiting on something that isn’t even a problem.”

“Housewarden~!” Speak of the devil. He turns with a frown at Ace’s loud shout, but it fades to a small smile when he sees you trailing after Ace.

"Hello, Riddle." You smile warmly at him, and his cheeks flush pink.

Wait. He stops. Have you ever called his name? He doesn’t have time to ponder this before he’s interrupted by Trey and Cater bringing in the food.

When everyone is seated and the party is in swing, he notices something.

“Is the food not to your liking, [First]?” He inquires as politely as possible, softening his tone to make it sound less accusatory.

You fluster, waving a hand. “Not at all. I’m just not that hungry right now.”

He decides to leave it, because it’s not as if it’s wrong, per se, if the guest wasn’t eating. He recalls Ace’s previous words to him.

“Housewarden, you really should loosen up a bit! Otherwise you’re gonna end up being a killjoy!”

He may be many things, but he is not a killjoy! Just because he was particular about certain things doesn’t mean he didn’t know how to let go.

But something feels off.

Then he realizes that while the conversation is flowing as usual, you are hardly speaking at all. You only speak when directly spoken to, and even then, it’s short, clipped responses.

He watches incredulously as you pour yourself a cup of tea and then drink it.

The golden scepter materializes in his hand as easily as breathing.

Everyone else reacts explosively, looking alarmed at the scene unfolding. Meanwhile, you merely stare blankly at the end of the scepter nearly several inches from your nose.

"Riddle, hold the phone, what are you doing?!" He barely hears Cater's frantic voice to his left. He's too focused on the way that…that thing is not reacting at all.

"You. Where is [First]?"

It's silent for a moment, and then a disturbing crooked grin breaks out from its poker face. It starts cackling loudly and it makes his blood start boiling.

"Start speaking or it's off with your head!" He screeches, scepter shaking uncontrollably in his hands.

"Boo, I was hoping you guys were stupid enough to fall for it.” The thing taunts, leaning back in their chair.

Red fills his vision. How dare this thing use your visage and breath such vile words? Before he could register it, his arm swipes across. By the time his eyes clear and his breathing steadies, he's staring at a decapitated body that is mangled beyond repair.

It takes another moment to realize he is not the only one who has raised their magical pen.

Trey is at his right, golden eyes dark as Riddle realizes he positioned himself to shield him. Cater mirrors Trey, but his arms are visibly shaking and his eyes keep switching from him to the broken body on the trimmed lawn. Ace and Deuce had positioned themselves to the backside, but they too, barely seem to be holding themselves together, clenched fists at the ready for physical blows.

“What…” he breathes, “is going on?”

The only answer he gets is the wind whistling through the grass blades.

He collapses to his knees as he fumbles with a body that has been torn asunder, but instead of flesh and bones, he only finds clay and chipped resin.

“What have we done?”

#yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst #yandere heartslabyul #my works #if this gets good reception i'll have a easier time of writing part 2

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hughesyodaddy43 · 24 days

Text

you're gonna be okay ⎸ J.H

Jack Hughes x Reader synopsis : when Jack loses a big game, he comes over to seek support from his favourite person. word count: 1.5k warnings: sad jack, fluff, angst? Authors note: I have more fanfics coming soon, i have a range of them pre -planned with covers and titles and I read everyones request so if i don't get to yours then it's because i already have a story planned for that player or request. I hope you like this one :)

I slumped down on my bed, easily immersing myself in the world of fiction, every now and then munching on the bowl of popcorn I had sitting beside me. Jack was playing for team USA tonight so I was waiting patiently for him to message me that the game ended so we could call or hang out. Something about these big games excited me, not for the sport but for the post game interviews.

It was nice to watch the interviews and read through the comments as if you couldn't just ask Jack the same questions yourself and actually get real and honest answers.

You didn't know the final score yet so you went on youtube to see if a post game interview was up and you were met with the prettiest blue puppy dog eyes you've ever seen, but you knew jack and this was definitely not gonna be a happy interview. You click on the video and are met with a saddened Jack on the verge of tears, your heart aches for him as you listen to his answers; you were mad that they would interview a 17year old on the verge of tears and still ask the most idiotic questions.

I only made it about 5 minutes into the video before I got a message on my phone.

Jack 💘: I’m outside.

Okay, coming down now.

I walk down towards the front door and see a dishevelled jack peering back at me.

“Hi. Can I come in?” The young hockey player asks while twirling with his fingers.

“Of course” I answer, slightly smiling at him as I move my body so he can slip past me.

He walks through my doorway and up towards my room, I trail behind him closely up until he reaches my bed and slumps down on it , exhaustion evident on his face as he looks up at me standing in the doorway. “Are you okay?” I asked quietly, not wanting to make him feel worse, though judging by the way his lip quivered and his head shook, I'm not sure that was the right decision.

“We lost” he says just above a whisper

“Hm?” I walked closer to him and sat beside him, reaching over to hold his hand that he was fiddling with in his lap. “We lost the game, we lost everything” he states, audible this time.

“Oh. well it’s okay-” "NO ITS NOT OKAY” Jack yells, standing up and turning to face me, running his hands through his freshly washed hair. “It's not okay, I let my team down, I let my parents down, I've let everyone down and I'm so tired” he rants on, quieting down towards the end.

“Hey, hey . It is okay, alright? Just because you've lost this game, doesn't mean you've lost everything"

"yes it does, you have no idea what it's like to lose something like this. You don't have to worry about making sure you end up drafted. You'll never know.” ' Jack replies quickly, raising his voice once again

“you havent lost everything,i know it feels like it and i know you’re upset. But please don’t start yelling at me when I'm just trying to help you.'' He looks at me after I say this, tears filling up his eyes.

“You’re right, im sorry. I shouldn't have yelled at you, I'm just so angry at myself, I could've played better , we could've won but I let everyone down." I stand up and walk in front of him

“Hockey is a team sport, Jack. One loss isn't your fault, besides all hockey players lose big games, even the best of the best.” Jack doesn't reply, instead he just nods his head and wipes a falling tear from his cheek.

“You’re an amazing player Jack, anyone can see that. You played well, and so did everyone else. Losses happen, it wouldn't be competitive if nobody lost.” He nods again, looking down at the ground.

I sigh before continuing “why don't we just lay down and watch a movie?hm?” i ask

The boy sniffles before nodding, replying with a light yeah as he makes his way back over to my bed. He sits against the headboard and watches me as I sit down and open my laptop. Stupidly i forgot to close the youtube tab i had opened from his interview and there it was, my boys said face displayed on my computer. I look over at Jack, he stares at the screen then back at me.

“Sorry, i usually watch your post game interviews” i apologise.``its okay, i think its cute you watch my interviews” he smiles lightly at me, his beautiful smile that i didnt think i'd see tonight was there on display “what can i say? You're just too hard to resist” I joke, gaining a light chuckle from the boy before fixing my eyes back to the screen so we can pick something to watch.

“Do you really think everything will be okay?” Jack asks in a mumble. “Mhm, you're gonna be okay” Jack leans up to face me “i'm gonna be okay” he repeats “you’re gonna be okay” i reply before he leans in and presses his soft lips on mine, we pull away and jack returns to his previous position, snuggling his face into my neck. “Goodnight, Jack. Love you” i say softly “mm night, love you too y/nn” jack replies before swiftly drifting off to a much needed sleep.

I wrap my arms around Jack in a warm embrace, sinking down into the pillows and pulling the blanket up higher. Light snores are audible from the boy as he leans into my touch, even when he's sleeping, he still manages to tighten his arms around me, lightly rubbing circles on my skin from where my shirt rolled up. I play with his hair while allowing my eyes to grow heavy and fall into a peaceful slumber. Comfortable with the outcome of this otherwise devastating night

#nhl hockey #jack hughes #fluff #nhl imagine #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes x y/n

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popponn · 2 months

Note

Hihi, im the same anon that loves ur page!!

the froggys are seriously silly :)

Anyways, can i request some hcs abt bllk boys with a reader who's going thru a depressive episode? im just goin thru stuff rn, if u can't its fine.

So, hows ur day been?

I hope you're well

have a great day! <33

byebye💖

notes: anonnie;;; i hope you are feeling better when you finally read this;;; this took so long, im sorry. i have been busy and there are lot of things going on, but i am fine thank you for asking :> and hey, a depressive episode could be tough. but you got this! okay? try to take it slow and step by step, drink water, eat food, and move around a bit. a light walk or a stretch is okay. like how the clouds always change, things will change. i hope reading this could give you a little happiness, especially when you need it.

isagi

if you are looking for someone who will listen and give practical advice without dismissing your feelings or concerns, honestly he is the one. especially as a boyfriend, you can trust him to be the one who will sit beside you on the sofa while wrapping you in the blanket. will ask you what you want to eat and the moment you decide to fight the cold hard life back, don’t worry, your isagi yoichi will be your #1 supporter! especially if you guys have spent more time in the relationship, he really is good at balancing giving comfort while still giving you trust to walk on your own. though he sometimes couldn’t 100% understand your point of view, but the sincerity in his effort to be always there for you is no joke. he promised every part of him he could give to you and he means every word of it.

bachira

who hurt his baby—he will fight it. somehow. he has this odd sixth sense when it comes to you. just with a glance, he will immediately get how down you feel and what you need. a joke and a cheer up along with many kisses? coming right up. a listener who will hug you like a koala? do you want to do that while cuddling in the bed or in public in front of his friends because he won’t hesitate honestly. just say what you want—if he must eat a cake messily like 5 year old to make you laugh then so be it. will get you out for recreation the moment he could and if he couldn’t that means it’s time for his creativity to shine (and boy does it always shine). but if the one that makes you feel down is someone, bachira is not one for violence but he could you know. if you want. (please stop him.)

rin

if you don’t cry, at best he will be an awkward listener—but a good listener nonetheless. if you cry, though, honestly he will panic. this guy is already not good with his own emotions, so you need to be clear about what you want with him. he is not the best with words though, and advice he offers is usually either “let me just fix this for you” or a straight up detached, objective one that is better offered to someone with a cool head and controlled emotion. therefore, more often than not, he opts to just listen and hold your hand. he will try to help, though, and if he can’t—at the very least you will get a really menacing guard dog who won’t let anyone mess with you while you are trying to get up. (also, go tell him to buy something. his credit card is ready and feeling like he is doing something for you is good for the both of you.)

sae

itoshi gene is harsh and he is somehow worse than his brother in this scenario. he is a naturally critical person towards anything. if you are ready to get your fault pointed out and think up a “what can i do to make this better or avoid this from happening again” go to him, but if you are looking for someone who will listen or give validation, as much as you love him, don’t. him and a terrible headspace is not a good combination. however, a direct “can you hug me?” or a “can you do something for me?” is not completely out of the question—he, after all, still cares about you. high chance he won’t ask, especially if you said you don’t want to say anything, but in this situation the softer part of him who has a hard time saying no to you truly comes out. a movie night, even if it involves the goddamned fries, would happen. he is smart enough to know when to spoil you, especially since he knows your habits and tendencies by heart.

kunigami

the sort of person who sees a hint of gloom on your face and immediately cradles it with a tenderness that no one would expect from someone with his build. he is a good, caring person by nature, if you are looking for someone to help you, he is the best choice. he can be clumsy sometimes and the words he gives to cheer you up have a high chance of being uttered with a lot of pauses in the middle—but the way he acts will probably be enough to bring a smile to your face again (and he will also smile along with you when this happen because by god you are his happiness). all those aside, high chance he can’t give advice, but he will give you top-notch cheering up—words, actions, cuddles, everything—along with genuine validation. (especially after wild card, he has seen hell. “feeling terrible” is something he understands a lot.)

kaiser

for this one i won’t sugarcoat it: jesus christ. why. is there no one else?

jokes aside, as i love to bully him a bit here, objectively—this really depends on the sort of type of person you are. if you are looking for advice or validation or a listener—not him. but if you are the sort of person who prefers a distraction or the “tough love” sort of motivation that is more scathing and heartless—borderline degrading—he is the one. out of spite, his words are probably enough to spur you into action, forgetting whatever blue feeling you have as it has turned into a red raging anger. however, a little note, believe it or not, this actually comes from a caring place in his heart. kaiser is someone with many, many harsh edges—and this comes more from “i rather see you angry and living than seeing you down without me being able to do anything” root that he rather die than say out loud.

nagi

the best you could get is a passive listener. worse you can get is a passive listener who still plays games. the worst you can get is that one scene where isagi has a legitimate concern and gets his hair pulled by this guy. another one who is better to have as a company in seeking distraction for the time than anything. but, despite how admittedly terrible he is in cheering you up with words, he truly makes it up by action when it finally hits him how down and different you are. it will take a few hours or a few days, but he will get there. afterward, expect many small sweet gestures ranging from cute gifts, your favorite snacks, et cetera. your chatroom with him will too suddenly get noisy with many cute stickers and “u ok? :x” for at least a few weeks. (also he is shameless enough to ask out loud to his teammates about what should he do with you when he realizes how stuck he is. so hey. there is that: possible extra brains if you need a solution.)

reo

common knowledge that he never shies away from using that money of his when he needs to and this is one of those situations where he genuinely considers taking you away for a trip so you can feel better near a sunny beach or a peaceful lake—you pick. if you don’t want that, however, this guy is still the best when it comes to understanding you and will be there until you give him a smile. what else do you expect from someone with a complete set of love languages? do watch out though, he is also someone who could get angry pretty quickly, especially when it involves something or someone he cares about—and this time it’s you. on a brighter note, though, this means if you are looking for someone to shit talk with, he is the one. he is a smart caring boyfriend, so talking with him during this time will do a lot of good to you. a good advice along with good validation.

bonus round:

barou — has this very awkward and unique way of cheering you up by getting you to clean the house along with him (and somehow he is less strict with you this time) and then cooking for you after; somehow always works like a charm. yukimiya — do you know all those shoujo manga perfect handsome famous sporty smart boyfriends? this is it. coming to you live. chigiri — shit-talking session that will soon move on to a pep talk that will give you every bit of confidence and drive you to need. a best friend and a boyfriend in one package. one of the people who truly knows and understands how despairing an overwhelming situation could be. karasu — will he tease you a bit like a meanie to distract you, ironically? yes. but if you need an advisor to brainstorm the best possible solution he is also the one.

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niconebula · 11 months

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I’m currently writing a college essay on the representation of Witches (and all Magical Girls) in Madoka Magica; I don’t know if I will be able to include this within the limits of the project so I wanted to share to Tumblr instead. It does not seem to be widely understood how much yonic imagery there is in the series and how important that is to the intended message.

For starters Kyubey is a walking uterus. The name of his species is literally Incubator (an enclosed apparatus providing a controlled environment for the care and protection of premature or unusually small babies; an apparatus used to hatch eggs or grow microorganisms under controlled conditions). He creates egg-shaped Soul Gems, and deposits the Grief Seeds back into his little receptacle. Why does he have such a weird design with two sets of ears? The lower ‘ears’ with the separated ends are actually modelled off of what Fallopian Tubes look like.

(Funny diagram but. It’s true! I’ll come back to this point at the end).

So then take this scene (thank god someone reuploaded it to YouTube):

youtube

“And you think a shit-for-brains hoe is going to be making that much in ten years? That body ain’t gonna last forever, you know.” “And then you dump ‘em, and they get all whiny!”

These two men are talking about the short term relationships they have with women, using them for their bodies and treating them like shit, and then dumping them immediately after - not understanding or caring as to how this upsets them.

It consistently baffles me how many people will completely throw out feminist readings of Madoka Magica. ‘Readings’ shouldn’t even be used - this is the main text of the goddamn show! You are free to argue that it failed at its message, or that the application was problematic, but for this scene in particular to fly over your head makes me discount opinions immediately.

Anyway, where have we heard this rhetoric before? “That body ain’t gonna last forever” - a young Magical Girl is always destined to turn into the Wicked Witch. “When you dump em’, they get all whiny!” - it is a Magical Girl at the peak of her despair who turns into a Witch, and Kyubey cannot and does not care for their human emotion.

The men cycle through their ‘hoes’ like Kyubey cycles through Magical Girls to get whatever his species supposedly needs to continue the universe.

I’m going to cut a break here for TW discussions of metaphorical rape and pregnancy involving minors, but this portion of the post is important.

Kyubey completely violates the concept of informed consent when he creates his magical girls - though he always argues that he did ask, and it’s in fact their fault (as fourteen year old girls) to not ask further questions.

Taking his form as a uterus alongside the yonic imagery of the show, it is implied that Kyubey has in some way ‘raped’ the girls. This is most evident in Sayaka’s arc; her insistence that becoming a Magical Girl has made her spoiled and that Kyousuke wouldn’t want to even kiss a girl like her.

Their transformations into witches further the idea that they have been ‘spoiled’, but also symbolize their transformation into adult women. Women who are ‘too adult’, and whose bodies are no longer attractive or useful to create babies anymore.

Goddess Madoka is even depicted as pregnant in the full Magia ending.

I feel like you could reason within all this symbolism that there’s a metaphor for specifically the coerced pregnancy and mothership of women. Something often considered the ‘ideal state’ for women and as you will see many conservatives argue, the necessary thing to continue society. In their minds, the subjugation of anyone they assign as women to these roles is necessary for society as they know it to continue for the imaginary people of the future who do not even exist yet.

Kyubey refers to the Magical Girls as cattle. He is there to help incubate and hatch the witch, and then throw the magical girl to the dust afterwards as she dies no longer useful. These girls are sacrifices to a far-off future that Kyubey promises them, he tells them that if no Magical Girls existed to hatch into Witches, humanity would not last long enough to see itself to the stars.

The incubator and his design, the soul gems and grief seeds, the pregnant madoka, the discussions about men liking their eggs a particular way by their homeroom teacher, it’s all very consistent. I’m not sure if my prospective readers have ever considered this within Madoka Magica - but try seeing it from this angle.

I didn’t find a way to work this into the post, but in addition: take the ancient myth of the wandering womb. This was the belief that so called over-emotional women were suffering from a condition where their uterus was moving in ways all across their bodies. It morphed into the more modern usage of female hysteria; hysteria coming from hystera- the Greek word for uterus. Kyubey thinks of the girls as constantly overreacting and overemotional. Hysterical.

#pmmm #madoka magica #posts made without proofreading #I trust in peoples reading comprehension ability to not take this as a trans exclusionary post #and if you think I’m reading too much into it idk what to tell ya just move on

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firewhiskykiss · 11 months

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detailed fluffy/smutty headcannons! draco malfoy as your boyfriend.

i’m writing this as a continuation of “ive got my eye on you”, and sooort of requested by @dolcid. i’ll hopefully write a proper part two soon but for now here are some detailed, fluffy bf!draco headcannons to keep you satisfied. ive thrown some smuttys hcs in as well, so you really get the picture (i love reading headcannons so i hope you’re as pleased with this as i am!) <3

WARNINGS! SEXUAL CONTENT. SMUT. 18+

malfoy is a really good boyfriend. you’ve never had one before though so you can’t compare him to much :(

the way he confessed to you was really impressive though (and really turned you on! drunk kisses > )

he gets better and better at kissing every time you do it. he’s not very emotional but he’s passionate, if that makes sense?

when you’re kissing he doesnt administer alot of touch himself but he loves it when you touch him. he lets you run your hands all over his chest, it makes him groan.

when he DOES touch you, its usually your thighs.

despite all the kissing, he’s actually very cautious about going any further with you, because he knows you’ve never been fucked by anyone before. in the first few weeks, he sticks to hot makeout sessions with you.

he used to tease you for being ugly when you disliked eachother, he never meant it, by the damage it did to your confidence meant you never pursued a relationship before him so you’re really a virgin in every aspect. (slay tho <3)

draco doesn’t do dates really. he likes to keep you all to himself, he’s selfish like that. so he usually invites you to the slytherin common room, and takes you up to his dorm.

he banishes the goons from the dorm to spend time with you because he knows they make you uneasy.

he really cherishes quality time over anything, that’s his love language. he doesn’t have to be kissing you the whole time, sitting beside you whilst you read is enough for him. he’s enamoured with your presence.

he’s always been enamoured with your presence, even when he pretended to hate you.

draco is quite a grumpy boyfriend. not mean. just moody. he doesnt like other people. he especially doesnt like harry potter. or anything about any of the gryffindors. you pay it no heed, you just find it cute.

he takes things further one day and you let him eat you out. he doesnt do this alot. hes mostly a receiver.

he’s really dirty when he wants to be, its the fault of his smirk, it makes him look even dirtier.

draco is heavy on the dirty talking and teasing, after all your relationship begun because of his unremitting teasing.

so when he’s licking your pussy, he’s doing it whilst smirking and cooing annoyingly because of how red your face is going.

he gets really hard because its his first time going further than kissing with you. youre the first girl that hes had feelings for as well, so it makes it unreal for him. he gets so hard he has to ask you to suck his dick.

he doesnt beg you though! his voice is cool and nonchalant like it always is.

instead of cumming in your mouth, he comes all over your pussy because he likes how it looks.

when you two finish, he isn’t one for cuddling, but he lets you lay beside him in his arm, and fall asleep on his chest.

when its time for you to go back to your dorm, he folds all of your things up for you, stacks all of your books. hes weirdly a neat-freak.

when you aren’t hanging out on his bed, you’re watching his quidditch games.

one day he has a bad fall and ends up in the hospital wing, with his arm in a sling. typical draco!

he’s a hypochondriac lol!

you drop your studies to sit with him. he grumbles profusely about the pain and the sling. he loves complaining.

you shut him up by kissing him, which makes his expression harden because you two werent public about your relationship yet. but you dont care.

when he’s injured in hospital he lets you groom his hair for him. he cares alot about his appearance. its a frequent occurance. because hes not one for skinship its how you feel close to him.

he warms to the idea of cuddling a bit, but when he does he prefers to be spooned rather than spoon you. and he always does it under the blanket so no one could accidentally see.

he’s a tall, protective boyfriend. he usually wards “threats” away with rude, witty comments, or dirty looks. he doesnt care. you’re his.

when you’re in public, he stands behind you w his hands on your shoulders so he can protect you at all times if he needs to.

he gradually becomes more comfortable being emotional around you. not emotional as in sad or cloying but. he smiles more. not big cheeky smiles, but small ones you notice when you catch him off gaurd.

he kisses you alot before bed, you start sleeping over in his bed in the slytherin dorm, you get away with it because he becomes a prefect.

he kisses the top of your head and your hands/fingertips the most. you’re precious to him, that’s how he conveys it.

after a few weeks of sleeping in his bed, he makes the ultimate move on you and fucks you for the first time. “making-love” is a bit cringe in dracos opinion, he is draco malfoy after all. but it isnt senseless fucking.

he loves the power imbalance of you getting onto your knees for him and sucking his dick. like i said, hes a receiver!

he puts his big, pale hand in your hair and bounces it harshly on his dick. he doesnt make you choke on it though, he doesnt like that.

he actually doesnt fuck you in his bed, the first time. you both get so carried away that he takes you against the wall. from all angles. behind. from the front.

it’s rough, desperate fucking. youve never been fucked before. its such a new and overwhelming feeling. youve been pining for eachother for so long.

he cums all over your pretty pussy again, but not inside it (obvs) and admires it for a while whilst catching his breath.

you start crying after! it was such an intense experience that you get a bit… worried? overwhelmed? it’s not serious crying but you need some softness.

draco isn’t always the best person to rely on for softness but he knows that you need it right now after the way he’d just fucked you.

you cuddle properly for the first time. all naked and sticky (draco HATES that, but he doesnt mind tonight bc its you) and he kisses your head over and over.

hes not big on aftercare usually. but hes patient with you tonight. he lets you sleep off the feeling, and wear his big, boxy school shirt whilst you do so. it smells of him. you love it.

you love him.

he loves you too, hes thinking.

but you don’t tell each other just yet ;)

#draco malfoy #draco x you #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter x you #draco fic #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x you #draco x reader #harry potter

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inkskinned · 2 years

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but you couldn't, like, see a gay person kissing.

it was alright that i had been catcalled at 12 years old. it was alright that i had been followed and groped at 15. it was okay men were leery and treacherous. it was okay when a man asked me my age and when i said 18, he said, that age is my favorite.

don't you like feeling sexy? i love action movies, but i often have an internal tally of how often a camera will begin at someone's hips and travel to her face only as if by accident. weirdly, you can't show too-much asscrack in the same movie, even if it was the style in the nineties. sort of only apply a tasteful sprinkling of asscrack.

i am wearing a body type that is very easily sexualized. it's a compliment, you'll miss it. it is not his fault, i am told - and then usually with this assurance, someone will compare me to an object. i am, by the way, not using "i become an object" metaphorically. well, you wouldn't wear a precious watch in a dangerous city - i am the watch, in this situation. can you blame a thief for taking a jewel if it was just left out in the open? i think my personhood is the jewel, but sometimes also it is pain. a dog sees a steak. i like this one because it does refer to men as dogs, even if it does literally compare me to a piece of meat (which is, you know, somehow worse than being a dog. at least call me a bitch, babe).

it's inappropriate to show two men kissing, but it's totally normal to hear that "best" age for childbirth is 15. (it's not, by the way. try 20's & 30's. do your fucking reading). and on tv - let's cut from a murder mystery where a woman is shown brutally bloodied, carved into pieces (only pg-13) into a tampon commercial where she runs around, happy and fluttering, refusing to use the word period, white pants abounding. periods: gross, icky. violence, though, is just a gendered currency.

so it's like - you say "can we please treat women like they're people and stop cutting their heads off in advertisements" and then it's like. no actually we needed that woman's bellybutton to sell drain fluid don't like it don't look. and you say "can you please not make every latin person a drug dealer holy shit" and they're like. unfortunately if we don't make the latin person a drug dealer we literally will go rabid. and you say "okay can we at least agree you super don't need to use racist epithets why is this even a conversation we're still having" and they're like. actually my child is a make-a-wish kid and his only wish was that i get to use words that make your skin crawl and if you don't let me use the words it's because you love cancer don't you.

so it's kind of a lost cause. because when something is complicated even a little bit, you find yourself trying to explain that the solution isn't make women cover up, it's that the idea "sexualization of nonconsenting parties is wrong" can also hold hands with the idea "not every expression of fondness is sexual in nature, nor is nonhegemonic sexual expression somehow more inflammatory or inappropriate than its counterpart"- and both of those ideas can also hold hands with "the male gaze is rarely censored despite the massive amounts of societal harm it imposes." but like, that's a big thought. let's just slap "pg-13" on the movie because they actually use the word lesbian. and let's cross our fingers and hope no kid figures out they're lgbt+ before college - otherwise they have access to literally no resources, since even google will censor the results in case they're pornographic. now, if you wanted to know how to hide a body...

when i was a kid i used to keep my eyes on my toes while walking past bra stores, feeling uncomfortable. it was gross to look at ladies, i knew that much. the way the women were posed was... not for me. not even for the people shopping. it was weird. i don't think anyone actually there-for-the-product was like yeah this is inspiring.

and i remember in high school my friends and i were still talking about how uncomfortable we felt in victoria's secret, shuffling our way out into the new england chill. little yellow leaves around our feet. a guy held the door open for us. a few seconds later, he jogged up after us. we were so startled we turned to look. "sorry," he said. "i just wanted to ask how old you all are." we were young then, so we lied and told him we were older. we'd talk about this later - we all thought maybe one of us had dropped our wallet or something. he smiled dolefully. "i just wanted to say you all are fucking beautiful. you have amazing tits on you."

sometimes i wonder. what if one fraction of the effort they put into making sure no gay thing ever occurs onscreen just went into controlling and educating their own fucking population. now wouldn't that be something.

#this is all over the place #im still recovering from nona #this doesn't make sense #i think what im saying is #fuck censorship #friendly reminder the hays code was LITERALLY created to appease nazis :)

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tokkishouse · 1 year

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heyyy, okay so I read the cute lil Tighnari post and I died a lil (a lot actually, it was so cute pls my heart can't take it) If you have the time could you pls post more abt him 👁👁

I physically need more of that man, it doesn't really matter if it's sfw or nsfw or both. I just need more posts on this man or I will fall over and die 🛐

You 🤝 Me --> Needing more Tighnari content Say no more babes.

(Sfw) Tighnari as a Boyfriend

Characters: Tighnari x GN!Reader

Warnings: Slightly suggestive, subtle yandere themes

WC: 0.8k words

Fennec foxes mate for life. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. Tighnari is loyal to a fault. Some of the villagers and even fellow rangers may try to woo him, but his eyes are focused on you and you alone

This also applies in the opposite direction-- if anyone flirts with you, he's by your side and growling at the offender, canines bared and ready to bite. Poor Al-Haitham got a bit of a shock when an off-handed, semi-flirtatious statement earned him a bone-chilling glare from Tighnari and the feeling of claws around his neck. Please give this man all of your attention

Gets very excited if you groom his ears and tails-- he likes to keep them nice and presentable for you and what better way to do that than to have you preen as you see fit?

Speaking of grooming-- if you do a particularly favorable job at it, he'll purr. Idc if foxes cant purr, Tighnari can. It's barely audible, trading sound for power as it's strong enough to be felt all over your body. Once he's purring you've won-- you could ask him anything and he'll probably say yes to it

Always brings you something from his expeditions-- from flowers to unique plants and strange creatures-- as long as he's vetted it to be safe, Tighnari will bring it home for you to keep. His tail curls up in anxiety as he watches you carefully inspect the gifts he brings home, but it always relaxes when he sees your delighted smile and you look at him with such adoration keep your eyes only on him

Speaking of his tail, it's the biggest indicator of his mood. If it's still, he's either in a neutral state or very focused. If it's swaying back and forth, he's calm and perhaps happy-- the faster it sways the happier he is. If it drags behind him on the floor like it has no life, he's upset. And if it curls up very tightly he may be a tad excited.

It also naturally seeks you out. If you stand next to him, it automatically wraps itself around your leg, waist, or just all over your body. You're familiar and safe, and it's a way of staying as close and connected to you as possible. It does make for some unfortunate moments when one of you decides to move abruptly, tugging the poor thing hard and lightly spraining it.

He will lecture you if you get in trouble or hurt yourself, but not out of anger-- only frustration and worry. He loves you very dearly and he doesn't want to think of a world without you. Tighnari's lectures are just another way of him expressing his concern for you and your safety. This also means that before you go anywhere, even if it's down the road to a local merchant, he'll make sure you have an emergency pack fully stocked. He can't have you tripping over a root and injuring yourself, and without anything to self-treat, now can he?

The cooler seasons are the best time to cuddle with him-- the fur on his ears and tail get slightly thicker to adjust to the falling temperatures, which makes sleeping curled up against the tail all the more comforting. Its extra warmth makes cool breezes and nightly chills a thing of the past.

While he does have a nickname or two for you, he doesn't call you by it often. Saying your name is loving as it is-- it's your name. It carries the weight of your history and how far you've come-- who you are. To him, that is the most precious thing and every time he says your name, all that information floods his brain as he conjures up the image of you, his lovely partner. During more sappy and romantic moments though, he will throw in a nickname for you here and there.

He may tease and be sarcastic with you, but if you express your discomfort, he'll stop immediately. However, if you can match his snarkiness and shoot back your own witty retorts, you'll have him completely ensnared. An off-handed comment turns into a full-blown snark fest with neither of you willing to give up until you leave the other completely stumped. It makes those around you either annoyed or amused. After all, anyone that can keep up with Tighnari's wit is sure to make a worthy opponent.

All in all, Tighnari is a very caring boyfriend with his own quirks. If you're lucky enough to be chosen by him, you'll have quite the satisfactory relationship-- one that only inspires joy and free love. Just be mindful not to set off one of his more fox-like instincts. It often can get...messy.

Requests (both sfw and nsfw) are open~! If you want a nsfw version of this lmk

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact tighnari x reader #genshin impact tighnari #genshin headcanons #tighnari fluff #tighnari x reader fluff #tighnari headcanons #tighnari x reader #tokki writes

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h4venpha · 10 months

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↳ “𝐈 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖, 𝐈𝐓𝐒 𝐎𝐊𝐀𝐘.” — vash the stampede

CW: angst, hurt and comfort, blood, bullet wound, mentions of panic attacks, slight implications of self harm, slight dissociation (like barely but just incase), a little more tristamp vash coded

pulled this out of my ass in 30 mins, i really enjoy writing vash angst i apologize

you frown silently as vash hisses in pain. blood running down his tense forearm as you finally pull the bullet from his shoulder. you can see his jaw unclench as the pain eases just a little.

“there, it’s out.” you say quietly as you drop it into the trash can left of the sink, a solid clank sounding out into the hotel bathroom as it hits the bottom. when you turn back towards vash, he’s leaning against the sink counter, watching the crimson blood make its way over his wrist and into his palm.

vash’s eyes start to unfocus and his breathing becomes unsteady. his blond hair cast over his face as he looks down, yet you can read him so clearly. and he’s either about to have a breakdown or go into a panic attack.

you reach forward with your clean hand and take his jaw in your hand, redirecting him to look at you. and he does, it just takes a few seconds to register your face. when he does, you can see his eyebrows twitch downwards.

“you did what you could, okay? she’ll be alright.” you say softly, referring to the little girl from earlier that he saved. luckily she left the scene with only a few gashes on her arms and legs. yet vash, with a bullet wound and a darkening spot under his eye, still feels guilt eating away at him inside.

“i should’ve grabbed her faster. the moment i saw that guy get up, i should’ve-“ vash blurts out.

“hey. it’s over. he’s being taken care of at the sheriff’s and the girl is fine— you saw her with her mother earlier, right?” you say calmly. you were trying not to throw vash into a breakdown. you could tell he was being raw and vulnerable right now, even though he couldn’t look at you, it was written all over his face.

as soon as the blood trickles down to his fingers, vash is staring down at it. the dark red against his peachy white skin. unconsciously, he rubs it with his thumb, feeling the wetness of it on his finger pads. vash clenches his fist and looks at you with hard eyes. none of his public act, his usual bright personality completely gone. yet you don’t waver.

“you don’t understand,” vash grumbles, his harsh woods rooted in frustration, “you don’t understand at all, i— i could’ve— should’ve stepped in front of her earlier.” he says louder, and you can’t tell if hes scolding you, or himself. “it’s my fault any of that— that happened— it’s my fault! someone was hurt because of me!” his voice is breaking and you swear there’s a tear running down his cheek. you can’t quite tell by the dim bathroom light.

you sigh as vash raises his voice in front of you. it wasn’t something he did very often —to anyone as a matter of a fact— yet when he did, you knew how to handle it. he’s in a bad headspace: his breathing is starting to pick up and his hands begin to shake a little. when he roughly swipes his bloodied fist over his face to wipe his tears away, is when you step in.

you take his hand in yours, his blood smearing on your palm but you don’t care. on the verge of a break down, whenever he balls up his fists, you can tell he’s close to taking his anger out on himself. with a hurt look on your face, you slowly intertwine your fingers with his.

“you know i don’t like it when you talk about yourself like that.” you whisper quietly as you lean in a little closer to him

“i… mmh,” vash holds his tongue, eyes softening, your words hitting him like a truck. you’ve told him this before and he knows it.

a small frown on your face, you reach up with your clean hand and wipe the tears and the smear of red off his face. you squeeze his hand softly in yours.

“it hurts me to hear you say those things about yourself. i… i know you’re not feeling well right now— i know you feel guilty but…” you choose your words carefully, “but, i want you to know that it’s okay. it’s okay, and you’re okay.” you say softly, stroking his cheek with your thumb. vash stays silent.

“you’ve done more than you think, and i know you’ll never believe me, but i’m proud of you. of— of what you do and what you believe in. but i just wish you’d give yourself a little more credit… okay?”

god and vash’s heart aches. your words shoot straight through him and he feels his skin is on fire. he feels himself caving in, both mentally and physically. vash drops forward and onto your shoulder, his hands finding their place around the small of your back.

it is true, the guilt was indeed eating him up inside. your words hit him where it hurts, where he needs it to hurt. if you say he’s okay then… he’ll believe you. it’ll be okay just for a little bit, just for tonight to be a little bit selfish.

you close your eyes as you feel him finally relax, his tired body slumped against yours. you wrap an arm around his waist as your other reaches up to pet his head, fingers gently coaxing his hair. you can feel him crying, its silent, but you’re glad he’s letting it out. hunched back hiccuping and shaking as his tears soak into the cloth of your shirt.

so you stand there, eyes closed as vash leans himself on you. you let him relax into your hold, letting him forget about his burdens and responsibilities for a little while. you hold him up when he needs it most, and he couldn’t be more grateful.

vash stops crying after a little while, just short, huffed-out breaths every now and then. he picks up his head from your shoulder and pulls back to look at you. his eyes are red and a little bit puffy, but theres this faint, real smile on his face. he doesn’t have to say anything for you to understand: i’m sorry. thank you.

vash cups your face with his clean hand, mimicking just like how you did for him. he closes the space swiftly. his lips meeting your welcoming ones as he gently caresses your face. vash kisses you softly, unspoken words passing through his mouth on yours with ease.

vash pulls back slowly just to rest his forehead on yours, his breathing turned even and calm.

“i’m sorry, i got my blood on you.” vash apologizes quietly, pulling back his hand from your back, a sheepish look on his face knowing there’s a blotch of blood on your shirt.

without hesitation, you press his hand back against your body and connect your lips with his again. “i know, it’s okay.”

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bbyseok · 1 year

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his shadow

pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader

cw: pro hero au, bakugou n reader are both pro heroes, gender neutral reader, mention of death, self-depreciation, angst- so much angst, but there’s comfort too !!

analysis: you mess up on the job, and you mess up badly. and even though bakugou tries to help you find solace, you’ll never be as good as him—always in his shadow.

an: i almost wrapped this up with a sad ending so you’re lucky i changed my mind.. i got too emotional and decided to end it with comfort,, enjoy everyone !!

———

anyone who knew bakugou knew that he’d make a name for himself. and he has—he’s one of the top pro heroes in japan who prides himself on his work he does. the center of the stage, with the spotlight on him. it’s like he was destined for greatness.

and somehow, you had gotten swept along.

loving katsuki isn’t the easiest thing to do. he’s a little rough around the edges and emotionally constipated. that, paired with the dangerous work you both do.

yes, you’re also a pro hero. not as well known as bakugou, a little low on the charts, but you’re satisfied with the job—saving people is the most important thing above all.

despite all these trials, you made it work. loving him isn’t easy, but it’s enough. you smooth out his roughness and teach him the tender things of life. he shows you a side that makes your heart flutter.

you have katsuki all to yourself at times. his vulnerability, his love, his everything—the way he holds you with gentle hands that he uses everyday to defeat villains and criminals.

and yet, the oh so great explosion murder god dynamight is someone who people marvel and fawn over for sure, no matter what. that’s out of the question. and with his spotlight, he also casts an unbearable shadow.

a shadow you drown in.

the brightness of your laptop is glaring at you. a stupid news article is displayed on your screen; its bold headliner words are simple but taunting, mocking.

DYNAMIGHT’S PRO HERO SPOUSE FAILS TO SAVE THREE LIVES DURING CONSTRUCTION ACCIDENT.

fuck.

it had been a slip, a mistake. you hadn’t judged the falling of the debris as fast as you should’ve, you hadn’t heard the last desperate cry of the workers at least once. the article is right, so right that it’s unbearable. you had failed.

those people counted on you to save them and you had failed them and their families. it’s all your fault, undoubtedly, and all eyes are on you because of it.

the awful, creeping feeling of guilt is making your head spin. but the words of the headline make it even worse. dynamight’s spouse. this isn’t the first time news reports use that title instead of your actual hero name, or your name in general. it’s always dynamight’s this, dynamight’s that. dynamight’s side piece. dynamight’s.

you don’t mind being bakugou’s. you’re his and he’s yours.

but his shadow swallows you whole until there’s nothing left. absolutely nothing left, and until you’re nothing without him. you’re nothing without bakugou katsuki, without dynamight in the hero world.

his shadow arches over your accomplishments and feeds your failures—you’d never be as great as him, wouldn’t be worthy enough for him just like this article title says. you’d never meet his standard, his greatness that comes with even a mention of his name. you had failed for god’s sake.

the sound of the front door opening abruptly yanks you out of your.. thoughts. they don’t go away though, whispering and hissing at the back of your mind. you quickly close and shut down your laptop as you hear footsteps approaching.

katsuki’s voice breaks the air. “babe? where are you?” you’ve been with him long enough to read his tone. he knows what happened. he knows and you know he’s going to talk about it. bakugou never avoids things, especially things like this.

you don’t answer him, leaving him to find you seated at the dining table. his footsteps falter as you meet his gaze, and for some reason, he looks relieved to see you there. you can tell he changed at his agency in a hurry, casual clothes all rumpled and wrinkled.

he reaches you, one of his hands cradling your cheek carefully. “i heard what happened.” yep, straight to the point. “are you okay?” you don’t know if he means physically or mentally. his eyes roam over you for any injuries in a brief manner.

it takes a while for you to answer, struggling to simply look at him in the eye. “..no.” you decide to be truthful. besides, it’d be a blatant lie if you had said yes. “i’m not okay,” you admit delicately.

bakugou, in his time of courting and falling in love with you, has learned how to comfort you in his own way. his thumb brushes over the skin of your cheek before he has both of his hands holding yours. “talk to me.”

you let out a soft, shaky exhale. “i.. i don’t know what to say, katsuki. what can i say?” shit, it hurts. the guilt is eating up at your insides, digging its way into your heart, and your voice cracks. “i failed, katsuki.”

bakugou doesn’t hesitate to drag one of the dining table chairs closer to yours and sits close to you, knees pressed against yours as he holds your hands more firmly. “hey, hey. listen to me.”

it’s then you realize that your hands are trembling. fuck. you try to steady them, studying the way his warm palms fit against yours, how his fingers are calloused but gentle.

“look at me,” he says softly, and you meet his eyes of red, unprepared. what was he gonna say to you? now, bakugou is hardly the jerk he was in his middle and high school days, and you’ve been with him for many years, but for once, you fear what he’d say. would he scold you, demean you? he has the right to anyway; failure grants that.

“mistakes..” you can tell that by the reluctance in bakugou’s voice that he’s choosing his words very carefully, “mistakes happen.”

“i-” your voice cracks again. “we can’t afford to make mistakes, katsuki! especially in this line of work- you know that! those- they were people!” your face feels warm with sudden tears. “and i just-! and i just let them die!”

you feel his hands tighten their grip and his mouth opens to say something.. and yet nothing comes out. in all of his years of being a pro hero, of all the challenges he’s faced in his life, for once—it looks like he doesn’t know what to say.

you inhale sharply, yanking away from his hold. when you stand, the chair scrapes uncomfortably against the floor. you know he’s trying, but fuck, it’s suffocating to breathe.. especially with him so close.

“i’m sorry, katsuki. i’m so sorry.” you don’t even know what you’re apologizing for right now. for not saving those people? for being a pathetic excuse for a hero? for not being a good enough person to stand by bakugou’s side? maybe all of the above. “i can’t- i just-”

and he’s standing right there with you, familiar furrow in his brow as he holds out his hands again. you can tell he wants to touch you, hug you, but you take a step back warily.

“you knew what you were getting into when you decided to become a pro hero,” he tells you. an attempt of being understanding, but it doesn’t help at all. “we can’t save everyone.”

but he can, a voice mocks, dynamight can. dynamight always wins.

“but you can!” you let your thoughts slip out with a wail. you wipe at your eyes with frustration, wishing you weren’t crying right now. you’ve had your vulnerable moments with katsuki before, but right now, you feel so weak. and you don’t want to look weak in front of him. “dynamight can! but me?”

judging by how his eyes widen, you see he’s a bit bewildered by the sudden change of the conversation being focused on him. the insecurity is as clear as day in your voice and you wish it weren’t.

his shadow is overwhelming.

“i’m- i’m nothing compared to you, katsuki! japan knows it!” a sob escapes your throat after that. “hell, even the world knows it! dynamight’s pro hero spouse-” you can’t finish it. you can’t finish it because another sob rings through the air and your heart hurts.

suddenly, you’re warm, and you’re blinking your tears into the fabric of katsuki's shirt, his broad arms wrapped around you tightly in an embrace so that you can’t move even if you tried.

“shut up.”

it’s whispered so brokenly into your ear, and it sounds almost as if katsuki’s on the verge of crying too. “please, shut up,” he murmurs, clinging onto you like you’d disappear right before his eyes. “don’t- don’t say that about yourself. don’t.”

if there’s one thing that can make you even guiltier than you already are, it’s making katsuki cry. even with the softer interior of bakugou you’ve come to see in the past years, he doesn’t cry often, and certainly not because of you. the sniffles he hides into your shoulder are the last thing that crumbles your heart.

“katsuki, i…”

he pulls back to lock your gazes, tears blurring. his red eyes are so pretty, always has been, even if they are crying right now. they blaze with a sudden fierceness, a sudden desperation that makes you listen.

“i married you because i love you. because you’re enough for me, do you hear that? no one, nothing, is going to change that—no articles, no accidents, nothing. so do not go telling me, do not go telling yourself, that you’re not worthy enough for me. that you’re not worthy enough of being a pro. you’re enough.”

katsuki’s words stun you into silence; they knock the breath out of your lungs and has your sobbing cease with a gasp. his eyes are burning into you and you hear him. you hear him and his heart.

you’re still crying. the tears are warm on your face and you don’t flinch when he moves his hands to cup your cheeks, using his thumbs to wipe them away. “you’re enough, baby. all of you.”

with those words, he also wipes the insecurities and doubts away. not all of them, but they crawl and scurry out of your mind, chased out by katsuki’s love and his warmth.

you sniffle then, burying your head into his neck and letting yourself realize that you’re enough for pro hero dynamight, for bakugou katsuki. that you’re enough for the world, mistakes and all.

and that maybe.. maybe you can learn how to stand outside of his shadow.

#bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #bnha bakugou katsuki #mha bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki x you #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou x reader #bakugou x reader angst #bakugou angst #bakugou comfort #my writing #rain’s writing

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a-court-of-moonlight-and-ire · 4 months

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Okay, second post, this ones mostly about Feyre because honestly, as of chapter 3 I havent really noticed Tamlin being out of character and from what Ive heard his character assassination was supposed to happen very quickly. Idk, right now he just seems like the same guy but traumatized although I'll fully admit that I didnt care that much for him outside of the Feylin romance (which was pretty sweet but too boring for me) so maybe I just didnt pay enough attention to him to fully grasp his character

Feyre is frustrating to me right now because I dont think shes out of character either, right now shes also just the same woman but traumatized, but like, I already know the extent to which her character will be bent for the sake of Rhysand. In these first three chapters she literally thinks something along the lines of "What's there for me to do but sit at home and spend Tamlin's money" Tell me, what does she end up doing in the night court huh????

Another thing thats frustrating is that Feyre clearly has issues communicating her feelings and wants, I know because I also had issues with that, and instead of learning that very valuable skill of telling others about your inner world and trying to work on her relationships (with both Tamlin and with her sisters), shes just gonna end up with a guy who can read her mind so theres no need for her to challenge herself and grow in any way. Yay. One thing especially stuck out to me in this regard was her attituide towards wearing dresses. Feyre does not like wearing dresses, its not like she never got to wear them back at home even though she wanted to, she just doesnt like wearing them in her day-to-day life, but she feels like she has to because she thinks its what Tamlin wants and because she thinks that if she wears pants its gonna somehow signal to the citizens of the spring court that something is incredibly wrong. But again, she doesnt tell anyone this, she doesnt ask Tamlin if he can just explain to everyone that everything is fine and that Feyre just has an unconventional way of dressing, which he would probably be fine with if its still the same guy from the first book. And it doesnt even seem like Tamlin directly made any kind of comment to her about the dresses she wears, she just saw that he was happy when he saw her wear them, which couldve well been him being happy to see her in general but she doesnt even consider that

Theres also the fact that its very unclear what she wants/what her problem is. Now, this actually isnt something that bothers me that much on its own, Feyre is traumatized and lost, obviously she doesnt know exactly what she wants at this point beyond "the situation Im in sucks and makes me feels bad, I want to get out", I think what bothers me is mostly the knowledge that Tamlin is gonna get blamed for a lot of this stuff when its really not his fault.

And I do want to make it clear that I dont think hes doing a great job handling this situation, I know a lot of people in the acotar critical sphere find his actions understandable and justifiable from his perspective and thats true, but hes still doing a bad job handling Feyre's emotional state. Like, one of your beloved's main issues is that she feels horrible because she feels trapped at home, for the love of god just let her go outside on her own. Maybe send her to village thats far inland or close to the border to the mortal realm, surely those monsters are not gonna manage to come that far if youre all going on patrols to kill them as soon as possible. And even if they do, the people of any village are gonna bend over backwards in order to protect their capital c Cursebreaker, shes gonna be fine

But, to get back to my original point, even if Tamlin was a daemati or whatever like Rhys and could read her mind the way she needs it to be read, he would still not be able to figure out what exactly Feyre needs right now because she doesnt know it herself! I literally read all of her thoughts and I dont know! Does she want to help others and be responsible for a whole bunch of people because its what shes always known to do? Does she want to avoid resonsibility for now because she wants to recover from her traumatic childhood of having the responsibility of keeping her family alive on top of all the new UTM-trauma? Its hard to say and that makes sense for Feyre at this point in her life, but she cant just blame people for not understanding her when she doesnt properly understand herself and refuses tl verbalize her feelings

Anyway, thats it for today, hope you enjoyed this

#anti acomaf #anti sjm #anti feysand #feyre critical #tamlin critical #flames and darkness liveblog

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sideprince · 5 days

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I've seen the same post a hundred times now. Sometimes it's a few days old, sometimes it's from years ago, but it's always the same. Some anti posts about how they don't understand how anyone can like Snape because he was so awful, and then there's a long reply that goes something like, "imagine this happens to you, and then this, and then this" to describe Snape's experience. Sometimes there's some James Potter hate thrown in.

Look. You can go through describing a character's entire experience but you don't really need to. Here's the thing that antis don't understand:

For all her faults (and they're big, bigoted ones) Rowling understood a really integral part of the human experience and conveyed it through Snape. Everyone needs love and to feel accepted. It's that simple. Snape became a Death Eater to seek acceptance (Rowling has confirmed this, though I can't remember the source - whoever wants to add it please do), because it was the only way he could find any.

Snape's understanding of morality, like everyone's, is subjective. Some readers understand this and some don't. When faced against a morality that says there is good and bad in the world, everyone makes choices based on their personal experience. Context is everything. Someone who experiences pain and suffering will not see the person inflicting it on them as moral. That's it. 'How can this person be good when they caused me so much suffering?' = human psychology. Most of the people who think 'I'm a bad person and deserve this' have been gaslit and abused into thinking so, because it's not a natural reaction - it's one that has to often be socialized into someone at a young age, exactly because it's not natural. Everyone is the hero of their own story; no one sees themselves as a villain, because they see the valid aspects of their own perspective.

You can write essays on how vulnerable people needing acceptance is what cults and fascists exploit to recruit vulnerable people, or on how the standard anti's un-nuanced reading of Snape both ignores canon and displays a disturbing lack of empathy or compassion, but at its core it just boils down to context. From Snape's perspective he experienced cruelty, therefore the people inflicting it must be cruel. Again, it's that simple. He was a person, like any other, except he was fictional so he wasn't even real. On the flip side is James Potter, who, for all his faults, didn't get to live long enough to get a chance to change and grow unlike Snape, and I think the Snapedom also needs to acknowledge that.

They're fictional characters representing things an author wants to say, not sports teams, not martyrs, and not all good or all bad emblems that define your identity depending on how you feel about them. It's depressing how much time is wasted arguing with bullies and trolls whether from the Marauders fandom or just random antis. I literally can't find more than three blogs to follow without this argument coming across my feed daily. I know the Snapedom is Not OK™ and that's kind why we're all here, and I know that my take is super unpopular but like Snape, I don't care what others think: this fandom has been having the exact same argument for years and nothing has changed. There's fanart and meta and fic and so much content out there appreciating this character, you're not going to change an anti's mind who's deliberately trolling in the tags, so why are you trying? What are you getting out of it? What does it give you? It's exhausting just scrolling past it.

#The thing about morality is that it's subjective #the religious leader who's a beacon of moral purity to their congregation #is a source of selfishness and pain to someone they abuse in secret #is that abuse victim immoral for rejecting the values the religious leader represents?#the congregation might think so because their definition of morality relies on the religious leader being a moral guide #the victim might not think so though because how can something be righteous if it causes suffering #look this is just an example of how perspectives can vary and I know there are more possible takes on that example #my point is that the idea that there's no clear 'good' and 'evil' there's only power/what you do with it is actually how psychology works #'good' to one person can be pain to another #'scourgify' is an innocuous household spell that cleans stains until it's used to waterboard someone #context matters more than labels like 'light' and 'dark' magic

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immortalmsmoon · 5 months

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Hi ^⁠_⁠^

Can I request p5 boys (inc Akechi) comforting there s/o who is mourning over death of someone who was very close to them so close the they consider them a (her only one)family to her ? Later on finding out she have a palace bc of it ?

Thank u:)

Mourning

Cast Line Up: Akira Kurusu, Ryuji Sakamoto, Yusuke Kitagawa, and Goro Akechi

A/N: Thank you for the request, Sorry I took so long to post this! I also didn't write any scenarios for this one because its already pretty long, and I couldn't think of anything :( sorry! I hope you enjoy it regardless!

Warnings: Mentions of loss, mentions of overprotective/over baring/suffocating behavior in akechis, mentions of third semester, mild neglection, kinda angsty(?), some fluff as well, cuddles and cute stuff, Not spell checked!!

Please let me know if i missed anything!

Word count: 1189

Akira Kurusu~

this man is a very comforting person to be around

his scent is nice, the soft but bold smell of coffee clings to him from Leblanc

he's a very soft person, whether it be his voice, his hair, or even just him in general.

he also can be quite quiet sometimes, so he's a good person to vent to or talk to. he doesn't pry, and is a very good listener.

he won't cling to you, and certainly won't push you to speak or hang out with him. he want's to give you as much space as you want and need.

will make food for you, and check up on you, just to make sure that your still staying healthy.

tries his best to act like normal, but is still very kind with you and careful; he doesn't want to bring up any emotions or bad feelings.

however, he doesn't want to act so normal that you feel like your being neglected or that he's trying to ignore your feelings

as soon as he finds out you have a palace he blames himself

"Why wasn't i there for Y/N?" "i should have tried harder to be there for them.."

it crushes him, it truly does that your desires got so out of whack because of this

he feels like a terrible boyfriend. he should have noticed that you were going through this, he thinks

in reality it isn't his fault; the person you lost was very close to you, and it was kind of bound to happen (the palace)

he makes it his first priority to save you, and make sure that your state doesn't get any worse

after all is said and done, he makes sure to check up on you more and make sure that you know your not alone, even though he can't replace the person you lost.

Ryuji Sakamoto~

definitely the best to comfort you.

he's lost people in his life, and knows what you need. You need some attention, not enough to be smothered, but enough that you know your not alone in this.

after his dad left (even though he was a terrible person), it messed him up, and he felt more alone then ever. he didn't have anyone like you to help him through it

he wants to make sure you don't feel the way he did, so he makes sure to check up on you

the same as Akira, makes sure you've been eating and drinking, but also makes sure you've been keeping up with hygiene.

he'll invite you over and run you a nice bath, and while you take it he will prepare snacks and a movie, with your favourite fluffy blanket of course.

lots of snuggles. again, he makes sure you always have space to back up or move away from him incase you feel suffocated.

when he hears from Mishima that you asked for your own heart to be changed via the phan-site, he makes it his goal to help you.

he tries not to linger on bad thoughts to much, and tries not to let himself take the blame; he knows its not his fault.

that being said, he still feels bad about it all, he can't help it you are his s/o after all

as soon as your heart has been changed he's coming to visit you, with some sort of gift, maybe a teddy bear, or even just some snacks

you guys watch a movie, play a game, read manga together, heck whatever you want as long as he can be with you

Yusuke Kitagawa~

he's a clueless boy

not the best at sensing when you need to be comforted, and also not the best at sensing when you need space

in fact, he's quite bad at it.

he may have lost his mother and father, but he was quite young when it happened, and he tries not to think of Madarame to much

still, he is aware of the situation and tries his best to comfort you

he gives nice hugs, probably because of his height, and is also very gentle with you

he treats you very delicately, and tries his best to be delicate with words as well, as not to say anything that might trigger you or make you feel a wave of bad emotions.

he tries to make you food

he's not very good at it, but he's learned a thing or two from living in a school dorm by himself.

sometimes he'll just resort to buying you some food (if he has money)

one of the few ways he is good at showing that he is there for you, is by making you stuff.

he paints, sketches, crafts, heck he even tries using clay.

he makes you all sorts of stuff from trinkets to full on paintings.

when he find out about your desire to have your heart changed, it hits him like a truck, especially because you told him yourself, even if you don't know he's a phantom thief

your the only person he has left, really, and he wants to take care of you more than anything in the world.

he's quick to change your heart, and after he comes to see you

he is out of characteristically romantic with you and gentle with you, even more so than he already is

he's just happy that your here with him, and that you didn't start to feel worse.

he vows to be better at comforting you in the future and paying more attention to you.

Goro Akechi

it doesn't matter if it's third semester akechi or not, he too is also terrible at comforting you

he does try, really, he just isn't really sure how to do it right

growing up he never got comforting for anything. not until you showed up.

its still a very new concept for him, but he wants to be there for you so he tries as best as he can

and for the most part he's ok. the only problem is that he's over baring. its almost suffocating.

he always knows when your upset, its like his sixth sense

the only problem is that he can't tell if your upset because of the loss, or because of him.

he actually refuses to even think its him unless you bring it up

he's good at taking care of you. he buys you food, helps you stay on top of hygiene, helps you with laundry.

its just that he acts like you are completely uncapable of doing ANYTHING. it's like he's taken control of your life.

when he does find out about your palace, he's heartbroken.

you are the ONLY positive thing in his life. his sweet little flower that he protects and cherishes more than anything.

VERY QUICK to get rid of your palace.

he soon after realises that he was kind of bad at comforting you and the he was waaaaaay to over the top.

he makes sure to give you as much space as you need now, but is also much sweeter than you. before he had discovered your palace, he didn't know that the death had effected you as much as it did, and now he wants to show you his unconditional love and support.

#persona 5 #persona 5 x reader #p5 #goro akechi #akira #persona #ren amamiya #goro akechi x reader #ren amamiya x reader #Goro akechi #goro #akechi #p5r #persona 5 royal #akira kurusu

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childofhypno · 6 days

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just some thoughts from sherlock and co. Mailbag episode

honestly I did this to myself and at 3am no less.

In an mailbag episode on the sherlock and co. patreon, answering a question on their favorite musicals, John answered Les Misèrables. And being the romantic we know our loveable doctor to be, I was perusing the songs from the 2013 movie album and came across On My Own.

Sung by Èpoine about her unrequited love for Marius. And that is sad in its own regard, there's a reason it's one of the musicals most popular songs and Samantha Barks does a great job of that crushing emotional weight of being so wrapped in someone, so ultimately dazzled by them and wanting to be near them. But knowing they will not look at you the same, will not place the same value on the time and proximity you share. And that is not their fault and it is hard to love someone and desire to be close and yet have them be the source of your greatest pain and rejection, even though they may wish you no harm.

It's been hinted at and out right stated (by Sherlock) that John wants to be liked. And given what we've heard about John's last relationship (the one whereby he gained ownership of Archie after the split) and perhaps some insecurities there, insecurities in his own capabilities, comparing himself to others, its understandable to read John as something of an insecure man. Not in a toxic manner but John definitely has a lot of self doubts about himself and his place in the world and what he can offer to others. Despite him so naturally being able to attune to people and their needs and being quite bloody smart and intuitive. All round just a decent person.

And John, as much as anyone, marvels at Sherlock Holmes. This almost mythical figure. John admires Sherlock and maybe envies him on some level. I think not in Sherlock's deduction skills or specific knowledge skillsets but maybe in Sherlock's apparent surety in himself and where he is in life and what he wants from it. Sherlock is plainly himself, even if it means not "fitting in " John often tries to mould himself to what others might like, and hey, as a people pleaser, oh boy do I understand that. Almost becomes like muscle memory.

Sherlock in turn, I think admires John's social prowess. His ability to express the complexity of emotions. Just because someone doesn't emote the typical way doesn't mean they don't feel the emotions. And that can be incredibly frustrating when you want to communicate with others. Sherlock cares about people. He's interested in people. And he can't always express or connect with them in the way he wants. Like a language barrier he mentioned in another mailbag episode. That is why Sherlock and John work. They draw out in each other and supplement for the qualities they lack or yearn to have more of. They're a balancing act. A good one. And I'm not the first to point that out.

All this to say, imagine when that act is separated. The Fall. Grown so comfortable to have the other's support, always by each others side and then, suddenly the other person isn't there. And you have to remember how you functioned without them before. But you can't go back. You're not the same person you were. But if they aren't there to remind you, to encourage you, it's easy to fall back into old habits.

And so the song. On My Own. From John's perspective, watching the man the myth the dazzling legend that is Sherlock Holmes, getting swept up in the adventures, feeling totally out of place but thrilled be along for the ride, participating, maybe growing in confidence all because of coincidental flat share with possibly the most brilliant and bizzare man he's ever met. The world is changing for John Watson. And Sherlock is seemingly at the center of it all. He's found purpose. Friends. A home. Maybe more. But John is as fallible in his assumptions as any of us are. And Sherlock appears to have no interest in such relationships and John, not confident enough to make the first move. So he can daydream. Of what it would be like to be with Sherlock. And what it would be like be without Sherlock.

And then the Fall. And he truly is without Sherlock and his world has dulled and greyed and blurred. The city has lost its glimmer. The flat is quiet. The words are meaningless. And John sits with his what ifs.

Don't think of John hearing this song. Of the heartbreak of knowing that you can ever be with the one you love. And knowing that taste of what brilliant technicolours the world is when you were with them, full of stimulating twinkling lights. And thinking it could never be that way again. Don't imagine John, sat in the flat, in the achingly quiet flat, as a woman sings for her never was love, head in his hands, Archie resting his head on John's knee. Don't think of John cursing himself for not being sure enough to tell Sherlock how he felt, for not being good enough again to save his friend. Don't think of John Watson, once again, on his own.

#sherlock and co #sherlock and co.#sherlock & co #sherlock homes #john watson #I just have a lot of feelings about these two okay?#I dunno if I expressed myself well but here we are #jonklock

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scribbling-dragon · 1 year

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for the fic requests: i’ve personally been kind of craving a grian & jimmy siblings fic that isn’t all like the “wholesome” or overprotectiveness that i see a lot in the tag, sibling relationships can be pretty nasty but still have that underlying affection or familarity to each other because of shared life experiences etc,, i think a dynamic like that (especially in any of the life series with the added stress of being in a death game, you can choose whatever setting tho because i think those two are just Inherently Fucked Up) would be cool to read about if you’re up for it

are you really siblings if you don't try and kill each other on the regular?

summary:

“Nah, most he’d do is scam you out everything valuable you own.”

“And leave me for dead.” He finishes.

“Well, I never said anything about you not dying to something stupid, just that Scar wouldn't kill you.”

“Wow,” he mutters, “what care and concern from my dearest older brother, truly, I have never felt more loved in my life.”

(ao3 link)

(2,080 words)

(reblogs are also appreciated <3)

The sand shifts beneath his feet as he steps onto it. The grains immediately worm their way into his shoes, through some strange impossibility that should mean that sand shouldn’t currently be in his shoes. There’s no way for sand to be in his shoes, yet he can find the grains itching at his feet almost immediately- within seconds of stepping foot onto the first patch of sand.

He grumbles under his breath, stepping further and further into the desert, squinting his eyes against the offensive sun that does its best to blind him the moment he looks up. The sand continues to sink around his feet, grains worming their way into his shoes and sticking to his feet.

It’s Grian’s stupid fault for choosing to live in such a hostile environment- seriously, there were so many better places for him to pick to live in and yet he chooses a desert? The man’s supposed to be smart, or something, and yet he chooses the biome that is potentially the most hostile to beings living in it (other than, maybe, an ocean. Choosing to live in the middle of the ocean is also a pretty stupid idea, but he’s also pretty sure Grian’s done that too). Maybe the man isn't so deserving of the clever title everyone gives him; maybe he’s just an idiot.

He glances up again, taking his chances with being blinded by the sun to see how much further he has to go. Monopoly Mountain still looms on the horizon, a seemingly insurmountable distance away. It feels as though he’s hardly made any progress with his journey across the desert, and the constantly shifting sand beneath his feet does nothing but add to the nightmarish trek.

He begins to curse Grian out beneath his breath.

“Now that’s just plain hurtful.” He startles, twisting to face the new arrival.

Grian’s perching on a nearby cactus, hand lightly resting on the top of it for balance. His talons curl around one of the arms of the cacti. It doesn't look at all comfortable, and Jimmy hopes he’s picking cacti spines out of his feet for the next week.

“You chose to live in a stupid place.” He complains. “Seriously? What’s wrong with a- a nice forest? Somewhere that’s not this hot or difficult to walk through!” He kicks at some of the sand, which only succeeds in shifting it slightly and adding to the slowly growing desert in the base of his boots.

“It’s for exactly that reason we chose to live here, Tim.” Grian cocks his head to the side. “Don't exactly want everyone wandering on past our base, especially not with so many red lives running around.”

“Hardly anyone’s going to be running past your base with Scar there.” He scoffs. He’s almost tempted to kick at the sand again, but that’d do nothing but make him more annoyed at the existence of a desert. He pledges to himself, then, that he shall never set foot in another desert unless it is with the sole purpose of eradicating every grain of sand from within it. Can't be a desert without any sand, can it?

“Or me.” Grian grins. “More than a few people are wary about me after that enchanting table trap.”

“You give yourself far too much credit.” He laughs. “I was the one that set that trap off- it didn't even work. Everyone overestimates how far you plan ahead.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” he responds. This desert really is far too hot, he can feel the grains of sand beginning to collect between his feathers. Something which is going to be a pain to get out once he’s returned home and is safely away from this hellspawn of a biome. “You don't plan ahead at all.”

“Don't I?” Grian tries to sound surprised, raising his eyebrows in an exaggerated manner. It’s done with the sole intent of irritating him. And it works. Irritatingly. Grian just knows how to get under his skin, managing the feat with nothing more than a few expressions and carefully spoken words.

“No,” he can feel his feathers begin to fluff up a little, “you don't. Have you even thought about how this is going to end? About how all of this is going to end? Because I know you haven't, you never think that far ahead, never beyond the next trap or prank you're planning on pulling, hm? What happens when your contract with Scar runs out? What happens if he’s the one to kill you? What happens if you're the one to kill him?”

“It won't come to that.” Grian frowns at him, wings twitching. The hints at his annoyance are subtle. Everything about him is subtle, subtle up until the point where it is not, and you're left wondering where all of the sudden annoyance came from. “It won't.”

“But it might.” He shrugs. “What happens if you and Scar beat each other to death, hm?”

“The same thing that will happen if you and Scott beat each other to death, Tim,” Grian looks at him. “You die, and you move on. Game over, you go home.”

“And everyone else forgets this even happened in the first place.” He says, shoulders sagging. “Everyone goes home, none the wiser. As though they never disappeared in the first place, because it’s so easy for you to do that.”

“You make it sound like I enjoy that.”

Jimmy sighs. “I know you don't. But you don't think about these things. How are you meant to stop yourself from getting hurt if you don't think about it?”

“Isn't that what you're here for?” Grian asks. He hops down from the cacti, stretching his wings out as he lands. The wingspan is far larger than he normally has, tawny brown feathers so different from the usual bright reds and yellows of his wings.

His own are the same as they've always been. Unchanging. The bright yellow remains unaffected by whatever magic forces Grian to adapt- he’s not sure what he’d prefer; the unchanging warning of his own wings, or being forced to adapt with each different server, changing as he moves between them.

“And here I thought you actually appreciated my company.”

“Of course not,” Grian scoffs. “Now, what was it you needed? Unless you just felt like complaining at me.”

“Uh,” why was he in the desert in the first place? He hadn't done anything remarkable that day, certainly nothing that he would have decided to trudge out here to inform their allies of- “Oh! Scott wants more sand, says our supplies are running low.”

“And he sent you to do it for him?”

“He’s doing enchants,” he says. “You know I can't do those very well.”

“Oh I am aware.” Grian laughs. “Your attempts are still as messy as when you were ten, I take it?”

He grumbles in response, which only prompts Grian to laugh more even though it isn't really that funny.

“Sand?” He prompts, when he realises Grian’s just going to keep laughing at him. At this rate, he’s going to pass out from a lack of oxygen, or the heat getting to him, before Jimmy can even secure the goods and been on his merry way back to his distinctly not sand-filled home.

“Yeah, yeah, c’mon,” Grian beckons him to follow, and he does, falling into step behind him. Grian moves with ease across the landscape, somehow managing not to sink into the sand as deeply as he does. Maybe it’s something to do with not wearing boots, though he’s certainly not about to risk burning his feet to test it- he’d rather Grian doesn't laugh at him anymore. “I don't see why you couldn't just dig up some of the edges, why come all this way to find me?”

“I'm not about to die because Scar found me digging up part of the desert.”

“He wouldn't kill you for it,” Grian sighs.

“Uh, yes he would. Have you met the man?”

“Nah, most he’d do is scam you out everything valuable you own.”

“And leave me for dead.” He finishes.

“Well, I never said anything about you not dying to something stupid, just that Scar wouldn't kill you.”

“Wow,” he mutters, “what care and concern from my dearest older brother, truly, I have never felt more loved in my life.”

“Oh, knock it off,” Grian nudges him far harder than necessary, pushing him into a small pile of sand that flies up as he kicks it, getting in his eyes and his mouth. He spits the sand out, feeling the grains catch in his teeth as he grimaces.

He stumbles after Grian, just to shove him back, watching him stumble slightly, teetering a little to the side. Grian shoves him back, as though Jimmy’s own shove wasn't revenge already.

He jabs an elbow into Grian’s ribs in return, digging into the spot he knows is especially sensitive after Grian cracked three ribs while attempting to fly for the first time. Grian shouts, loud and wordless, which is all the warning he gets before Grian leaps at him, shoving him down into the sand.

“Grian!” He cries. He can feel sand nestling amongst his hair, digging into his feathers. “Hey, hey!” He shoves at Grian, attempting to dislodge the avian. It doesn't work, and they simply end up rolling around.

Grian kicks at him, talons scratching down his trousers, no doubt ripping his jeans- something he’s going to have to explain to Scott later, no doubt. He kicks right back, shoving at Grian’s face as he goes to bite him, shoving him away until he’s at a safe enough distance that he won't - literally - go for the jugular.

Grian licks his hand.

He pulls it back with a shout of disgust, kicking at Grian hard enough to dislodge him, scrambling to his feet before Grian can lunge at him.

“What was that for!” He yells, hopping back a step when Grian still looks tempted to lunge for him.

“You jabbed me!” Grian yells back, gesturing wildly with his arms. His wings flap too, stirring up the sand and stinging at his eyes.

“And you tried to bite me!” He doesn't shriek- he doesn't. Grian is a known liar, so even if he does go around snitching on him, not that he shrieked in the first place, no one’s going to believe him. “How many times have I told you not to go for the throat!”

“How many times have I told you not to elbow me!” Grian shrieks back at him. “I wouldn't have to bite you if you didn't elbow me!”

“You shoved me first.” He crosses his arms. His wings twitch behind him, feathers ruffling as he tries to dislodge as much of the sand as he can.

“And? It’s my desert.”

“It’s not your desert.”

“Uh, yeah it is?” Grian tips his head to the side. “I live in it. It’s my desert.”

“Whatever,” he throws his hands up, turning around. “I give up! Keep your stupid sand!”

“What are you gonna tell Scott?” Grian yells after him. He ignores him, stalking across the sand, gritting his teeth every time it slips beneath his feet.

When he does arrive back at their base, Scott is still enchanting, nose deep in one of the books and glasses perched precariously on the edge of his nose as he leans forward to read it, quill and ink set aside for the moment.

He looks up as Jimmy enters, eyes widening in surprise at the state of him.

“What happened to you? You look like you had a fight with a bucket of sand and lost.”

“Grian.”

“Ah,” Scott nods his head along sagely. “That certainly explains why you've come back dripping sand, yet seemingly lacking in it.”

“It just wasn't working out,” he waves Scott off. “I'm going for a lie down.”

“Alright,” he nods, watching his husband go. One of his trouser legs was torn, as though it had been ripped to shreds by a wild animal, or a particularly vicious bush. He has a feeling it was neither of those, though. He supposes he must give Grian credit where credit’s due, though he’s not sure what the man gets out of beating his brother up.

It simply makes him all the more glad to be a single child; he can't imagine the hassle of having a brother that seems hellbent on killing you at every turn.

#juno.writes #3rd life smp #third life smp #trafficblr #jimmy solidarity #grian #giving everyone the REAL sibling relationship these guys have #loosely based on an interaction i have had with my own sister (though we almost broke the tv stand in that fight)#solidaritygaming #solidarity gaming #life series #traffic smp #traffic series #scott smajor #(right at the end)#flower husbands

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