#so!!!!! yells screams flings this into the void

[lassieposting]

Concept:

Post-tadpole, Tav offers to help Astarion find a way to walk in the sun again, and she starts by going to different libraries and repositories and archives around the city to look for books that might be relevant. Astarion, obviously, has to stay in the rental room with the shutters closed during the daytime, so he can't come with her.

At some point, this takes her up to the posh part of the city, where the fancy ✨ scholarly ✨ archive is. She remembers most of the walk - it's not too far from the graveyard Astarion took her to, in the neighbourhood where he once used to live.

And like, it's never actually occurred to her that he could still have Actual Blood Relatives still living? It's not a topic she's ever thought to raise with him. But she has to sign in and out of the archive, and she just happens to notice the name three or four lines above hers: an initial and a surname she recognises.

Ancunín.

The same name from Astarion's gravestone.

A parent? A sibling?

A niece or nephew Astarion has never even met?

Thus begins a secondary quest of trying to reunite a broken family. Astarion is willing enough to talk about the few memories he still has of the thirty-nine years he had with his family before turning - a drop in the ocean compared to the 200 years spent suffering under Cazador - but he shuts down when she nudges him towards the likelihood that Mr & Mrs Ancunín are still alive. He retreats back behind the selfish, catty survivalist he was when she first met him and claims he has no interest in ever reconnecting. The pain in every clipped syllable says drop it, so she does.

But then he asks her, very quietly, several days later, what the initial was. He doesn't really react when she tells him - there's no obvious recognition, and he doesn't ask any follow-up questions or try to discuss it further. He just goes back to his book. She watches him out of the corner of her eye though, as she skim-reads her own giant tome of magical artifacts. A very long time goes by before she sees him turn a page.

For a good long while, the family issue gets put firmly on the back burner. They have other shit going on. Sometimes, it's following promising leads on a possible workaround for Astarion's sunlight allergy. Other times, it's the kind of ugly, ragged-edged breakdown that so often follows a period of relative safety and stability after a major trauma. He's been running in survival mode for two centuries, and now he's finally starting to feel secure enough for the rest of his mind to come back online, and all the trauma he couldn't handle at the time, all the pain and fear and tangled emotions survival mode was protecting him from, is catching up to him. During those sporadic episodes, trying to keep him from falling apart is her top priority and, well, time gets away from them and by the time he brings up his parents again, months or more have gone by, and they have a fairly good idea of what artifact of daywalking they need to find.

By the time it comes to actually meeting with them, still more months have passed, and they have already found it.

It's horrible, and heartwarming, and heartbreaking, and healing, and hurting, and so many other conflicting things that for a while - a long while - Tav doesn't know whether she actually did the right thing encouraging him to reach out to long-lost loved ones. It's a mess of moments that makes her heart ache for a dozen reasons. She finds out that Astarion looks most like his mother, but has his father's nose. She holds him for hours while he shakes and sobs into her shoulder because they never even left the city, they were here the whole time, and they never found him - and he's so angry and full of grief he doesn't know what to do with himself. She accompanies him to the home he was raised in, and the once-familiar surroundings jog memories he thought lost for good - he's glassy-eyed, recounting them to her, but she's fairly sure it's the good kind of glassy-eyed, so she doesn't mention it. She tries to make conversation at family dinner while he stares at his hands in his lap, dissociated, looking even more uncomfortable than she feels, utterly lost in a world that once fit him like a glove. There are a lot of feelings to try and mediate. They are all hurt, all damaged, all afraid, all looking for the ghost of a loved one in the face of a stranger.

But, eventually, there is a day where she overhears Astarion having a conversation with his father, and he sounds like himself - not the persona he puts on in public - and his father laughs at something he says in a way that's entertained rather than awkward. There is a day where his mother reaches out and he doesn't shake his head or step away - he lets her hug him goodbye. They have not slipped back into the graves they crawled out of in each other's lives - they are all very different people now - but they are learning new ways to fit together, and he seems to be pleased about it.

So she thinks, yeah, it was worth it.

#bg3 #bg3 headcanons #astarion x tav #tavstarion #tav #so i saw a post mentioning that astarion's family could still be alive bc elves #and now i have Feelings #so!!!!! yells screams flings this into the void #also pry astarion having to start processing what hes been through once he's safe from my cold dead hands #also his poor folks lmao #his mother telling him that someone desecrated his grave not long after he died by digging it up #and then again recently by defacing it #and hes just 'actually both of those were me' #astarion ancunin

[sometimes-they-come-back-237]

Here’s chapter two from my DuckTales fic.

CHAPTER 2: “Nightmare”

•

“Whatever it is, take care of it yourself. I’m done.”

“Come now, is that any way to speak to your family? To your caring and devoted aunt, no less?”, Magica mocked. Her sardonic tone rang quite clear as it echoed in her niece’s ears.

Lena rolled her eyes as she glared upwards into the never ending darkness that was the void; the cold, isolating, imprisonment she currently resided in until Magica needed her for her own bidding.

“We’re anything but family”, said Lena through gritted teeth. “Leave me alone”, she spat as she proceeded to blindly tread her way in no particular direction. Every step she took felt like she was stepping into a puddle of shallow water.

“Don’t you want to see your perky, little playmate again? Or did she finally tire of you?”

Lena froze.

She knew Webby. Webby cared for her, more than anyone else. Even when she found out the truth about why Lena was seeking the dime…

Webby never gave up on her.

“I said leave me alone!”

Suddenly, a dim orb shot past Lena, circling above her, just enough for her to see it take the silhouette of some type of bird.

It opened its beak. “Evermore…”

It was a voice Lena had never heard before.

“What?”, she asked, straining her eyes. She could see a streak of purple forming on top of the bird’s head.

The bird shrieked, “Evermore!”, before darting towards Lena, colliding into her, yet she felt nothing. She turned around in time to see the bird vanish as gray wisps of smoke evaporated into the void.

She gasped as she instinctively examined herself, worrying that she too would disappear into a cloud of smoke. She sighed, as she felt the sleeves of her sweater. The sweet relief filled her knowing what remained of her body was still intact-

“Help!”

That voice.

Lena’s heart sank as she turned around, her eyes widening as she saw that just a few feet from her, was Webby, who seemed to be frantically trying to keep herself afloat in a small body of water that she was desperately trying to get out of.

She was drowning.

Every rapid motion she made with her flailing arms to try and stay above the surface caused more splashes of water to fling every which way.

“Webby?”, asked Lena, momentarily stunned. How did she get here? She snapped out of it almost immediately. Her best friend needed her. “Webby!”, she yelled, running as fast as she could.

“Help!”, yelled Webby, as soon as she emerged from below the water, only to be forced under yet again.

“Webby!”, shouted Lena as she finally reached the edge of the puddle, dropping to her knees, she tried to plunge her arms into the freezing water, to grab onto Webby. However, once her hands made contact with the few inches of water, they hit what felt like glass. “No!”, she exclaimed, pounding on the unbreakable barrier. “Webby!”

“Lena!”, yelled Webby, her muffled voice barely audible to the teen.

Their eyes met for a split second before Webby was being pulled farther down into the dark until she was completely gone from sight.

Lena’s heart stopped. She screamed at the top of her lungs, an ear piercing scream. Seeing her best friend being ripped away from her, was torture. Pure torture.

“NO! WEBBY! NO!”. She went back to slamming her fists against the blockade to no avail. “Webby!”

Just then two pairs of hands made contact with Lena’s arms.

Magica.

“No! Stop it! LET ME GO!”, yelled Lena.

The pairs of hands felt familiar to her. They resisted her attempts at being shaken off. They gripped tighter onto her, not in the sense that they were trying to hurt her but guide her.

They were gentle, in fact, so gentle that they couldn’t possibly be Magica’s.

It didn’t matter. They were preventing her from gettting to Webby.

“I said stop, you witch!”, she yelled, her heavy breathing nearly made it impossible for her to get the words out. Her eye color shifting from clear to a neon blue.

The grips of the invisible hands intensified. Seizing her arms until they forced them to her sides. Just as their hold on her got stronger, the heavier her breathing intensified.

She could hear numerous disembodied voices calling to her.

Lena… Lena… Lena…

There was a fire burning inside her. Her magic growing inside of her, ready to burst…

“STOP!”

The pounding in her head eased, as did whatever was holding onto her.

Lena gasped as she immediately sat up in bed, trying to steady her breathing, looking around her and Vi’s shared bedroom. Everything except for the bed and the bookshelf had levitated from their usual place and were now floating around on the ceiling.

All of Vi’s books, the nightstand, the lamp, the ceramic skull Lena used as a candle, and all of the girls’ other trinkets were suspended in midair surrounded by a mystical blue light.

To Lena’s horror, Tyrian and Violet were also on the ceiling, spread eagle, unable to move. Tyrian looked anxious, while Violet seemed impressed.

“I see you’ve been improving your telekinesis. Quite the feat that you’ve now managed to utilize your skills on people as well as our possessions”, said Violet.

Lena waved her arm in the air, side to side, as her hand radiated a blue aura around it. “Sorry, guys”, she said, as her father and sister were gently set back on the floor, as well as the rest of their belongings.

Tyrian let out a sigh of relief. “No pasa nada, miel”, he said, kneeling down next to Lena. “Violet came to get me as soon as you started having a fit in your sleep. We did our best to wake you before you-“

“Tossed you on the ceiling like a ragdoll?”, said Lena guiltily.

Tyrian offered a reassuring smile as he rustled her hair. “We’re alright, sweetheart”, he said, looking next to Lena. “Violet?”

“Indeed”, said Violet, who had made her way onto the bed, sitting next to her sister, grasping her hand. “I thought we had resolved what’s been upsetting you so you’d never have nightmares again.”

“Not unless you know some incantation that’ll make me stay awake forever”, Lena teased.

Violet furrowed her eyebrows. “I haven’t come across one yet, but I shall bookmark it once I do.” She positioned herself on the bed, entwining her and Lena’s arms together, as she rested her head on the teen’s shoulder.

Lena smirked, she too resting her head on Violet’s.

Tyrian smiled, getting to his feet. “I think this is the perfect time for hot chocolate. How many marshmallows do you girls want?”

“Three.”

“Five.”

#takes place post #the phantom and the sorceress #Lena needs a hug #disney xd #ducktales fandom #ducktales #DuckTales 2017 Fanfiction #one shot #lena sabrewing #ducktales 2017 #violet sabrewing #disney #ty sabrewing #Tyrian Sabrewing #lena and violet sabrewing #sabrefam #Sabrewing family #sabrewing sisters #ty and lena sabrewing #ty and Violet Sabrewing #fluff #angst #hurt/comfort #webby vanderquack #webby vanderquack and lena sabrewing #webby and lena #lena and violet #magica de spell #poe de spell #Sabrewing family content

[goatgot5566]

MHVerse RP with friends

(This is a story pretty much-) It has been years since The Bad planned anything big and aside from their various attacks on villages outside the kingdom walls of Haven, it almost seemed... peaceful. Though it wasn't. They were up to something wicked, something that'll change the kingdom forever. Nightmare, The Warlock of Darkness, was cooped up in an awful (as in creepy) house. It wasn't much of a sight, discerning to all who wonder these woods. It was like a shack, covered in rotting wood and surrounded by swamps known to drive people insane (cough cough, the anti-void). Here no one visits, isolated from hunters but deeply infested with monsters. Which all, if not terrified of, obey this warlock...

Here, Nightmare was planning a huge plan to take over Haven and finally get what he wants. The Apple of Positivity

Nightmare: He was inside the shack for whole week, only to come out to demand more negativity across the land...

Horror: Of course the lack of seeing his boss eating gave him concerning feelings. Horror tried offer Night food, only to get no response. In the end, Horror agreed to help spread the negativity his boss demands to fuel themselves (edited)

JackieArtz — Today at 7:56 AM

Killer stood by the door leaning against it gently. His eye drooped as hate dripped from his sockets. He has the stupid grin. He was just listening to what his boss might be saying or he was just staring really now

Killer: not gonna talk? Yell? Scream? Hit us? Scold? How about scowl? Come on you gotta at least give us that

JakeFiber — Today at 7:58 AM

Dust was sorta just taking up space at this point. He felt lost with all this inactivity. He wanted so badly to just go out and feed. And of course he did just that whenever nightmare required them to go out and cause negativity but the lack of a constant stream of murder left him uneasy

Dust: Forget all that you damn masochist…I just wanna get out there and cause some mayhem again…

Ggff5566 — Today at 8:00 AM

Horror: He sat near one of the windows, that were blocked with wood panels, in attempt to spy on Nightmare. he was visibly concerned. He didn't care about the lack of scolding or hayhem... he wants his boss out and healthy He hasn't been eating... (edited)

JackieArtz — Today at 8:02 AM

Killer: that's not what I'm worried about he took a knife off his belt night! Come ooonnnn none of us has done anything! At all! What are u doing in that head of yours? he paced back and forth

JakeFiber — Today at 8:05 AM

Dust:he sat there staring at the ground. He saw a small beetle crawling by his food. He quickly snagged it, crushing it in his hand, it’s juices and insides spilling through his boney fingers

Ggff5566 — Today at 8:09 AM

Nightmare: After three minutes, their boss slammed the shack's door open, causing the building to shake. Nightmare looked tired, sweaty, and psycho, more than Dust looks. I did it! Finally! The mission can finally be completed! *His aura was seeping with vile intentions, tentacles of mist flickering along the doorframe*

Horror: He glances over at Nightmare, not moving from his sitting position ?

JackieArtz — Today at 8:12 AM

Killer: He's baaaaackkk! We were wondering what you were doing he tossed his knife up and down what mission?

JakeFiber — Today at 8:15 AM

Dust: Just have us do something please. I can’t stand waiting around like this…

Ggff5566 — Today at 8:23 AM

Nightmare: A tentacle grabs Killer's knife, flinging into the ground. The motion of the knife being tossed seemed to bother him right now THE PLAN! THE MISSION! The one where we destroy those no good Hunters and my stupid brother, Haven will be our's and no one can stop us! He chuckles, gripping the staff in his right hand... and now that he's closer to Killer, he appears shorter-

Horror: He stood up from his spot, walking to take place for a better view what Nightmare is doing

Nightmare: He looks over at Dust, hearing his complaints. Nm breaths heavily, exhausted from all the work he done Yes, right, energy. Go, go bring back dust and blood of the dead, I don't care who you terrorize, just go out there and burn a village down. Don't kill all the villagers this time, im straving (edited)

JakeFiber — Today at 8:25 AM

Dust:a cold and sinister smirk grew on the vampire’s face. You got it boss~ I’ll make them s c r e a m for you~ he zipped into the night at a rapid pace

JackieArtz — Today at 8:26 AM

Killer:he picked up his knife again before standing straight. His wings poked out from his cape and what do you want us to do boss?

Ggff5566 — Today at 8:28 AM

Nightmare: He leaned against his staff I need you to find Cross, you as well Horror. I require his assistant on knowledge. After that, Ill tell you all about the plan he yawns for now, I must rest... And just like that, he leans against his staff and falls asleep, clearly tuckered out

JackieArtz — Today at 8:36 AM

Killer: cross..? fine he spread his wings and flew off

Ggff5566 — Today at 8:37 AM

Horror: He looked up at Killer, sighing and followed on foot Why don't I have wings...

[8:37 AM]

(To someone? Good??

JakeFiber — Today at 8:38 AM

(shall we go to cross and cc now?

Ggff5566 — Today at 8:38 AM

(ye

JakeFiber — Today at 8:41 AM

Meanwhile, in a nearby village, cross and cc were laying low inside a busy tavern, hoods draped out their heads to keep them from being identified.

Cross:I hate this…we shouldn’t have to lay low like cowards. How much farther until we make it to the capital?

Cc:Oh we still got a ways to go cross. But I guess that’s just the repercussions of betraying nightmare. We have no choice but to lay low. Any monster loyal to that damn warlock is no doubt looking for us right now.

Cross:Let me remind you that it was your damn idea to betray him…he scolded a little, death glaring cc

Cc:Oh c’mon he was getting us nooowhere. We woulda been better off working for a damn tree. You know it’s true and you know deep down that you’re glad we got out of there…he said, crossing his arms and leaning back in his seat

Cross:he grumbled Still…I hate having to lay low like this…

JackieArtz — Today at 8:47 AM

Truth:they walked into the tavern. With tc following behind. They sat down near cross and cc

Tc:heavy metallic sounds were made when they stepped. Steam coming from their arm they had their hood up their glowing red eye scanned around the room

Truth: how far are we from the capital?

Tc: pretty far still but we should get there on time

JakeFiber — Today at 8:49 AM

Cc:he glanced over at the two strangers that just walked into the bar Hear that…? Seems like we’re not the only ones laying low~

Cross:Yeah yeah…I get it. Ur right and I’m wrong…let’s just drop it…

Cc:he suddenly stood up walking over towards tc and truth

Cross:wtf- where the hell are you going?! he whispered yelled

Cc:he sat down across from truth and tc Heya. Couldn’t help but overhear a conversation the two of you were having. Seems like we’re in the same boat. I’m cc btw.

JackieArtz — Today at 8:50 AM

Tc: they looked up at cc tc and yeah, you heading to the capital too?

Truth: truth..

Tc:they pulled the hood off holding their hand out pleasure to meet you

JakeFiber — Today at 8:51 AM

Cc:he did the same, shaking their hand Tc huh? That’s a nice name…and yeah…me and my uh…”partner” over there are on our way to the capital too…

JackieArtz — Today at 8:53 AM

Tc: thanks we could travel together if u want we are taking a short cut could always use a hand

JakeFiber — Today at 8:54 AM

Cc:Sounds good to me…he looked over at cross who was still glaring at him. He motioned him over. He heard the skeleton let out an audible sigh before taking a seat beside cc

JackieArtz — Today at 8:55 AM

Truth: they stared off clearly blind pleasure to meet you 2 we are off to meet dream especially after that attack-

Tc: ah truth we just met them they don't need to know our story.. they glared

Truth: your too walled off tc they took a drink of water

Ggff5566 — Today at 8:56 AM

(Truth: I just met you, so Ima tell you everything I know)

JackieArtz — Today at 8:56 AM

(I'm tell you everything I ever expirenced

Ggff5566 — Today at 8:57 AM

(Let u tell about my childhood in full detail

[8:57 AM]

(and like, no detail because they're blind XD

JakeFiber — Today at 8:57 AM

Cross:Woah hold on, back up real quick. Did you say dream…? As in the legendary hunter?

Cc:he looked a little dumbfounded Isn’t that nightmares b-

Cross:he quickly covered cc’s mouth What do you two have to do with him?

JackieArtz — Today at 8:57 AM

(HAHAH

[8:58 AM]

Truth: well recently we been requested to help out or more or less a meeting core set us off there

Tc: We work for core for the most part but since core and dream have a partnership Goin on we just going to meet a friend really

JakeFiber — Today at 9:01 AM

Cross:Where are they? Are they in the capital too?

Cc:he raised an eyebrow, wondering why the hell cross cares so much about Dream’s whereabouts

Ggff5566 — Today at 9:01 AM

(He wants that Dreamussy)

JackieArtz — Today at 9:02 AM

Tc: dream is at the capital obviously but core is off in their own save village as to where? Classified

JakeFiber — Today at 9:03 AM

Cross:Ok…you said you had a quick route to the capital right? We’ll accompany you there, if you don’t mind…

JackieArtz — Today at 9:04 AM

Tc: sure we should get going as soon as possible then they helped truth up if you don't mind?

JakeFiber — Today at 9:05 AM

Cross:I mean…we aren’t exactly doing anything so…might as well go now…

JackieArtz — Today at 9:06 AM

Tc: just follow us then they walked out

Truth: I can't wait to see them again

Tc: I can do without seeing ink..

Truth: whats wrong with him?

Tc: you didn't just ask me that seriously did u?

JakeFiber — Today at 9:08 AM

Cross:his eyesockets widened a little when they mentioned ink. He clenched his fist a little

Cc:Easy. he said whispering in cross’s non existent ear They’re our golden ticket to the capital. They seem like they know many people who can keep us safe too..

Cross:I know it’s just…if I ever have to see that damn idiot again…idk what I’ll do.

Cc:Well save it for when we get there, alright idiot?

JackieArtz — Today at 9:09 AM

Tc:they pulled their hood back up covering their entire face besides their eye which just glew red

Truth: did the 2 of you say something..?

JakeFiber — Today at 9:10 AM

Cc:Uh…it’s um…classified…

Cross:Yeah…r e a l l y classified…

JackieArtz — Today at 9:11 AM

Truth:...ok

Tc: so..small talk sucks

Truth: what conversation starter is that??? Why are u guys heading to the capital?

JakeFiber — Today at 9:15 AM

Cc:Look, just cuz you told us your life story doesn’t mean we have to. We aren’t a threat if that’s what you’re concerned about.

JackieArtz — Today at 9:18 AM

Tc: fair they nudged Truth shaking their head a bit

Truth: ow..I was just asking..

Tc: come on I didn't even nudge you that hard!

Truth: they shook Tc's arm metal

Tc: right anyways sorry about that cc don't mean to intrude (edited)

JakeFiber — Today at 9:24 AM

Cc:It’s fine…look…maybe down the road…we’ll tell you everything…but for now all we ask is that you trust us..

Cross:he stayed silent. He was never really good at negotiation like cc was. He hated cc’s manipulative side but damn did it have its uses at times

JackieArtz — Today at 9:26 AM

Tc: alright I can understand that but you understand why one would have suspicions you seem the type to understand that much they looked back at cc a bit seems like they were trying to read him

Truth:they just listened into the conversation not like they could do anything else. It was until they heard shuffling behind us someone's following us I suggest we speed up they are a bit farther behind us but it's better safe than sorry

Ggff5566 — Today at 9:30 AM

(Its the mailman, he's after ya. run

JakeFiber — Today at 9:31 AM

Cc:he obliged with Truth’s request, picking up the pace a little. He figured nightmare and his forces would come looking for them eventually

Cross:he stayed on guard, his hands close to his daggers

JackieArtz — Today at 9:32 AM

Tc:they summoned their shield with daggers at the end.

Truth:they kept listening in trying to pinpoint what It is big..it's a big person I think..? they sped up a bit

JakeFiber — Today at 9:34 AM

Cross:his eyes darted around extremely fast. The description that truth mentioned perfectly matched a monster he got to know all too well.

Cc:he let out a small gulp, readying his shield and sword

Ggff5566 — Today at 9:35 AM

(This my cue?

JakeFiber — Today at 9:35 AM

(Ye

JackieArtz — Today at 9:35 AM

*the only reason they aren't picking up on killer is bc he's in the air))

Ggff5566 — Today at 9:37 AM

Horror: For such a big monster, he hid well, but I guess not well enough. Horror sensed their unease and decided to strike now. His club with a single metal spike going through the top was thrown towards the group. Horror had emerged from shrubs, his single maroon eye beating with slight bloodlust (edited)

JackieArtz — Today at 9:39 AM

Truth: they summoned the force field

Killer:he appeared right behind truth impressive you can pick up on horror from a mile away but not me who was a whole lot closer

Truth:their eyes widened as they quickly turned around

JakeFiber — Today at 9:41 AM

Cc:they lunged into the air, bashing killer away with their shield

Cross:he quickly pulled out his daggers, charging towards Horror, wall jump side to side before striking at his face

Ggff5566 — Today at 9:43 AM

Horror: He leaned away from the daggers, barely avoiding the attack. Horror ran full force into Cross, in attempt to pin him against a nearby wall Easy Crossy, just wanna chat! A hint of malicious in the words

JackieArtz — Today at 9:45 AM

Killer:he backed up oh you little shit- but it's true we just wanted to scare ya~ we need to talk

JakeFiber — Today at 9:46 AM

Cross:Gah! he struggled a little What the hell is there even to talk about?!

Cc: he took a few deep breaths

Ggff5566 — Today at 9:47 AM

Horror: He grabbed Cross by the collar of his shirt and slammed him harshly into the ground next, going to remove the daggers off his person Boss needs ya he chuckled

JackieArtz — Today at 9:48 AM

Killer: true we just need you to give us some information~

Tc:they went to go fight but truth held them still

JakeFiber — Today at 9:48 AM

Cross:he suddenly plunged his daggers into horror’s palms, shoving them in handle deep Tell your boss to go fuck himself. he free’d himself from horror’s grasp

JackieArtz — Today at 9:49 AM

Tc:they pushed truth off a bit dashing towards horror to make him back up

Truth:they took the opportunity to make a forcefield ti separate them

Ggff5566 — Today at 9:51 AM

Horror: Argh! He stepped back, holding his hurt palm, blood spilling from his bones Wished ya stayed with us, Cross. Missed havin' ya around. Just come with us, short chat with the boss, no mor' harm Horror finds his club he'd thrown, taking back onto his person

JackieArtz — Today at 9:52 AM

Killer: come on no hard feelings sure your friends here didn't know who ya work for doubt they trust ya now~

JakeFiber — Today at 9:52 AM

Cross:Tsk. Right…like I’d believe that anything involved with nightmare wouldn’t bring me harm.

Cc: Yeah. You’ll probably tie us up and kill us once our usefulness runs out. And we were…gonna tell them eventually…he looked off to the side

JackieArtz — Today at 9:54 AM

Tc:they stared for a bit

Truth:..they thought for a minute

Ggff5566 — Today at 9:54 AM

Horror: Promise, cross (pun) me gem and hope to dust He grins That we won't harm ya. Besides... boss wants you alive. Rather not cause issues here and now, unless you want it the hard way... (edited)

JackieArtz — Today at 9:55 AM

Killer: I personally don't get why but he doesn't seem like he's mad...much

[9:57 AM]

(Anyways I'm here at kings island now so If I stop responding that why)

JakeFiber — Today at 9:57 AM

Cross:…Fine…but I do this last thing for you guys and then I’ll be gone. You’ll never see me or look for me again…deal?

Ggff5566 — Today at 9:57 AM

(thats fine

JakeFiber — Today at 9:57 AM

(Aight

JackieArtz — Today at 9:57 AM

Killer: deal~ I don't think he cares for the kid he only said cross

Ggff5566 — Today at 9:57 AM

Horror: He hums

JakeFiber — Today at 9:59 AM

Cross:he took a deep breath Alright cc…go on to the capital without me…

Cc:What- No! I’m not just gonna leave you! I maybe an asshole but I’m not just gonna abandon you!

Cross:Listen…if I don’t make it back…atleast I know that you have somewhat of a future for yourself still…so just go…

Cc:he teared up a little, wiping them away God damnit…he looked over at truth and tc

JackieArtz — Today at 10:00 AM

Tc:they nodded slowly frowning under the hood seems like they didn't mind cc coming along both truth and tc obviously felt bad

Ggff5566 — Today at 10:03 AM

Horror: He waits to escort Cross back to their base

JakeFiber — Today at 10:03 AM

Cross: Alright…let’s just go already…

JackieArtz — Today at 10:06 AM

Killer: good~

[hopeful-hugz]

A Masked Stranger Called Out: Notes echo out from another world... ^ < < ^ A >

@pureposer Called Out: Shout it he will - even deciding to use his Normal Vocals. After all, that's like two people Talking at once! (At least, it sounds like it). Though he shall not say it, rather, he'll Scream it! Scream it as Loud as Possible - "LILLIUM!!" - as he stood a top the Government Building. Blowing his Voice out is a Small Price to pay for having a Hand in Saving STM's Greatest Doctor, after all. He even decided to roll out the -um part, hoping that'd help somehow. He hopes it does.

@fallenphxtxgrapher Called Out: “ ^ < < ^ A > “ Joel....may be passed out on the couch right now but Lee...well the noise managed to get to the reaper's guitar and pluck out the right melody. don't ask why he knows how to do that

@strawberry-barista / @falseapostle / @enchantedbrew Called Out: Espresso: ^ < < ^ A > Nitro: "Lillium!" Decaf: ^ < < ^ A > . . . "Lillium." Haruto: "Lillium." ∎∎∎∎∎: ^ < < ^ A >

A Masked Stranger Called Out: ^ < < ^ A >

@abstractreign Called Out: From within his own corner of the cosmos, a worn-down Composer hisses out, "Lillium."

@fairymint Called Out: ^ < < ^ A >

@kingsmedley Called Out: ^ < < ^ A > Leeky is playing his piccolo!

@kingsmedley Called Out: Every single instrument in Highness's Shibuya comes to life at once, all blaring the same tune, over and over again. ^ < < ^ A >

@lollipopsandgunshots Called Out: There's yelling from a certain Reaper couple. "Give up, Lilliyum! Hope's got a lot of friends that love her, and we're not backing down!" - Kariya "This is for Hope and for all you've done to her, so leave her alone, Lilliyum!" - Uzuki

@the-rat-house​ Called Out: Lillium!!!

389 Other Masked Voices From Across Space and Time in Unison: Lillium

THRESHOLD SHATTERED | RESULT: S++

MARIA’S HOLD: -400%

“What-”

One by one, the voices flood through the the air of Meyth; the aether name and the spoken one. No one had come to the group’s aid before, only checked in- she’d been watching. “How!? No one was responding before! I made sure of it!”

“It seems they were just waiting for the right moment.” A hand is thrust forward, a void tendril piercing the the space directly between the eyes of Hope’s body. Naturally there’s an attempt to fight back, but against the bonds and the flood of music and voices, there’s no way for Maria to keep controlling the body properly. Though Teal does rush in to further restrict the aether as well, as to make sure Cam isn’t harmed during the procedure.

“I believe it’s about time you gave the good doctor back her form, Mother.” Chamyle yanks at the string of shadow and void, pulling the purebred out and flinging her down the beach. The creation being tumbles and roll, sliding to a halt at the feet of a shadow, who looks from Maria, to her now-slumped and hollow identity, then to her best friend. The one smiling right at her.

“I’ve dealt my judgement as Archivist, as has the entire multiverse you’ve saved before you. Now it’s time to deal yours.”

To this there’s a nod and Hope sprints for her body.

What follows is a blinding light that shoots into the air with a force that prompts Teal, Chamyle and Noir to all step back and shield their eyes from the scattering sands. In the sky it fades enough to catch the form of a half breed, powered up by the remnants of raw aether energy. She stays in the air for a moment, the elements of creation itself seeming to react to her presence as she relishes in being reunited with who she is. Then Hope sets her gaze on her mother, the woman who had caused her loved ones nothing but suffering and peace quickly turns to rage.

A beat. Then she charges directly into Maria; vanishing from sight for a moment.

Silence.

From the decrepit lab on the cliffs, where the weapon had been born and abandoned; raised by a monster- there’s a blinding light. Maria being dragged through equipment and thrown into the building’s old walls relentlessly. White blood coats the floors and countertops, stains tools as she tries to fight back against her daughter and successors unending assault, but she’s powerless to stop it. The moment there’s a pause, she tries to flee to the skies, only to find a barrier in place made by her own son; aiding his sister in ensuring the weakened aether purebred falls here and now.

The entire world is set into stasis and Hope, having gotten her anger out speaks.

“Lillium “Maria” Hugz. The multiverse has found you guilty of countless crimes against nature, the laws of space-time and of individual universes.” With every word she draws closer, taking out the world core of Meyth itself.

“When did you get that-” 

“But I’m not going to sentence you for those, as much as I’d like to: As the Aether Being of multiple iterations of Shibuya, you’ve committed several wrongs against the people in those cities; as well as against me, personally.” The aether throws the core into the air, charging and taking hold of the the part of Maria’s tail that connected her body to her torso. A hand is held out for the core to return to her free hand and it’s held against her mother’s rune marking. Naturally there’s struggling, which is put a stop to by her own tail, not caring how much of her mothers blood stains her fur and body. “I learned my lesson of what your plans are if I kill you. Your remaining fragments will join the ones already scattered throughout space and time; among your alternates. So I’m not going to give you the satisfaction of a true death.”

“I sentence you to be sealed away with your creations, and for this core to be sealed away further still. You will never see the light of the moon or Aether Realms again. I’m sure the Composers and Producers I’m under won’t have an issue with this.”

The Barrier is released as Hope sends Chamyle, Teal and Noir out of the universe, as well as any of their belongings that remained in this universe. Then the core is pushed into Maria’s rune...

“...Goodbye Mother... I’m sorry it had to end like this...”

...And the elder aether is absorbed into it with a finally high pitched frequency. 

The world around Hope starts following suit and crumbling around her as she touches the ground, tail returning to wings and the full aether status fading from her form. She looks out over the town she grew up in; a world she barely got to know... and she can’t help tearing up a little.

“Goodbye Meyth... Goodbye Comalia... I hope you find peace in your eternal rest.” With that, the half breed vanishes from view, leaving the world to be sealed in the core she now held.

#pureposer #fallenphxtxgrapher #strawberry-barista #falseapostle #enchantedbrew #kingsmedley #abstractreign #fairymint #lollipopsandgunshots #the-rat-house #Star Callings || Asks #Storybook Scraps || Drabbles #Mother Dearest || Maria #Paranormal Problem-Solver || Chamyle #Stone Soldier || Teal #Voidling Troublemaker || Noir #Multiversal MD || Hope #Moving the Story Along || Plot

[starklyscifi]

Don't Forget To Clean Your Portal

(a flash fiction story by EJ Stark)

The summer I was sixteen, a black hole appeared in my closet. I don’t mean that my closet, like any teenage girl’s closet, was a black hole, but that a literal hole appeared in the corner and I couldn’t see anything inside of it. It was there for months, had to have been, before I discovered it.

Technically, it was a portal.

I know because I threw a shoe into it at one point and it vanished.

There was no thud.

It was my best sneaker, the left one from my pair of red Converse. I don’t know why I threw it into the void. That was back when it was barely big enough to fit a shoe and I was just freaked out by the whole thing. I think it might have been the day I noticed it for the first time.

The portal was probably eating those lip glosses that I couldn’t find. They rolled out of my bag, thrown on the floor, and right into another dimension.

It was a sunny August afternoon, I had been home for school for an hour and was just extracting my face from my pillow. I went looking for something in my closet, I don’t remember what, but it was probably one of those lip glosses. I ventured deep into the depths of the closet, back where the tops I’d outgrown in middle school resided, feeling around on the carpet.

I stuck my hand into the void and screamed.

It was a good thing that the portal was only the size of that Converse because otherwise I would have fallen in.

Sweat instantly sprang up on my back, sticking my t-shirt to my skin. Mom was going to loose her shit over this. She already spent enough time yelling at me about the state of my room and let’s not talk about what happened the time I punched a wall in the dry wall by flinging open the bathroom door with way too much dramatic flair.

I kicked a pile of clothes and a few books back into the closet and pulled the doors shut.

This was a problem because I always left the doors to my closet open, it was easier to see what was going on that way.

A problem because as soon as my mom walked into the room, in the middle of a story about her shitty coworker Jerry at the accounting firm, she made a beeline to my closet.

“What are you hiding in here now?”

I blamed the sweat trickling down my face on the fact it was August and we didn’t have AC. Mom told me to go take a shower before dinner, I was a sweaty mess. I guess she just missed the portal in the back of the closet.

It was pretty small at that point.

It didn’t stay small.

I measured it, every day. I took the tape measure out of the junk drawer in the kitchen in that space of time when I got home from school and before Mom got home from the office. I’d sneak up to my room, even though I was the only one in the house, and observe that the hole had grown three to four inches from the day before. I didn’t really need the tape measure to tell me the thing swallowing my closet was getting bigger.

I threw a lot of things into the void. Even as it grew, bigger and bigger by inches every day and became harder and harder to hide from my mother, it was also a helpful sort of thing to have around.

On a Saturday, I heard her coming home an hour earlier than I expected, and I had laundry that I was supposed to fold and put away while she was out still sitting in a heap on my floor. I panicked and threw it all into the void and then partially closed the closet door again, to cover the gaping nothingness in the closet.

She asked me several times why I stopped wearing that blue shirt from Aunt Cindy.

I loved that blue shirt from Aunt Cindy.

But like I said, I panicked.

I used to sleep with the door to my room open, I didn’t like the closed off feeling of it being shut all night. But the portal was starting to peak out from underneath the coats and dressing hanging in the closet, emerging from the shadows into the sunlight. Becoming something that my mom couldn’t miss if she so much looked in the direction of my closet.

It had been three months since the portal first started eating my closet.

Jamie came over that week. The week that the portal was now the fully visible to anyone who stepped in my room. Mom hadn’t noticed it because she was too busy interrogating me for what I must be trying to hide from her now that I was constantly shutting my door.

Jamie and I were standing in front of the closet and I was freaking out about the portal, pent up anxiety making me talk a mile a minute.

“There’s nothing there, Erin.”

She turned her head and looked me straight in the eyes, her eyes a little dead. “There’s nothing in your closet.”

We both burst out laughing. It was a nice day, the crisp air outside wafting in through the open window, and I felt relief at having told someone about this thing that had been slowly swallowing my life. We left to go get smoothies.

I never saw the gaping void in my closet again. It was some sort of psychosomatic teenage manifestation of anxiety. My Psych 101 professor agreed. Although I do wonder what I actually did with that left red Converse and the blue shirt from Aunt Cindy.

“But of course it was real, that was the year the aliens first came to Earth, there were portals everywhere,” Mother says, controlled by a little gray thing sitting on top of her head.

“We all just pretended not to see them for the first while, they didn’t want to be observed,” Mother continues, the little gray thing opening and closing its mouth but the voice coming from her throat.

I’m not sure why mine has allowed me to go on this ramble.

Perhaps it was bored.

#flash fiction #writing #writerblr #writblr #starkly mine #horror #sci fi #horror writer #horror story #original writing #original fiction #fiction #writing community #short story #flash fiction friday

[sakebytheriver]

Banging my head against the wall, flinging things out of the window, and screaming into the void and hoping it yells back at me to shut up because I am so unbelievably frustrated! Sorry I have to vent-is it okay if I vent here? About a month ago, my friend and I were talking about age gaps in relationships and she was like “well, me and ‘s’ had a big age gap and it was wrong and no one stopped/ protected me.”

So I’m like ????? Girl what? “S was only a few years older than us and you were like 19/20 when you started dating. That’s not a huge gap.“

And she’s like “no he was almost five years older than me.”

So I looked at her and was like…girl no he was not. But also fine who am I to argue about his age. Maybe he was. I let it go because she was getting teary eyed about it, and I wasn’t going to push it because I remembered she told me he was horrible to her anyway and I didn’t want to dredge that up again.

But I’m FURIOUS because now she sends me a screenshot of a recent convo with ‘s’ and I’m like??????? Girl wtf? “When did you start talking to him?” And she’s like “a few months ago.”

And I’m just!!!!! “Why are you talking to him? You said he was horrible, you insinuated multiple horrible things that happened with him and that your age gap was a problem. So???”

And she’s just like “idk”

I am. I am. OUTDONE. Maybe I shouldn’t care but like I dealt with the drama behind him and put up with her and him and their shit and I’m just over it.

Oh geez that's definitely a lot 😭😭😭

Your friend kinda sounds like someone who wants romantic attention and doesn't really care who gives it to her, even if they're horrible to her, there's a lot of people like that who have the insecurity that no one will want them and when someone does they think it's a miracle and so they'll do anything they can to keep the other person's attention even when the attention is harmful

Of course, she could also just be a drama sponge so like what do I know 😭

If you're looking for advice here I'd say just tell her to block him or stop talking to him and make it very clear that you are being the person warning her away from this guy this time around and then just let her do what she's gonna do, if she doesn't listen to you that's on her and what happens next is not on you

It's wicked frustrating to have to just say your piece and then take a step back, but that's kinda what you gotta do here 😬😭

You could also tell her that you dealt with the drama last time and if she goes ahead and ignores every red flag and gets back with him that you're not interested in dealing with drama this time around and that anytime she comes to you with it your response will always be to dump him 😂😂 but idk if that'll go over well with a girl like that 😭

In the end, whatever she does isn't on you, and if she's repeatedly falling into this kind of behavior and it's having a negative impact on your life then you might have to make the choice to step away from that friendship, but that's definitely the nuclear option

I hope youre not stressing yourself too much over this and that venting to me helped a little 😂 💕 come back anytime you need 😁

#ignore me #anon #aonymous #ask #answered #advice #vent #long post

[moonlightheretic]

WIP Wednesday Two Queen (Perilous conversations)

MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE HERETIC 

this is a rough draft. 

CW for suggestions of assault. 

“That doesn’t answer my question though. Why are you only afraid for Dal’nim?”

“Solas has Mythal’s power, Talek. I have no idea how much he absorbed of her. Mythal extends her life by using the bodies of her daughters. Solas has Dal’Nim and a part of Mythal lives within him. If a part of her lives within him, it means she is gone otherwise…she doesn’t have a body.”

There was silence from the other side for a pronounced pregnant moment.

“I don’t understand.”

Frustration consumed me and my fist slammed into the door with a dust scattering thud.

“Hey, hey!” Talek protested from beyond the door.

“I have met her daughter-er, Morrigan---you don’t need to fucking understand, otherwise we will be here for a millennium!” I snapped as hot tears flooded my vision.

Talek didn’t protest my outburst, his answer was further silence.

“I am dying.” I answered the question not asked, in a matter-of-fact manner. There was no use in hiding it any longer.

I heard a small gasp pass through the thick door, and I observed the faint light provided by my glowing appendage.

“The only reason the Anchor on my hand hasn’t consumed me is because Solas has sealed it…but its only temporary.”

“He is keeping you alive then!? For what!?” Talek probed, panic stricken. “I…I don’t know what to say. I- “

“What will remain of my legacy? The inquisition is corrupt. I have failed in everything I set out to accomplish. I thought I earned his trust but…even that eludes me. Another failure.” I shook my head, tears flinging in each direction.

“Moon’Hw—”

“I couldn’t find the journal; I couldn’t find the Idol. I can’t stop him…Talek, he is keeping me alive to activate artifacts. There is only one left. Only one left before it all tumbles down.”

“Moon’Hwa, I don’t understand! You must explain!” Talek urged.

“It won’t matter either way.” I sighed.

“Fucking void, Moon’Hwa stop keeping me in the dark!” Now it was his turn to bang on the poor door.

“Where do I even begin?” My palms flattened against the floor. “Do I start with the fact that Father gave me to him in a trade to keep our mother alive? That he could relay orders to me using his mind? Or that to sever that connection I had to murder mother in cold blood?” My eyes clamped shut. “That my father’s ancestor bound himself and his bloodline to Fen’Harel? That when Father died, he now guards the sanctuary as a spirit? And despite it all, the worst part is I still love him. I still love Solas. It hurts so much Talek, why on earth do you wish to know? Why?” I wept, sobs bursting from my throat like lava exploding from a volcano.

I heard a shuffling behind the door and then nothing.

My head curled into my knees as the tsunami of emotion absorbed me.

“Move away from the door!” Talek yelled.

I didn’t move an inch, drowning in my misery, his voice didn’t even register.

The door shook with considerable force, dust and clumps of the frame rained down.

I gasped and rolled out of the way, “Its magically sealed! You can’t force it down!” I screamed and took shelter behind my cot.

Another resounding blast, and the door crumbled into dust. I covered my eyes as light assaulted my sight. I peeked through and winced.

Talek stood victorious with a silver sword throbbing crimson and gold, runes glowing from the reinforced blade.

“…How?”

Talek sheathed it behind his back. “Pretends to be a blacksmith you say. I think I did a pretty fine job.”

His eyes met my stunned ones and he huffed, “I had fire ruins inlaid throughout the entire blade, the door was sealed with ice magic….” Talek looked around the disintegrating room and grimaced in disgust, “…No wonder its so wet in here. Could at least given you a room with better drainage.”

I stood there in absolute amazement. “I thought they disarmed you when you entered this place…”

“Yeah, well I didn’t let them discover them all.” He shrugged.

“I don’t understand.” I stated, completely perplexed.

“That makes two of us.” Talek extended his hand.

#The Heretic #chapter27 #solas angst #WIP Wednesday #solas is fen'harel #solas fic #epictragedy

[uwuderes]

I have to say and request this, Rex Splode firework request, bro, him giving his object of desire a private firework show just to get in his darlings pants is just so on point for the season! Bonus points for being dicked down somewhere up against a tree, bark digging into those arms as they try and hold themselves together, double down with potential marking with a burning slap to that ass *chef kiss*

Warning- Blood, Non-Con, Gaslighting

After Samantha had turned his second chance down, oh he was pissed. He wasn't perfect, what more did she want from him? He tried getting with other chicks but nothing seemed to fit the void he created in his own life. So after about a month of trying to find a new fling he met you. Kate had brought you over after they had a successful mission and wanted you to tag along for the celebration. So Rex of course flirted with you and eventually got your number.

But this particular night he was so starved of attention he found himself drifted away to the middle of the woods and his phone in hand about to call you.

So if Rex had anyone on his side right now who would give him the validation he desperately needed, it would be you.

“Hey (Y/n), you free?”

“Yeah, I'm just locking up at work. It's pretty late though, are you alright?”

“(Y/n) I'm a fucking superhero for god's sake, I'm perfectly fine. But I do have a surprise for you.”

“Oh Rex, that's so sweet of you. Where am I going again?”

“Outside the woods behind the headquarters. I'll pick you up.”

❀

“Your missions are always so cool, It makes me wish I had some cool powers so I could help.” You rambled as Rex flipped another coin into the air, the loud pop catching you off guard.

“Nah you don't want that it's far too dangerous for someone as fragile as you,” Rex commented. His hair hung freely in front of his face, he felt freer than ever when around you. So might as well get comfortable right? “So how's the surprise huh? Isn't this just perfect?”

“I love it out here so peaceful and quiet. Plus It's nice that your giving me my own fireworks show.” You enthused. Rex smiled you going for another coin but he stopped himself.

“(Y/n) Looks like I ran out of change, shit. I'm so sorry, but I'm sooo happy to hear that you had such a good time. You know Id only do this type of shit for you. So I think I deserve something in return.” Rex moved closer to you placing his hand on your knee. You jumped and moved to the side.

“Oh- Um Rex… I'm sorry I just thought-” Rex quickly shushed you placing his finger over your lips. He then moved back towards you, even closer, to the point where you could feel his breath fanning over your face. Rex then quickly latched himself onto your lips. You banged against his chest immediately making him pull away.

“What the fuck!” Rex yelled at you. You started gathering all your stuff, Rex starting to panic. “Wait don't go, just calm down you're being dramatic.”

“I'm going home. Ill… I'll call you tomorrow.”

“No!” Rex yanked you back down. He didn't know what came over him, it felt like a mixture of things. Rage, Lust, Greed… it all flew past him and every ounce of sense in him left as he started to choke you. You clawed at his hands starting to gasp, You reached for a nearby rock and bashed him on the side of his head.

Rex yelled out letting go of you. You scurried off into the forest, leaving everything behind. Rex groaned out, and pulled a coin out of his pocket, throwing it at your belongings. That should take care of you trying to come back and get help. Rex stumbled to his feet looking down at his hand, not seeing any blood. He chuckled to himself before going after you.

You had no clue where you were and eventually you collapsed falling to the ground. You caught your breath.

What was his deal… He seemed so nice…

Then you felt a sharp pain in your leg. You screamed out looking back and seeing a disheveled Rex. He pushed his hair out of his face looking down at where his foot was planted in your knee, surely dislocating it. “There you are, you ran off so quickly… Almost forgot to destroy that fucking phone of yours.”

Rex pulled you up, pinning you to a tree. He kissed at your neck and ground against you Rex loved every fucking second of it. He loved to hear your stifled moans, you were trying so hard to not enjoy this. turning him on even more. He tore through your top and popped your bra in the process. “I would love to take my time with your slutty body but I really just want to own the shit out of you.”

“Please! Rex, I just want to go home…” You cried out gripping onto his shoulders. You clung on desperately, your leg burning to the point where even Rex could feel it.

“You had your fucking chance! Now give me what. I. Want!” Rex tore off your bottoms and held you up on a tree on one arm and unzipped his pants freeing himself with the other. You could feel the heat radiating off him that's how turned on he was. “Now sit still.”

Then Rex filled you completely, all in one jab. You cried out as he picked you up and started a rough and quick pace. His pants rubbed against your cunt giving you more stimulation, Rex loved that even he can pick it out. Your legs wrapped around him pulling him close.

“You love that huh… You need this… Your fucking mine!” Rex pushed you further into the tree covering both of you in splinters. You looked off to the side not wanting to face Rex. He didn't like that at all, was he not doing good enough. Rex quickly pulled a coin from his pocket and activated his power, and slaps your ass. That would for sure get your attention back to him. You screamed out and dug your nails into the tree. It burned everything burned.

"That's going to fucking hurt in the morning, and I don't really fucking care!"

“I'm gonna fucking cum, you better do it too!” Rex growled and kissed you, both of your moans filling each other's mouths. Rex pulled away his pace getting faster, placing his forehead on your own. “Tell me you love me…”

“I-I…. I love y-you Rex…” You mumbled and stuttered out.

“Oh, that's it… that's fucking it.” Rex groaned dumping his cum inside you. Rex moved his hand to your clit rubbing quickly. You came a few seconds after. Your vision went spotty as he dropped you to the ground.

“Wow you losing a lot of blood there, don't worry Ill patch you right up. I hope you liked the fireworks.”

#invincible #yandere invinvible #reader insert #yandere rex splode #rex splode x reader #rex splode #yandere x reader #yandere

[maybankiara]

TELL ME, IS IT WORTH IT?

pairing: JJ Maybank x Pope Heyward

summary: Pope proposes, JJ panics, and now he’s trying to explain why he said no (and why he shouldn’t have done it.)

w/c: 3.7k

a/n: angst with a happy ending, ignore all the typos bc this is entirely unedited (i might edit in the future)

masterlist | tag list

read on archive of our own

It’s really unfair that when someone’s life falls apart, the world itself doesn’t. JJ thinks it should. It should be raining knives, hailing bullets, volcanoes should be exploding and the ground shaking shouldn’t be just his personal experience of reality. 

But it’s not even a moderately hot day. It’s breezy, it’s perfect, and it’s one of the nicest days of the fucking whole year. 

JJ hates it. 

The Chateau has only got John B and Kiara under its roof when he barges in, teeth gripping on the cap of a beer bottle. ‘Don’t ask,’ he states, then drops in the empty space between the two on the couch. His legs find their home on the coffee table and he nearly downs the bottle. Burps. Sighs, dramatically. 

He knows they’re exchanging glances, but he chooses to ignore it. 

Kie’s consoling hand lands on his shoulder. ‘What ha—’

‘Pope asked me to marry him,’ he says, ‘and I said no. And I also said I think it’s never going to happen.’

John B should’ve made a dumb comment. Kie should’ve made a sarcastic remark. But they didn’t, and they won’t, because JJ feels the gravity of the situation weighting down his lungs. (It feels like being torn up inside out, like his heart is chewing on itself out of anger, or sadness, or betrayal. It feels like the moment when your heart skips a beat and you think this is it, this is how I die, except you don’t; except you’re stuck in that moment forever.)

JJ burps. It chips at the silence, but it doesn’t break it. Kie’s hand on his shoulder is frozen and the distance between him and John B seems like an ocean. 

‘Yeah,’ says JJ. ‘I don’t think that was what he expected.’

A sigh comes from Kie, but he doesn’t look. ‘When was this?’

‘About twenty minutes ago. I drove straight here.’

‘Drunk?’ asks John B. 

‘Does it matter? I’m here now. Safe and sound.’ He lets out a dry chuckle before he can stop himself, and shakes his head. ‘Physically, anyway.’

‘You’re not drunk,’ says Kie. It sounds a little like a scoff, so JJ looks at her, but he can’t figure out what her face is saying. Tight lips scream anger, but her eyes are soft as ever, maybe a little concerned. She glances between him and John B with one of her eyebrows slightly raised. ‘He’s a heartbroken idiot, but not drunk.’

‘Ah. Understandable. Should I—’

‘You know what being a heartbroken idiot means.’ Kie pushes herself off the couch and when JJ glances at his other friend, John B’s just as confused as he is. ‘I know a thing or two about getting your heart broken for a dumb reason. You two sort that out, and I’ll make sure Pope’s okay. Let me know when you’ve knocked some sense into him.’

Before either of the boys manage to comprehend her words, she’s out the door. The Kie-shaped void on JJ’s left side feels a little odd, so he pushes himself into that side of the couch. The beer is bitter at the back of his throat; he wishes some music would be playing. 

John B calls his name, so JJ looks at him. He’s giving him the puppy eyes, trying to get him to talk, and it’s because neither of them really know how to start. (Their affection is physical, not verbal. Kie’s the one who’s good at that. Pope is—)

‘Did you panic?’ asks John B. 

JJ shakes his head. ‘Don’t think so. Not until after I’ve said it, anyway.’

‘So what happened?’

There’s a pause, JJ feels his brow furrow, and then: ‘I don’t know.’

‘…you don’t know?’

‘No.’

‘So you panicked.’

‘No, I didn’t, it’s—’ With a sigh, JJ accepts the momentary defeat. He glances over and sees John B’s signature stare full of indecipherable intent, but nothing less than pure kindness. They’ve had their bumps, but they always came out on top. It’s the pogue way. Even if John B wears that stupid bandanna around his neck well into his married life of his late twenties. ‘I knew the answer was no.’

It’s John B’s turn to frown. ‘You’ve thought about it?’

‘No, I just knew. Like you know the ocean is salty.’

‘You know that because you’ve tasted it before,’ counters John B. ‘I doubt you’ve been proposed to before.’

‘I could’ve been!’ 

All John B offers is a long stare yet that is enough. He’s older by only a few months, but he’s also married and didn’t say no to the proposal (granted, it was him proposing to Sarah, but still) and kind of has got his life together. He’s still JJ’s dumb older brother, but he knows something JJ doesn’t. 

‘How did you know you wanted to marry Sarah?’ 

‘Are you reconsidering your answer?’

‘No, I just—’ JJ sighs again and tries to wish another bottle into appearing in his hand. Doesn’t work. Probably for the better. He just leans his head back on the couch and stares at the ceiling, connecting the dots in his mind. ‘I don’t know what I’m doing. I just want you to tell me how you knew.’

He hears shuffling, and then feels John B’s feet in his lap. (He’s not going to comment on the boat shoes. There’s been enough deflecting. He’s got to listen, because Pope is threatening to burst into the forefront of his mind any second now.)

John B gives out the deep, heavy sigh that only comes with a slight aah whenever he’s about to tell a story. ‘When we were young, she made everything come alive. Everything looked brighter and clearer, and it was like I could finally breathe with the entirety of my lungs.’

JJ closes his eyes, trying not to gag. ‘Bro. I’m not listening to that.’

‘But that’s how I knew!’ He could just hear the grouch in his friend’s voice and now he’s threading the fine line between laughing and gagging. ‘Seriously, JJ, you asked. I don’t— I don’t know what to say. I don’t think you’re taking this seriously enough.’

‘I am.’

‘No, you’re not. You’re deflecting.’

‘Big word.’

‘See?’ John B scrunches his nose, shaking his head. His thumb and index finger grip the bridge of his nose. ‘I know you’re confused. And scared. I know you panicked when Pope asked, but I don’t think you understand how horrible is the thing you’ve done.’

‘It’s not like I broke his heart,’ scoffs JJ, but the words are flat and his heart skips another beat. He doesn’t need to look at John B to knows he’s got his head in his hands. ‘C’mon, it’s Pope. He’s tougher than he looks.’

‘Yes, but he proposed, JJ. He asked to spend the rest of his life with you and you said no!’

‘I didn’t say no to that!’ JJ flings himself off the couch and now he’s pacing around the living room of the Chateau, marching circles around the coffee table. His forehead is pulsating; he’s probably having a heart attack. That’d explain a lot. ‘I said no to getting married.’

‘That’s the same thing.’

‘It isn’t.’

‘It is.’

‘It really isn’t, John B,’ he spits out. Christ, he’s getting hot. Is that his blood boiling? ‘Marriage is… It’s taxes. It’s prenups. It’s joint bank accounts, it’s added tension, it’s fucked up. Half of the marriages don’t even last.’

(Pope’s always talked about getting married. When gay marriage was legalised, before they were together, before they were out of the closet, even then he was openly delighted about it. He’s been talking about the two of them getting married for a while now, or at least hinting at it. 

He should’ve expected it. It didn’t come out of the blue. He saw the signs, just ignored them, because… because…)

‘If you’re scared marriage is going to ruin your relationship, JJ, I’ll have you know you’ve already done that yourself.’ 

This is about the point where everything just… It comes crashing down. The world does end the way JJ wanted it to. 

He feels himself growing very, very still, like when he was younger and his father raised a hand. He feels his breath halting in his throat and ears tuning out all sound, repeating John B’s words over and over until the echo became the echo of itself. He could feel the ground opening beneath him despite not moving an inch. 

When gravity drags you down to earth, your rose-tinted glasses shatter like porcelain. 

He sees Pope’s face of shock, then laughter, then embarrassment and betrayal at once, once he’s realised JJ isn’t joking. He sees him get up from his knees, hands shaking as JJ fumbles over his words, unable to find an explanation or an excuse. He feels cold sweat breaking out on his forehead, blood turning to ice in his hands. He sees his mum leaving, his dad’s hand raised; he sees people arguing and JJ wants to cover his ears. He sees himself, alone, alone, alone. 

And he sees Pope turning his back to him. Quietly. He doesn’t even argue back. Just takes the no and i’m sorry, i can’t do this, it’s never going to happen, not like this and doesn’t say a word. Just walks away. 

It’d be easier if he screamed at JJ. At least he’d know how to deal with that. 

Pope’s heartbreak is the quiet kind, the one that doesn’t ask for attention, just the opposite. Usually JJ’s there to hold his hand, to sit by his side until Pope’s ready to talk about it, or be somewhere around, far enough so that Pope deals with things himself, but close enough so that he’s there if he’s needed. He’s never been the reason for the quiet. 

Fire replaces the ice. JJ feels like the sun itself is tearing him open. 

‘Shit,’ he says. ‘Fuck.’ Then raises his eyes until he meets John B’s, blurry and barely visible. ‘I fucked up.’

He doesn’t realise he’s shaking until his knees buckle under his weight and he stumbles to find his footing. John B shoots from the couch and pulls him into a hug, wrapping his arms around him so tight JJ couldn’t have escaped if he wanted to. He didn’t. He wanted to be held, even if by a friend. 

He doesn’t sob because the sob gets caught in his throat, too, but he lets out a cough that says all the same. ‘It would’ve been easier if you yelled at me.’

‘I know.’ John B pats his back, letting JJ rest his weight unto him. ‘Pope will understand. That’s why Kie went to talk to him. As long as you realise you’re hurting everyone by being an idiot, you can make it better.’

‘I thought—’ He stops, because his words get fumbled again, and now he’s pressing his eyes into his friend’s shoulder like he’s all he’s got. ‘I don’t want to hurt anyone again.’

‘You’re not going to, okay? Just… Marriage is not all taxes, and you gotta understand that. It’s about knowing that if they get hurt, you’ll be allowed to see them. That you can get a house together, that you can look after each other if something goes wrong. That what you have is there to stay. Think of it as a promise.’

JJ snorts, but he doesn’t let go. ‘I don’t do well with people promising things to me.’

‘Then promise it to yourself,’ counters John B. The way he puts it makes it sound it’s as easy as breathing – JJ wishes he could feel the same. ‘Promise to stay with him. Promise to be around if something bad happens, but if something good happens, too. That’s what marriage is.’

‘I already promised that,’ he says. ‘His future and mine are the same.’

‘Then what’s the problem? Marriage is just making it legal. Making it formal. When what you have is honest and true, it doesn’t change anything. It just makes things better.’

JJ pulls out, feeling confident he can stand on his own two feet. He still feels a little lightheaded, but the thought of Pope possibly thinking that spending the rest of their lives together is the last thing JJ would want… That is the last thing JJ would want. Pope hurting because of him. 

JJ can’t afford to be scared anymore; living a life half-way ready to run is not living. 

He checks his phone; it must’ve chimed at some point because there’s texts from Kie, telling him where she is with Pope. His heart skips another beat, and at this point he thinks he could have enough heartbeats for a whole new person just from the ones he missed. 

He’s not dying today. He’s not dying before he gets to live the future he’s almost ripped out of his own hands. 

When he looks up at John B, he feels the hint of a weary smile on his lips. ‘I think I’ve got a promise to make.’

—

It shouldn’t be a surprise JJ finds them at the Boneyard, yet it’s still quite odd to see the scenario he’s seen a million times – Kie sitting next to the sea with her feet dipped into water as her fingers splash at the waves just about reaching her, and Pope… Pope sitting on the half-dunked log that’s been here forever, with his feet bare but not quite touching the water. His head is hung low and JJ can see the strain in his shoulders even from halfway across the beach; the cap is sitting on his lap, unused, despite the sun high above their heads. 

The sight tugs at his heart and he falters in his step, but John B’s firm hand on his back encourages him forward. JJ gives a slight nod; he’s not giving up on the courage. 

It’s Pope who notices them first and he stiffens even more; JJ sees Kie pat his knee before turning around and waving at them, then saying something to Pope. JJ wishes the wind would carry her words to him – is it encouragement or telling Pope he’s better off without someone who panics and refuses the one thing they’ve always longed for?

‘Don’t.’ John B pats him on the back. ‘I see you doing your dumb thought thing.’

JJ opens his mouth to say something, but whatever it was that he meant to say, it’s gone forever. All he can do is try and keep his shoulders from slumping and hands from forming fists; he can’t allow himself to be angry at the world, or himself. 

The sand creaks underneath his feet. He hates it in this moment, because it makes him aware of every step he’s got to take to get to Pope, and the steps drag into eternity. 

Pope locks their eyes. JJ tries figuring him out, but he’s too far, and Pope’s too guarded. 

(Not against me, Pope. Please. Not against me.)

When they get there, JJ feels like fainting, but he sets his foot firmly on the ground. He’s not escaping. 

‘Hey,’ greets Kie, and John B returns the greeting. The feuded lovers stay silent, just taking each other in. 

(JJ always wished he could paint. The lines of Pope’s face are shaped as if they were meant to withstand centuries instead of being washed away with age. He wishes he could offer to Pope more than just… himself.

He’s talked about this with Pope before, though. Feeling inferior to his boyfriend was always going to be JJ’s Achilles’ heel, yet he didn’t think it would come to this. He made another promise, ages ago – to try to see himself the way Pope sees him. The way other people see him. 

To believe in himself the way he believes in other people, for once.)

The silence is heavy, but JJ forces himself to not see it that way. Instead, he looks over to Kie, to John B, and says: ‘Can you guys give us a second?’

There’s nods and then they’re off, with nothing between the couple aside from waves crashing into the shore. Pope’s head is hung and shoulders slumped, and he’s sitting on this log with one foot pulled up and resting on it, the other hanging in the water now. JJ’s fingers ache to reach across for his, but he tells himself it’s not the time. 

‘I’m sorry,’ he says. ‘Marriage scares me. I don’t know one that worked out, aside from John B and Sarah. I was raised to be on my own. Marriage means not being alone and that scared me, until I realised that… I haven’t been alone for a while now. The pogues, you… Nobody’s going anywhere. And if marriage is just a way to promise to you that I’m not going anywhere, either, and if it means so much to you, then I say let’s do it. I got scared, but never for a second did a life without you cross my mind. It’s — That’s my nightmare, Pope. Your future and mine are the same. Where you go, I follow. That’s the way things are.’

For a long time, it was JJ trying to come to terms with loving Pope – then it was Pope coming to terms with loving JJ. They’ve always loved each other, in a way, without quite saying it. It has never been the kind of love that is shouted from the rooftops – it’s the helping hand, the whispers of i got this, or you’re not alone in this, or i wish you could see yourself the way i see you. It’s the kind of love that’s etched into the air around them, existing as a part of themselves rather than something external. They’ve grown into it, shaped their lives around it.

It’s always been the beach for them. Their first kiss when they were seventeen, their first fight, their first promise to stick together through thick and thin. Every time something happened, something that mattered, etched itself into the back of JJ’s mind like the sound of his mother’s voice, it was always accompanied by the sound of waves on the shore; by the wind howling over the bay. It was always people chatting in the distance, or some music playing from a half-working speaker. It was always them, in the midst of other people’s lives. 

Pope proposed in their flat. 

When JJ drops to his knees, he doesn’t do his dumb thought thing. He doesn’t even think about it – for once, his gut isn’t telling him to run, but stay. ‘Pope Heyward.’

‘JJ—’

‘Can you let me do this?’ asks JJ. He laughs a little, shakes his head, and tries not to think about how ridiculous this looks. ‘I know I already had a monologue, but I don’t think I got my point across.’

Pope shakes his head, too; he isn’t smiling, but his eyes aren’t as strained anymore. ‘It’s okay, you don’t have to—’

‘I want to. I want this, okay? I want you to hear it.’

He can see Pope’s Adam’s apple bob, and he can see his shoulders slump in a relaxed way. The lines around his eyes soften and his lips nearly turn upwards, just a little bit. A little twitch is enough to shoot electricity to JJ’s heart. 

‘Pope, I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life saying it to you. You’re my best friend, my boyfriend, and my fiancee, if you’ll have me after the shit I pulled today. Husband, then. Father of your children, because I know it’s what you’ve always wanted, and I want it, too. Whatever you’ll be, I’ll be by your side. It’s all I want. No matter what our status is, we’re always Pope and JJ. We’re always just us. And I really haven’t thought out what I’d say next because—’

Pope’s lips crash into JJ’s, his hands grasping at JJ’s face, and world pulls itself together again. When they part their foreheads lean against one another, and he can feel Pope’s breath on his lips, and he feels his hands burning on the small of Pope’s back, and he can breathe and breathe and breathe like his lungs have never worked properly before. 

(He understands John B now. Not like he’d ever admit it to him.)

He lets out a chuckle, and then he’s kissing Pope again – a small, chaste kiss, just to feel the softness of the touch. His fingers grip the back of Pope’s flannel and he’s laughing into the kiss. 

‘You’re an idiot,’ says Pope. ‘I should break up with you.’

‘Can’t. I’m too irresistible.’

‘Shut up. You’re cheesy. That entire speech would put John B to shame.’ 

JJ shakes his head again and then his thumb is tracing the line of Pope’s jaw, eyes transfixed by his lips. He almost lost this. He almost gave up everything out of fear after promising to never doing it again. (He’s making a vow, this time. It holds more weight.) ‘You loved that speech.’

Pope rolls his eyes, in the way that tells JJ he’s right. ‘Kie told me you were freaking out at the Chateau.’

‘I was,’ admits JJ. What’s the point of holding back the truth? ‘I was freaked out of my mind. I thought I’d ruined everything.’

‘You forget how well I know you, JJ. I was hurt, but I knew you would come back. Old you would run, but Kie came and said you’re at the Chateau, and you wouldn’t have gone there if you meant to run.’

‘I couldn’t ever run from you.’

‘You better.’

JJ rolls his eyes at the teasing tone in Pope’s voice, then pulls him in for a hug. It’s not long until Pope buries his face in JJ’s shoulder, and JJ kisses the side of his head. ‘I do want to marry you, if you’ll have me.’

There’s a pause and JJ feels Pope chuckle against his neck, shivering a little. ‘What is it that you said? My future and yours are the same? That better be in your vows, John B.’

‘Shut up.’ JJ feels himself burning, neck up this time, and tries to laugh it off. ‘I get to be cheesy once.’

‘Just save it for the wedding. I’d like to hear it again.’

JJ angles his body so there’s some space between them; he doesn’t hesitate before planting another kiss on Pope’s lips, reveling in the ease of movement. This is what coming home feels like, and if this is what future has in store for him, who is he to complain?

#outer banks #obx #mayward #jjpope #mayward fic #jjpope fic #jj maybank #pope heyward #my fic #god a part of me adores this and another part hates it #if i don't post it in the first draft version i'll never post it #obx fic

[vinnival]

Y'know what, I really liked how you wrote that last one so I'm gonna request a bit of a short story based around it considering you do those. I would like one that takes place during Madness 10, where the reader, hank, and sanford fight the Auditor, and instead of Hank using Auditor's newly found halo to power himself up, the reader decided to give him the new arm with lightning, also gives Sanford some powers because why not (you choose what power to give him)

IF KRINKELS ISNT GOING TO GIVE SANFORD BAE A COOL POWER OF HIS OWN

THEN IM DOING IT MYSELF

edit: I dropped something heavy on my toe and I have now seen god is this my punishment? what have I done wrong?

Desperation

"Yo, those main ANTI-AAHW fuckers are here, we should get going to help," one of the Soldat soldiers said to his teammate, flicking his cig away.

The other hesitantly looked around. "Man, we just killed one of the top ones, another just got MAGged, and another has Jebus' abilities... We should stay away..."

The first one rolled his eyes, "Ayder, why are you hesitating?! You're literally part of the top agents. You volunteered to risk your life. Might as well pull through. Stop being a wuss."

Ayder was about to answer when yelling was heard outside, and the two immediately aimed for the nearby door.

The other Soldat approached the door, only for it to be slammed open by a very angry looking Auditor.

"Boss!"

He growled, pushing past them and speed-walking deeper into the building. There were multiple bright red holes, visible around his void-like body.

"Those fucking beetles are right out there, DO something about it!"

The two turned to each other when their boss disappeared around the corner. "Did you see the halo..." Sol was cut off by the door once again slamming open, and he screamed.

There... Stood the newly revived MAG Hank, the one with no shirt, and the one with the halo-band.

Ayder rushed in front of Sol, trying his best to protect his (now scared) comrade.

"Ironic, huh?" Ayder snickered out before he was soon decapitated by an impatient and angry Hank.

Sol followed right after.

You, on the other hand, panted in pain- burning with the intensity of 1,000 suns, it seemed.

Your halo-band reacted to Auditor's newly acquired halo, and electric bolts shot out from it. It ripped through your body, but it looked like the void of a man was in more pain than you. Which was big, considering NO ONE'S attacks were landing on him.

You thought it over once the Auditor ran off after making his towers, and decided to try and transfer that power to Hank, as he seemed to be the one that was willing to get the most physical with him. You had a feeling it would be painful to harness that energy again, since it felt like you were being tasered by WAY too many tasers at once when you first felt it.

Eventually, you had no other choice but to give it to him...

Your group was interrupted in their travels by a new MAG, ready to attack. Sanford desperately kept flinging his hook at the thing, and Hank was trying to punch his way out of the thing's hold, but this MAG was bigger and stronger than all of them physically.

You steeled yourself, and ran at Hank, who was stuck in the MAG's hand still.

"HANK, OVER HERE," you yelled out, reaching out your hand. He automatically reached his giant new arm out, and you transferred all of your electric energy to him for him to wield.

It hurt like a BITCH.

You were lucky Sanford immediately followed you to make sure you didn't do anything stupid.

(He doesn't want to lose another friend...)

He dragged you back so you can recover healthily while Hank harnessed his newfound power to rip a hole into the MAG, killing it off with one final punch to the head.

He trudged over to you once the dust settled, and let out a low grunt at your curled-up form, sat in Sanford's arms.

Heaving for air, you showed them both a shaky thumbs-up. The band on your wrist was still as sparkly and gold as ever.

They both helped you stand up, and you coughed out a thanks.

It wasn't long before you began thinking about Sanford. You were resting your burning nerves while the other two managed to easily take out the many grunts in the way, so you had time to think as you limped along.

Sanford... He's worked so hard, he's suffered so much, and what has he to show for it? You have your halo, Hank has his new form, what about him?

Once you three got to a new resting stop in the tower, you reached your hand out and gingerly touched Sanford's back.

He flinched a little, but only looked at you, an eyebrow raised.

You smiled gently, "You've worked hard, let me reward you, Sanford."

Instead of the painful electricity, you focused on the soothing flow of water, running through your body and flowing into Sanford's own. A blinding light overtook him. He was calling your name in confusion.

When you and Hank saw him again, he was sat on the ground, clutching his hook closely.

Wait.

You looked closer.

The hook was ATTATCHED to him?!

In fact, his skin looked very spiky, and his hands were glowing a dark grey- huh... one of them were just his hook a moment ago, right?

You watched as Sanford studied it in awe. Wait, whoa!

His hands changed shapes! His hook, a gun, his hand, a CROWBAR, all of that formed right in front of everyone's eyes!

The moment didn't last long, though. Rumbling ripped through the tower that the man of the void created. Sanford quickly thanked you, before you all rushed out to finally fight The Auditor.

Finally, you felt like you were prepared.

It is 3 am. If this seemed very all over the place plot-wise I blame my tiredness

#once again this was all over the place #constructive critism welcome #pls #madness combat #madness combat x reader #madness combat hank #madness combat sanford #sanford gets a cool funky new power!!!! #I based it off of my own oc's soecial power bc im unoriginal LMAOAOA

[writinginthesecrettrees]

Currently thinking about Sammy and how sometimes he feels so trapped he could scream, sometimes he thinks about his life and his future and he can’t even breathe because it’s just one long painful march to an early grave and there’s a good chance Dean will go first, trying to protect his useless ass. Already got Dean hurt on that hunt, when he froze at the sight of the monster and Dean had to jump and push him to safety. After, when Dean was woozy from painkillers and all stitched and bandaged, Dad made sure Sam knew how useless he was as if Sam hadn’t been telling himself the same thing for hours, for years, and one thought crystallizes as he stands listening to the lecture: I have to get out.

Running away is easy, dropped at school while Dad’s off on another hunt and Sam’s a good enough pickpocket to lift a few wallets as he walks through the halls, weird new kid that no one notices, to slip out the back door and that gives him cash and time to put miles and miles between him and his family. Staying away is hard, separation from Dean aching like a wound that won’t heal and he hadn’t expected that. The dog helps, gives him something solid and loving to cuddle, but it can’t fill the void and that’s the first time Sam thinks that maybe nothing can.

He doesn’t fool himself into believing he can stay hidden, knows that Dad (but especially Dean) will track him down eventually, so he uses his time to make a plan: how to get through high school, how to get the grades he’s gonna need, how to take the SATs when he doesn’t know where he’s gonna be living from month to month. How to apply for college. And he dreams of taking Dean with him when he goes, dreams of Dean choosing him over their dad, dreams of Dad maybe being proud and he tries not to get his hopes up.

Dad drags him back, demands answers that Sam won’t give, yells and threatens and Sam doesn’t care, but Dean won’t even look at him. Doesn’t yell, doesn’t hit him, walks away when Sam tries to talk to him for weeks and weeks until even Dad is looking at him with something like sympathy.

“What’d you expect? He thought you were kidnapped, maybe dead. ‘Sammy wouldn’t run away,’ he said. ‘Not from me.’ Didn’t believe you would hurt him like that,” Dad says, and then, “Don’t do it again,” before taking off on another hunt, leaving Sam alone with the most important person in his world not speaking to him.

In the dark, listening to Dean lying there breathing and still silent, it’s unbearable. Sam knows Dean hears when he throws off the blankets and gets out of his bed, can hear the sheets rustling as Dean tenses, only has a second to surprise him so Sam makes the most of it, launches himself to the other bed and lands on top of Dean, clings tight through Dean’s initial struggle to dislodge him.

“I’m sorry, Dean. I didn’t mean to...” and now that he’s got Dean trapped he doesn’t have words to explain it, can only repeat “I’m sorry” as he starts to cry.

Dean shoves at him again, and Sam lets go, lets himself be pushed away, slides off the bed and buries his face in his knees and sobs.

“Are you gonna do it again?” 

Dean’s voice is so soft Sam barely hears it, beautiful after weeks of nothing and Sam can’t answer, can’t lie and say no but if he tells the truth, says he’s gonna leave after he’s eighteen and please dean won’t you come with me then that gives them five years to stop him and as much as he needs Dean, Sam thinks he might need freedom just a tiny bit more. “I’m sorry” is the only thing he can say.

Dean sighs heavily, leans over the side of the bed and tugs at Sam’s arm until Sam uncurls himself to climb in with Dean. Sam stays huddled at the very edge of the bed until Dean pulls him closer, huffing with annoyance. “You do that again, I’mma beat your ass. Bitch.”

And they’re not okay, not yet, but he’s forgiven so Sam cuddles close, flings an arm over Dean’s stomach and just as he drifts to sleep, “jerk.”

#weechesters #sam winchester #dean winchester #that time sam ran away to flagstaff #and left dean behind #the first betrayal

[faefictionblog]

I Burn For You

(Angelic bf x Demonic gf)

---

He was brave, he was brave, he was brave-

Keith couldn't help how his legs shook underneath him, threatening to collapse any moment as Senpai stares him down- Lucy had long since gotten down off the stereo- the battle was over but he was...furious. It wasn't fair to Senpai. It wasn't fair that what he wanted was ripped away all because one bluehair snotnosed kid wanted, the prize he had worked so hard to achieve.

Her love, her affection, she was supposed to be his.

In his rage he stormed forward, glitching and freaking out as he rapidly approached Keith in the blink of eye, now holding him up by his shirt collar and neck.

Keith wheezed and struggled to breath through his panic and flailing, the small constricting opening making it near impossible- and this wasn't even Senpai trying to crush him by his neck. The tall man seethed up at the smaller in his hands, ignoring how Keith's little legs kicked out at him, how his hands scratched and scrabbled for purchase in Sennpai's hold. The purple and warped world around them distorted and crumbled- leaving them on a floating Pixalated island- with Senpai holding the boy over the void-like- edge.

"ITS NOT FAIR-! SHE'S MINE! I'm perfect in everyway! Every code! Every pixel was built to perfection and your RUINING IT! YOU! A pathetic ugly worm! So I'm going to send you where you belong, down below into the trash- huh..."

His anger blinked for a moment as he felt droplets fall on his exposed hands. Looking away from the void back to bf he notices the boy is crying. He almost scoffs or turns away in disgust from the other crying but he didn't have time...before the burn hit.

Senpai's hand sizzled and popped where the tears landed, and the pain, the pain shot through his body like a spark of fire. He screeched out in pain, flinging Keith's body behind him and sending it crashing into the stereo stand. Lucy, who had been yelling for Sen to stop without any luck gasped horrendously and ran over to her boyfriend while Sen stood there groaning over his hand.

"What the HELL was that?!"

He takes a threatening step forward, expecting the the little rapper to look up from where he was curled up and sobbing against the stereos. Lucy gave Sen a hard glare but said nothing, only increasing his anger from being burned by what only looked like tears.

"UGLY WORM! TELL ME!"

He screamed louder, and Keith flinched, finally looking up at him...only this time...his pupils were missing. Replaced with nothing but bright wide and tear filled white lights. Sen stopped in his tracks, freezing. They stared at eachother for a bit, waiting for somthing to happen, while Lucy tried to get Keith to breath and calm down.

"....you're an angel."

Sen murmurs, face flat as things clicked into place.

"You're and angel! YOU'RE AN ANGEL, HAHAH!"

He practically keeled over, laughing like a lunatic as Keith sobbed a little harder, flinched at the noise and turned more towards Lucy as she scanned him for injuries.

"You're not even human-! Your not even somthing that can date her normally-"

He claims it like its a big deal, like he's won the battle already- no. Like he's won the war. The second part sounds like he was directing towards Lucy more than Keith.

"Your nothing. You join their family and you will hurt everyone you have ever loved or cared about for the rest of your life. Your not ment to be together. So when she grows to worried....she can always crawl back to me and beg..."

He chuckles mainly to himself, finding the battle no longer worth his time- afterall he had won. Keith could only openly cry more as the man taunted him-

but Lucy.

Lucy stared and stared...and then reached forward, cupping his cheeks with her hands. The sizzle of the holy water tears on demonic skin burn into the quiet air between them. Keith jumped in surprise as Lucy tried to wipe them away, to comfort him, and tried to pull away with frantic beeps of concern, only for her to pull him closer, pulling him into her chest and holding tightly.

"Listen Keith, c'mon, lok at me"

He stops struggling against her slowly, now only worriedly glancing up at her.

"I dont mind. Honest."

She gives him the softest and nicest smile she could, even as the steam framed her face, even as the pain switched to overloaded tingles, she just wanted to comfort him.

"...I'd do this all day cause...I burn for you."

Keith sniffles and finally, wraps his arm around his girlfriend, reciprocating the hug and comfort as best as possible despite his tears...

They burn for eachother...

So its okay to hold on a little longer.

#friday night funkin #fnf #fnf boyfriend #fnf girlfriend #fnf senpai

[blancheludis]

@whumptober2021 Day 3: Taunting, Insults

Fandom: Dragon Age Inquisition Characters: Dorian Pavus, The Iron Bull Tags: Assault, Mage-Templar Conflict, Self-Worth Issues, Hurt Dorian, Holy Smite, Protective Iron Bull Words: 3.484

Summary: Dorian can count on one hand the times he was hit by a Smite and it was always during training, leaving him shaky and sick the rest of the day. This feels so much worse, done out of malice, meant to cripple instead of teach.

“You were saying, mage?”

- A few Templars attack Dorian in Skyhold. Bull comes to the rescue.

---

It has gotten late. Dinner is already over and while there is faint music to be heard from the Herald’s Rest, the rest of Skyhold is eerily deserted. Dorian curses himself silently as he hurries through the dark corridors. He lost track of time in the library, which should not come as a surprise, really, but he knows better than to walk alone after dark.

He is not afraid. Dangers lurk around every corner, but he trusts in his ability to defend himself. The thing is, that he is not certain whether he should defend himself. The Tevinter Mage far from home, shrouded in mystery. People do not trust him here, but the reasons are so laughably threadbare. He is neither a blood mage nor does he want to overthrow any kingdoms.

“Mage,” a voice calls out, harsh but slightly too loud for the late hour.

Dorian hastens his step. He knows the distaste in the tone intimately, even if it is only since he left Tevinter that he learned it paired just as well with mage as it does with slave or son.

He keeps his head up, makes it look like he is not running away. Running never helps. While most of the soldiers here are cowards, some do like to hunt, and Dorian knows better than to give them a reason to.

“I’m talking to you.”

And Dorian is trying his best not to hear him. One of these days, he is going to accidentally incinerate a hapless Templar trying to waylay him. The uproar that will cause. Perhaps that will still better than this cat-and-mouse game that he always, always loses.

A hand grabs Dorian all of a sudden, appearing out of nowhere in the dark. Dorian, who was concentrating on the yelling man in his back has not been paying attention to what is ahead of him.

Another Templar. Even out of uniform they are unmistakeable. That fanatic fire in their eyes that burns brightest when Dorian is near. They like to leave their hands hovering over their hips, even when they are not wearing their swords, constantly following that urge to be ready, to cut down a mage, no questions asked.

“Is there something wrong with your ears, mage?” the Templar in front of him asks, his grip tight enough to leave bruises. Alcohol clouds his breath, almost as potent as hate.

“Nothing at all,” Dorian answers brightly, trying to tone down the sharpness of his voice. “Nobody was calling my name, though.”

He bites his tongue. So much for holding back. It is high time to get out of here before the stragglers reach them. But no matter how much he twists his arm, the Templar’s hold remains strong. He could put the man on his back, but mages are not allowed to defend themselves and he does not want all of Skyhold’s guards to be called down on him because these guys are screaming murder.

“You bloody ‘Vints, always thinking you’re better than us good folks.”

Dorian barely manages to keep his face from scrunching up, but some of his contempt must have slipped through anyway because the man’s scowl deepens. Definitely time to get out.

“Well, I better relieve you of my presence then. Wouldn’t want to ruin your night,” Dorian says and calls fire to his hands, not enough to burn but to warm his fingers in warning. To his dismay, the Templar’s grip only tightens and he pulls Dorian closer.

“The Inquisitor should have never let you in,” he snarls, his foul breath warm on Dorian’s cheek. “We’re trying to save the world, not break it.”

Unable to help himself, Dorian laughs. “Did you read that in one of Master Tethras’ novels? Mighty impressive, I didn’t think they wasted the energy on teaching war dogs to read.”

Dorian should shut up. The drunk guy behind him is coming closer, leaning on a friend’s shoulder. Three on one are not odds Dorian would think twice about in the field. Things are different here. Even drunk and clearly hoping for a fight, people will listen more closely to these three than Dorian.

He is just a mage, barely a friend of the Inquisitor, neither trusted nor even a real asset because who would want a necromancer in their back when they could have him dead and buried, safely sealed away. It grates at Dorian’s pride, but he has practice in being not wanted and sneered at. He does not think it will ever stop hurting but that does not mean he will let them see.

Dorian twists his hand, determined to scare them off even if he does not dare to actually attack them. But before he can do much of anything, the Templar takes an abrupt step forward and shoves Dorian against the wall behind him. The force rattles his ribcage, upsetting a bruise he got while training with Bull. He does not let the pain show but raises a hand and lets a flame dance on his palm, bigger now and definitely a threat. Hopefully, the reminder that he could fling a fireball at their heads will be enough to get them to back off.

What Dorian does not expect is the wave of sudden coldness slamming into him, making him double over. The energy crackling under his skin, ready to be called forth, vanishes, drained by the Smite, leaving only nausea in its wake.

It is a terrible feeling, beyond words. Wielding magic is like breathing, but the Smite is more than a chokehold. It feels as if boiling silver is poured down his throat, charring his insides and leaving nothing but a barren wasteland and the painful memory of greatness.

He can count on one hand the times he was hit by a Smite and it was always during training, leaving him shaky and sick the rest of the day. This feels so much worse, done out of malice, meant to cripple instead of teach.

“You were saying, mage?”

The drunk guy sounds much more sober now if no less disdainful.

Panic unfurls in the pit of Dorian’s stomach as he realizes he is cornered. He cannot run, he can not access his magic. He is helpless in the middle of the Inquisition’s stronghold.

Perhaps they will be happy with simply roughing him up a little, with teaching him his place. The drunk guy is leering at him, but Dorian has gone to his knees under equally terrible circumstances before. If they want to kill him, though, there is little he can do. This is not how his story will end. It cannot be. And yet, Dorian has his hands full with staying upright.

He barely feels the first punch. It rattles his body but the pain is a mere echo, lost in the void that has suddenly opened in Dorian’s very core.

The men are still talking, all three of them now towering over Dorian, but he just hears the hate in their voices, no actual words.

A punch the face snaps him out of his stupor, the acute sharpness of it enough to penetrate the fog that has settled over his senses. With consciousness, though, comes more fear.

“You mage scum are good for one thing, though,” one of the Templars says. Dorian is far beyond being able to recognize faces, but his wide grin reveals a missing tooth. “And once we’re done, we’ll bury you outside in the snow, do a favour for all of us.”

Dorian hates the cold and he really, really does not want to die in it. He does not want to die at all, but the how has suddenly become a far greater concern then the when. He opens his mouth, not sure whether to say something or to just scream, but he does not get to do either because another hit to the head makes his vision swim and his thoughts scatter.

“What is going on here?” a new voice interrupts, making the three Templars jump.

The sudden lack of contact between them has Dorian slumping against the wall, his legs shaking too badly to keep him upright. His mind, however, whirs into a panicked chorus of denial. Three men are more than enough, he cannot have even more join the apparent free-for-all he has become this night.

Then, though, he sees the men back away, and when he looks at the newcomer, he finds too broad shoulders and horns and - Dorian has never been so glad to see Bull. It does not matter that he is a mage or a ‘Vint, Bull will not leave him to his fate.

“We were just having a friendly discussion,” one of the Templars says.

Dorian’s brain is slowly sorting itself out again as no new pain comes forth, and he scoffs. It tugs at a fresh bruise on his face.

“The Inquisitor is making a mistake trusting these abominations.”

Dorian is pretty sure that is the one who used the Smite. He shivers, pushes himself further against the wall. The Templars are no match against Bull, but they are still standing like a wall in front of Dorian.

“I suggest that you run,” Bull says, his voice vibrating with something dark. “And if you’re smart, you’ll leave Skyhold tonight and never look back.”

“We don’t take orders from beasts,” the gap-toothed one spats, no ounce of self-preservation.

Dorian has seen Bull on the battlefield, bloodied and hungry for a fight, an unstoppable force. Right in front of their eyes, Bull transforms into something worse than that. His back straightens, making him grow even taller, and his eyes gleam with that same battle madness, focused unflinchingly on these three, puny men.

“Run,” he bellows and takes a swing. Even armour would not have saved Gap-Tooth for Bull does not hold back. His fist slams into the Templar’s jaw with a sickening crunch, throwing him through the air as if he weighs nothing.

That is enough of a demonstration that they do not question Bull again but run, stumbling over their own feet in their hurry to get away. Dorian would laugh at their turned backs, relishing in how the situation was flipped on them, but he is still too busy with just breathing.

He closes his eyes and catalogues the pain. The throbbing, familiar ache of bruises is easier to deal with than the terrifying void inside of him. He reaches for his magic and nothing answers. His skin is just skin and not a conduit. His body is just blood and bones and nerves, full of pain and longing now, nothing greater.

“Are you all right, big guy?” Bull asks, sounding way too close.

When Dorian opens his eyes, Bull is crouching next to him, the madness replaced by blatant concern.

He will live. Nothing feels broken and there are potions against the pain. This is not his first rodeo.

“Of course,” Dorian lies. He is not sure he can stand up, much less make the way back to his quarters. He does not particularly want to be alone either – he has never been this weak before. Or, well, he was once, when his father – better not go there. This evening is ruined enough.

“You were assaulted –” Bull says but trails off when Dorian pushes to his feet.

Shaking legs or not, he is done cowering and he does not need Bull’s pity. Bad enough he had to be saved.

“Merely a misunderstanding,” Dorian says and puts in the effort to regain control over his expression. “Although I appreciate you stepping in.”

He has some experience with putting himself back together. And being alone in his room does not sound so bad if he thinks about it. There, at least, will be nobody to act tough for.

Bull nods but Dorian knows him well enough by now that this battle is not won. Coming another step closer, he his hand on the crook of Dorian’s elbow, never bothering to ask whether Dorian even wants help.

“How often does this happen?” Bull asks, his tone just conversational enough to almost hide the simmering anger beneath.

Deep down, Dorian is flattered that Bull would be upset on his behalf, but if he lets this happen it will only lead to more complications down the road. So, while he does not push off Bull’s hand, he takes care not to lean on him and begins walking towards his room. It is slow going, at first, because his body feels wrong, missing something vital, but he is walking.

“Do you think there’s someone waiting around every corner trying to trip me up?” Dorian says, falling back on his old friend sarcasm. That at least is familiar. “They were drunk.”

Drunk and ready to kill him. That is definitely a step up from mere insults and the occasional try to trip him in the hallways.

“And yet you don’t seem surprised.” Bull looks at him from the side, with an intensity in his eyes that reminds Dorian that bull is not just a formidable fighter but also a spy. “This actually explains quite a bit. You love your wine, but you never get drunk. You always leave the tavern early and never alone. You -”

Dorian pulls his arm away from Bull, very aware that people keep touching him. The momentum of that almost throws him off balance, but apart from the sheer wrongness of being without magic and the exhaustion weighing him down, Dorian almost feels like himself again. Half of himself, covered in bruises, but not a victim anymore.

“Are you done analysing me?” he snaps, knowing that his glare falls flat. “Nothing happened.”

Bull does not visibly react to Dorian refusing his help but looks decidedly unimpressed. “You’re shaking.” He does not move further away but somehow manages not to crowd Dorian either.

“Well, let someone cut one of your limbs off and see how you like it.” It feels like that, only that the loss is not located in just one limb but all of him at once. Magic is always there, waiting just for his call. His entire skin prickles with it, his lungs draw it in alongside the air to breathe. Without it, he barely feels human.

“A limb?” Bull asks, confusion interrupting his casual interrogation. Did they – oh. They took your magic?”

Bull’s realization does not sit right with Dorian. There is no malice on his face, no relief. One of his Chargers is a mage and Bull never gave the impression he minded Dorian using magic, on or off a battlefield. But Dorian is only too aware of how Qunari view mages. It is probably unfair, but he still cannot quite think clearly. And part of him will always be wary of Bull’s loyalty to the Qun.

“One used the Smite,” he says, trying for nonchalance, although it is hard to fool Bull even when he is not exhausted and in pain. “I’ll be right as rain in a minute.” Or a few hours, if he can only lock his door and lie down.

“Dorian.” Bull pulls him to a stop, just the briefest of touches before he lets his hand fall again. “This is not okay. You need to talk to Cullen about this.” It is a miracle, how he can sound so serious while saying something this ridiculous.

Dorian is already walking such a fine line with the Inquisition. It does not matter that he very much wants to rid the world of Corypheus and that he would keep hunting Venatori on his own, that he wants to reform his homeland until it is something to be proud of again. The Inquisitor likes him and trusts him not to betray them. The rest of the Skyhold’s inhabitants? Not so much.

Cullen is always civil to Dorian, the same way he is to foreign diplomats and nobles. Their conversations have gotten a bit warmer since they started playing chess together. That does not mean that Cullen would go against his own people for the sake of a mage telling tales.

“I most definitely do not,” Dorian says with a glare. “I can handle myself.” He has done so a thousand times before and likely will a thousand more.

“That’s what it looked like.”

It is not like Bull to mock him. About his clothes or the way he drinks his wine, yes. But about losing a fight? A minute ago, he called it assault but now the blame has shifted to Dorian. It always does. Time to go so he can lick his wounds in private.

“If you’re done insulting me, then –”

Bull reaches out and Dorian flinches instinctively. It gives them both halt, so much more telling about Dorian’s state than his threadbare lies.

“What about the other mages?” Bull then asks, his tone gentle, reasonable. “What if they’re going for someone a little less noticeable next? Who doesn’t play chess with the Commander and has his ear?”

Dorian has thought about that before. The other mages usually do not go out alone, too used to be wary of Templars. And he doubts anybody would dare to touch Vivienne or Solas.

“They hate me because I’m from Tevinter.” It is certainly true. And he is never quiet about his disdain of Ferelden either. The weather, the dogs, the food. He will not be forbidden to speak the truth.

But Bull does not seem to buy it. “Is that all?

Dorian stays silent. He is loud and flashy and unrepentant, so that is what might have drawn their gaze. There is little about him that does not offend people here. But that is not what their main issue is with him, but the fact that he commands a power they do not understand and never will because they cower from it.

Being a mage is not a choice, though. In most parts of Thedas, magic is treated as something to be contained and caged. Control is important, certainly, but magic is in everything and cutting it out means going through life half-blind.

Dorian turns and starts walking again. He is done with this conversation. People will always come after him and making him a fool of himself in front of the Commander of the Inquisition forces will not change that. In fact, he might just get another enemy out of this.

“I can talk to Cullen, if you’d prefer,” Bull offers, keeping up easily with him.  

“I don’t need you to fight my battles,” Dorian bites out. He will have to talk to Fiona and perhaps Vivienne to make sure that the other mages are not harassed too. He can deal with it, has done so for as long as he remembers, even if the insults change wherever he goes. But Bull is right, he will not let other experience the same.

“Never said you weren’t capable,” Bull says, his placating tone falling on deaf ears. “Do you know who they were?”

Dorian has no ideas. If he remembered every face that looked at him with disgust, every person who spewed insults or spat at him, he would not be able to cram anything else into his brain. It was never that important.

He shakes his head. “Cullen trusts the Templars that came with him.” And, despite the progress Cullen has undoubtedly made, he does not trust mages.

Bull nods but argues anyway, “We’re getting more refugees every day. He doesn’t know all of them.”

And they will still be Templars while Dorian is just an enemy mage. But Bull is right. If they are going after a member of the Inquisition’s inner circle, the other mages are not safe.

“I’ll talk to him,” he promises grudgingly. That is not a conversation he is looking forward to. He can already imagine the questions. Are you sure you did nothing to provoke them?

“Good.” Bull smiles as if he never doubted he would win the argument. “Let me walk you back to your quarters.”

Dorian should protest. He is a grown man. But he is tired and shaken to the core, still empty inside where his magic used to reside. He still does not want to be alone, does not want to peer around every corner, waiting for the next attack. The shadows seem to retreat from Bull’s massive form and Dorian is glad for the company.

He does not say thank you, but the corner of Bull’s mouth ticks further up as if he hears it anyway.

“Next time, just find me at the tavern. If I’m not there, the boys will be just as happy to help.”

Dorian nods, even though he does not understand the offer. Bull does not owe him anything. But this is something he has been learning slowly, relying on others. Maybe he can allow himself to get used to it. He can dream, at least.

#whumptober2021 #no.3 #insults #dragon age #fanfiction #dorian pavus #iron bull #mage templar conflict #self worth issues #my writing

[hieludoboi]

Or so You Believed

A/n- sorry I’ve been gone! I’m trying to get requests done but I’ve been going through quite the writers block! I’ll get those requests out as soon as I can, I promise! For now please enjoy some Kuroo Angst

A/n- Ahahahahahahaha I feel like garbage and I can’t write. I put this through grammarly and it said I had bland writing and that made me sad? Anyway, I’ll try and get to finishing requests but I’m going through a bit of an episode rn :( I really do hope you guys enjoy this though, and I’m sorry if this is bad :(

A/n- I went through and fixed a few spelling and grammar mistakes! This story should now be entirely gender neutral! If you fin any mistakes pleaseeeeee let me know! 

Pairing Kuroo/Gender Neutral! Reader

Summary- A summer fling had led to more than either one of them had bargained for. 

Warnings- Mentions and slight portrayal of nsfw things, yelling, breakdowns, Angst, breaking up, crying, just very sad in general :(

At that moment it had all felt right. His lips were gentle against their skin, fitting perfectly on theirs. His scent had stained their sheets, and the taste of his lips constantly lingered on their lips. It had felt right, being tangled in a disarray of sheets and pillows, hands and lips roaming yet never straying too far. At that moment they were gone, wrapped away in a blissful dance of warm comfort and empty words. Kuroo could feel their hands leaving a trail as they drew maps on his skin, he could taste the desperation on their lips, and for moments he wondered if they could taste his desperation as well. 

A little fling was all it was. Constant text messages and calls, flirtatious joking, it was perfect. So where had they gone wrong? One way or another they began to spiral, separate pieces of the same thread unraveling to reveal frayed edges and tips; they were never a whole thread, always separate strings. Some days it was his fault, other days it was their fault. Official, it was all they had wanted. They wanted him to hold them close, play with their hair, and stroke their arms. Intimacy is what they craved, sought out in any form he was able to offer. 

Long nights were spent in bed together, frayed threads tangled in desperate attempts to pass through the eye of the needle as one. They had hoped that his warm touch would fix it all, hoped that the words he mumbled in their ear as their bodies messily embroidered, were truth and not false nets of lies to catch onto as they fell. 

Tonight was different. Hands and lips wandered but never strayed, and not for Kuroo’s sake, but their sake. Kuroo knew, even though they never talked about it, even though their lips were sealed, Kuroo could still see the haze that fogged their eyes. Their last relationship had pulled a plug on their certain spark, left them empty, and Kuroo could see it. As they looked for ways to fill an empty shell, they had stumbled upon Kuroo. Kuroo and his cocky charm, Kuroo and his purring voice, Kuroo and his stable arms. Kuroo provided safety, security, touch, emotion, something that was previously unavailable in their last relationship. So maybe that’s why they thought they loved him. 

Tonight, it was different. There was an unusual intensity behind every kiss and nibble, an unexpected spark in every touch. Their eyes were fogged, clouded, and misty, Kuroo knew that something was different. So he stopped their hands, gently pushed them away, and stared at them with pitiful eyes. It was obvious what they wanted. They wanted Kuroo to have every inch of them, take them, and fill the void that was left behind.

“Why’d you stop?” Y/n stared up at Kuroo, a certain pain in their eyes. Were they not good enough for him?

“Y/n, you’re not in a good state of mind for this.” His voice was calm, gentle, and stable, but they didn’t like the look in his eyes, the look of pity and worry.

“Kuroo, I’m fine. I’m ready, okay? I want my first time to be with you. Kuroo I... I love you.” their voice was soft, shaking, and unstable. They were breaking, and Kuroo knew they were. Yet still, he flinched, stopping to hold one of their hands. 

“No. You don’t love me, okay? You-you think you do, but you don’t. You know what you feel, and you know it’s not for me, I know that you know this isn’t right.” Kuroo explained gently, squeezing their hand just a bit. Y/n aggressively pulled away from Kuroo, holding their hand to their chest and staring at him with frayed e/c eyes. 

“Who are you to tell me what I feel? I love you Kuroo, okay? I l-” Y/n flinched, practically jumping back as Kuroo abruptly stood up, towering over them.

“Stop saying that! You only think you love me because you don’t know what love is! All you’ve ever felt is toxicity, guys who use you and toss you to the side. Guys who want you to be emotionally available at all times but won’t even talk to you! Y/n, you don’t know what it is!” Kuroo’s voice was faltering. It was unstable and his eyes were beginning to fill with tears. 

“You know what I feel when I’m with you? I feel warm, okay? And-and I feel safe! I feel like I’m gonna be okay and that anytime I fall you’ll be there to catch me!” Y/n screamed at Kuroo, tears endlessly flowing down their face. Kuroo stared at them in disbelief. Maybe Kuroo did love them, but he knew that they still hadn't got over their past relationship. Kuroo could see the fog in their eyes anytime they spoke about it, he noticed the way they tensed up anytime they would see him in the halls, he could hear them mumble their name as they slept. 

He stayed quiet for some time, staring down at the sobbing figure before him. They didn’t know love yet. Kuroo looked the other way, his lip caught between his teeth. He did love them, but he wasn’t ready. Kuroo wasn’t ready to commit yet. He would only bring them more heartache, and he cared for them too much to hurt them. 

“I-” Kuroo could feel the air catch in his chest. His eyes were wide and his hands were shaking. He hated it, but for them to know what love really is, they would have to experience true pain. 

“I don’t love you, okay?” Kuroo looked the other as he spoke, glaring at the bunny plushie thrown into the corner of their room. He could hear the air catch in their throat, could hear the pain as it rattled their rib-cage with each shaky breath they took. It made Kuroo ache, made him shake with a burn he had never felt before.

“You don’t mean that...” Their voice was shaking, body trembling with despair as they clumsily stood up, hands desperately reaching for Kuroo’s. As soon as he felt their hand brush against his he snatched it away.

“Kuroo, please, please stop...” Every word they spoke was interlaced with breath hitches and stumbles. Their heart was racing and their world felt light. What were they feeling? Why were they feeling this?

“Kuroo, answer me! Please...” They screamed at first, the hysteria obvious in there voice, but as they spoke, their voice collapsed becoming nothing more than a soft whisper. He had to be lying, they thought to themselves, hands trembling as they clasped them atop their chest. 

“I mean it okay. I don’t love you. I never did.” Y/n stared at him with horror, mouth agape as they watched him walk out of their bedroom. As soon as he closed the door, they crumbled. The last pieces of thread that had kept them together were finally frayed, violently detaching themselves from one another for good.

Tears trailed down his face as he walked home, hands shoved in his pockets while his eyes focused on his shoes. Maybe he did love them. Maybe for a split-second, the threads had all twisted perfectly, maybe for a second, they had passed through the eye. Maybe, but it was better this way. Y/n deserved better, deserved someone who wouldn’t be afraid to truly love them, someone who would be willing to improve for them. That someone was not him. Or so he believed.

#kuroo tetsurō #haiku #haikyuu kuroo #kuroo x reader #haikyuu oneshot #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu angst #kuroo #kuroo angst #nekoma #kuroo oneshots #kuroo imagine #haikyuu imagines #im tired help

[bowieandqueen11]

Sisters Slay / Nancy Wheeler Imagine

Request: Hi :D Can I request a Stranger things oneshot? Being besties with Nancy Wheeler and fighting the evil together (or something like that) thank you❤  

Sorry this took so long love! <3

Warning: some strong language!

Please help me keep writing by commenting!

Hanging it from its hook, you place it right underneath the star at the top.

Your fingers un-entangle themselves from the flashing red, blue and green fairy lights that gleam in your eyes and fill the darkening living room with an uncomfortably dim glow. Taking a step back, you tilt your head, eyes glancing over the bristling branches to admire your hard work.

‘Are you sure this trip wire is going to work?’

‘No, but do we have a choice? That lighter fluid we left on the hallway carpet isn’t going to do the trick by itself.’

‘Is that why you have that, Nanc?’

‘It’s just a precaution Y/n. We’re going to get this monster, and then we’re going to get Will. We will get your brother back, Y/n.’

‘I know Nancy, and I want him back too. But I don’t want you taken in his place.’

It took Nancy even less time than you expected to open up the bear trap and place it on the living room floor. She ran scrambling across the living room, her fingers twitching eagerly as she lightly bit her bottom lip, bumping her hip against the flowery chair in the corner before kneeling down next to the box laying crashed on the floor and picking up another batch of your mother’s christmas lights. She bolts past you, her boots jumping lightly over the nails hammered into the floorboards to start screwing them into the lines of wires that zigzag like chains above your head.

‘We can do this, Y/n. ’

You don't just see the bulb flicker above her ponytail as she turns to look at you, you hear it too. As the two of you are cast into brief spells of darkness it crackles, or perhaps it's more of a buzz, the kind of screeching pain you only would expect to hear in the depths of somewhere cold and evil. Nancy’s eyes widen as she comes over to stand by you, hand grabbing your wrist before she tucks her back next to yours, revelling in the slight comfort that she wasn’t alone in this. If she was going, she was going down fighting with her best friend.

All you could think, as her fingers grabbed yours, was that Will had gone through all this alone.

A string of curses unraveled from your tongue, like lights unfurling, as the two of you strain to listen. For a moment, all that could be heard in the Byer household was golden silence; darkness was suffocating the walls, stopped only by the short pants of frightened breathe the two of you tried to keep in. Grabbing your bat, you almost choke on your breath as the slapped paint on the walls your mother had tossed up began to sparkle in your eye.

R. U. N.

‘It’s here, Nancy, it’s here.’

‘Shh!’

You could hear Nancy gulp as the two of you swung around slowly, the lights above starting to illuminate the furniture you had spent your childhood on in dirty greens and reds, every step you took being matched by a rattling noise that you weren’t sure was your heart... or it. 

Before you can make a noise, Nancy has yelled, pushing you to the side and firing a shot at the large, looming shape that screams out from the entryway. You couldn’t quite make out the darkness, as you climbed back onto your elbows, wincing at the knock you had gotten on your head on the way down. As you peered out, trying to disassociate the sound of the screeches from your Nancy, the black blob in the room was not a colour, it was nothing. A void.

‘Shit!’

Flinging up to your feet and running towards it, courage you had gained from Nancy ablaze, you manage to dodge a swing from it's massive claws, but it struck your side and you tumbled once again head first into the wall. You could hear nothing: all was silenced, the yells, the hisses of the creature, the gunshots, all inaudible. All you could do was feel. Feel the cold ground pressed against your form, the heat from the pain, the thick goo leaking onto your leg that you hoped was from one of your traps the Demagorgon had fell in.

That you were winning. That Nancy was safe. That Will would come home again and your mom would stop being so sad and so angry all the time.

A choked cry forced itself up your throat, as you let the darkness overcome you.

Before you could float away, though, it was as if a fist of orange flame had decided to punch it's way out of the room. Smoke and fire rushed out. Thousands of pieces of glass and steel from the Christmas lights hanging haphazardly above fell like snow, a deadly rainfall, showering down. An otherworldly sound, shrill and deafening erupted as Nancy grabbed onto your arm and grabbed you behind the sofa, using her body to shield you from the flames that licked at the creatures skin as it stumbled backwards into the bear trap, its cries only getting louder.

And then it was gone, and you were left with the wreckage.

Senses sharpened with adrenaline, Nancy held her breath, straining to hear with every ounce of her concentration as her forearm held you against the arm rest of your sofa. Cool air whispered through the cracked window she pointed her gun at, the last few flames dwindling down into embers on the carpet you had always hated, the both of you jumping and nearly knocking each other down as Will’s record player suddenly whirred to life in his room. 

All that was left was the warped shapes that the stars made against the blackness, and the soft tones of the Clash against the Hawkins’ night.

Nancy grabs onto your cheeks, a little blood splattered on her own, but the look of desperation and fear in her eyes as she tilts your head forward and checks you over stops you from commenting.

‘Shit, Y/n, are you alright?’

‘I should be asking you that. Thanks, Nanc. For all of this. For saving me. I couldn’t have done any of this without you.’

‘Hey, you’ll always be there for me, and I’ll always be there for you, right? What else are sisters for.’

She holds up her pinkie, which you gladly take with your own, allowing a tired smile to perk up your lips.

‘Sisters.’

‘You sure do beat Mike.’

#stranger things #stranger things 3 #stranger things imagine #nancy wheeler #nancy wheeler imagine #nancy wheeler x reader #nancy wheeler fluff #jonathan byers #jonathan byers imagine #joyce byers #will byers #mike wheeler #nancy byers x platonic reader #jim hopper #stranger things 2 #will byers imagine #noah schnapp #will byers angst #byers!reader #mike wheeler imagine #finn wolfhard #st #stranger things angst #demagorgon #eleven #el

[calpalirwin]

Miscommunication

Summary: Anon request- Okay okay okay but one of the boys is trying to ask u to move in and u grossly misunderstood what they were saying and u lead to an argument so some angst

A/N: I’m using Mike for this because we both agreed that’d be funny.

Content: Angsty fluff

Word Count: 785

And away, and away we go!

__

Michael had been acting weird. It bothered you as you tried to wrack your brain wondering if you had missed something and came up empty. It was normal for Michael to act weird in general. But this was sketchy weird. And you were becoming worried that this weirdness was spelling out the end of your relationship with him.

So, after a week of weirdness, when he finally messaged you the-all-too-cryptic “We need to talk,” you felt the ground crumble beneath your feet. But you made your way over to his place and tried to calm your racing heart and mind, putting on your bravest face.

“Hey!” he smiled, wrapping you in a hug and pressing a kiss to your head after you knocked on his front door. “You didn’t have to knock. Never have before.” His tone was light and teasing as he pulled you both inside and shut the door.

“Just cut to the chase, Clifford,” you said, crossing your arms after he let go of you, effectively cutting him out before he could cut you out.

He let out a nervous chuckle as he passed a hand through his hair. “Yeah, right… the talk…”

“So talk,” you prompted.

“We’ve been together a while now, wouldn’t you say?” he began, chewing on his bottom lip and rubbing at the back of his neck.

“Creeping up on three years, yep.” You kept your voice steady, void of emotion. If he was pulling the plug, you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of watching you break. You didn’t want his sympathy when he was the one twisting the knife.

“Yeah, and it got me thinking… that, uh… I think we need to-”

“I’m gonna stop you right there,” you interrupted, holding up your hand. “If you’re about to say what I think you’re going to say, don’t. I don’t want to hear your excuses. I don’t wanna hear the bullshit lies that it’s you, not me. I don’t wanna hear it. If you wanna throw this away, that’s fine. Actually, that’s not fuckin’ fine! But you’ve been acting weird for an entire fuckin week! And if this is why, then I don’t wanna hear it! Just rip off the bandaid, but let me keep my memories!” Your voice had climbed higher as the words tumbled out before you, crashing off the walls. You weren’t sure if you were more angry, heartbroken, or panicked. Tears you hadn’t been aware of blurred your vision.

“What?” he asked in utter confusion after the echo of your words stopping ringing in his ears. “Babe, I-”

“No!” your voice came out in a harsh and hoarse whisper. “Don’t you dare ‘babe’ me!”

He let out a huff of frustration. “What are you doing right now? Can you just let me ask the damn question, please?”

“No! The answer’s no!”

“No…” How one syllable could hold so much hurt was beyond you. Who was heartbroken at a rejected breakup? Who was stupid enough to ask for a break up in the first place?

“You think I’d say yes?! Are you fuckin insane?! Why would I say yes to you breaking up with me?!”

“Break up with you?! I’m trying to ask you to move in with me!”

“WHAT?!”

“You really thought I was breaking up with you?”

You shrugged, and really wished the ground would open up and swallow you whole. “I just…”

“Jumped to the wrong conclusion? As usual?”

“Maybe…?”

“Was I really being that weird?”

“Little bit, yeah.”

“Fuck, babe… I’m sorry. I’ve, uh… never done this before…”

“You’ve never asked a girlfriend to move in with you?”

He shook his head. “Never really got this far in a relationship if I’m being honest. And then I was with the guys. And they got in my head. And… fuck!”

“The guys put you up to this? The guys?!” You were angry again. “I don’t want you to ask me to move in with you because it’s what the guys told you to do!”

“I’m not asking because the guys told me to ask!”

“Well, why are you asking then?!”

“Because I want you to move in with me!”

“Why would you want that?!”

“Because I love you! Because you’re over here all the time anyway! Because I bought you a dresser because the drawer I cleaned out for you is too small now! Because I made you a key in your favorite color!”

“Well stop yelling at me and ask then.” Your voice fell from dramatic to small.

“Will you move in with me, babe?”

“Yes!” you screamed, flinging your arms around his neck.

“Babe, you are yelling,” he teased lightly.

“Shut up and kiss me, Clifford.”

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#miscommunication #michael clifford #michael clifford fic #5sos #galcal irwin