#...I should have gone to sleep why the hell am I still writing

[amiya-shirou]

Haibane Renmei has to be heavily inspired by Angel's Egg, right? Like. The egg metaphor at the start. The Haibane being literally angels. The lore of the world being metaphorically explained through a religious story. The importance of the dead bird's skeleton. Singularly none of these things would be enough but all together?

Even if that's not the case, it's fun to think of it as an answer of sort to Angel's Egg. The way in the latter the breaking of the egg is met with pure horror, how it shatters the girls' hopes and illusions, how we are shown after just how isolated and stagnating the entirety of the setting is, while Haibane puts a positive spin to it despite the fear and tragedy of it all, breaking the egg by yourself being seen as necessary to become strong, the horror of the first Day of Flight we're shown turning in the final episode into the deep desire to see it as something good and a sign of reaching maturity even if you're leaving behind the comfy illusion that was the life inside the walls, how that life could be considered stagnating but it's also a second chance given to those who left their old world behind. Angel's Egg is characterized by a profound loneliness, both in a literal and in an existential sense; Haibane Renmei is focused on overcoming it, centering the connection between people and how it's the only way for the "sinners" to come to term with their sins and face the world even after they leave their close ones behind, with both of its strongest moments (the dead bird in the well & the finale) being people assuring someone dear to them that they are not alone and had them by their side, even if by doing so they're aware they'll never meet again. Angel's Egg is set in a dead world where it's very hard to see any real hope through the darkness (even if its ending is pretty nebulous and it could be argued the girl also had some sort of ascension/the hope was renewed with her 'death' seeing the many eggs, but even so it's definitely a darker, cruder & lonelier approach, especially since this loneliness and loss of hope is reinforced by how we're shown the abandoned ark in the end); Haibane despite being set in a sort of apparent afterlife still strongly believes in the fact that there's always a possibility, always a way to move towards the future even if what actually happens is left as uncertain as in Angel's Egg.

Angel's Egg ends with the breaking of the egg, but that's how Haibane Renmei begins.

[saminsecret]

Slashers Reacting to their S/O trying to "escape" while sleep walking

Inspired by this post by @amomentsescape . Go check them out! Fell in love with their post and just HAD to write about it myself I am working on a few requests and original ideas, so if you've requested something know that it is (slowly) in the works!)

posting this early to show I'm still active! let me know if you want a part two with other slashers, im already working on one for the sinclair bros but check my character list to see which others i should add! ive added a few new characters to my list aswell :3

CW: Implications of abuse, kidnapping, and other unhealthy relationship dynamics

GN Reader!

Characters include Michael Myers, Thomas Hewitt, Brahms Heelshire, Billy Loomis, and Stu Macher!

You’ve been with your slasher for a while now, trapped living with them in their respective homes. You have no intentions of leaving as Stockholm Syndrome has long kicked in. But right as your slasher lets you sleep without the chains, your brain decides that it’s a perfect time to start sleepwalking…

Michael Myers (Halloween ‘78)

Michael is up the second you are. He never truly sleeps, so the moment your body starts to shift out of bed his eyes are open and watching you intensely. He stopped handcuffing you to the bed post a few nights ago, but he still doesn’t trust you to not leave. Before you can walk towards the bedroom door, he’s already infront of you and grabbing your wrists tightly.

He doesn’t care that you’re asleep. When you didn’t react to him grabbing your wrists, he tilted his head. It takes him a few moments to realize that you’re still asleep. He grabs you by the shoulders and aggressively shakes you awake, startling the hell out of you. “What the fuck!?” You wake up to see Michael glaring down at you menacingly. He is pissed.

You can’t plead with him. Your wrists are back to being cuffed to the bed and he doesn’t let you leave the bedroom. It doesn’t matter that you were asleep, you still tried to leave him. You cry and beg, swearing up and down that you love him but all you get back is an icy glare. Any trust you thought you had with him is gone for the next few months. He loves you Y/N, no matter if you like it or not.

Stares at you through the night. The first couple of nights after your sleepwalking incident, he can’t close his eyes. Ends up just staring at you for the rest of the night, not really sure how to feel about what you’ve done. He won’t say it, but his feelings are really hurt. Why can’t you just do what he wants?

Thomas Hewitt (Texas Chainsaw Remake)

He wakes up alone in bed. He has to get up extra early for his daily chores, so he’s used to see you by his side, still fast asleep. When you aren’t there, he starts to panic. He’s tossing the room frantically hoping to find you, all while fearing the worst. He should’ve listen to his family when they said not to unchain you.

He finds you at the front door, staring at it absentmindedly. He rushes towards you and grabs hold of you, which wakes you up. You scream in confusion which makes him scream. He’s a blubbering mess afterwards while you try to explain what sleepwalking is and how you weren’t consciously trying to leave

He believes you, but he’s still scared that you might leave. He installs a lock on the bedroom door and keeps the key hidden away during the night so you don’t wander off again. He’s worried that you might end up hurting yourself walking around the house, so you can’t coax him out of the lock.

He hugs you extra tight at night. He was always a cuddler, but now he’s nearly smothering you every night in fear that he might wake up alone again. Don’t fight it, it’ll only make him hug you tighter.

Brahms Heelshire (The Boy)

Crashes the fuck out once he realizes you aren’t in bed with him. He’s running around the mansion frantically looking for you in every nook and cranny, getting more and more worked up. Probably starts crying and/or screaming after not being able to find you quickly.

He finds you in the garden, eventually. He hates going outside. He hates you going outside even more. It’s dead of night when you wake up to Brahms incoherently screaming at you while being dragged back inside. You’re so confused while Brahms is just having a full on meltdown, accusing you of trying to leave him.

You have to wait for him to calm down before explaining what happened. He's screaming so loud, sobbing and stomping back and forth the hallway as you sit on the ground, half-dazed. You try to talk to him but he literally can't hear you over his tantrum.

Clings to you. After his break down, you explain what happened-- "I was just sleepwalking, Brahms." He isn't completely convinced but he accepts the explanation on the condition that you never do it again, which you try to say you can't really control it but- oh well. It doesn't matter, as Brahms is always by your side now, holding your hand or waist or the hem of your shirt while you go on with the chores. You never have a moment alone now, and probably never will again for a good while. Do you even want to?

Billy Loomis (Scream)

Another certified crash out. He wakes up one night expecting you beside him, only to find you gone. Immediately tears the house apart looking for you. And when he cant find you? He snaps. Thinks you've left him. Escaped his tight grasp. Destroys everything, grabs his knife, and goes to look for you. If he cant have you then he's going to kill you.

He finds you standing on the porch. Looking back, he doesnt know how you didnt wake up from the noise he was making. He puts the knife to your throat, threatening you until he realizes you were kinda just...not responding. Waves his hand in front of your face and realizes you are asleep and just stares at you. How the fuck did you even get past the locks anyways?

So pissed at you. Its not your fault but it doesnt matter. You should subconsciously want to be near him at all times, sleepwalking or not. He drags you back to the bedroom, gripping your arm so tightly that it wakes you up. You're confused on whats happening, but Billy ignores your questions before tossing you on the bed and forcing you to go back to sleep.

He starts tying you to the bed. He doesn't let you have a say in it, either. He won't say it, but waking up and seeing you gone was one of the very limited moments in his life when he felt fear. And he doesn't intend to ever feel that way again.

Stu Macher (Scream)

Where'd you go, Y/N? He wakes up without you under him, and is immediately confused but not worried. You must have needed to go to the bathroom! Still, he feels a weird flutter in his chest as he gets up to check on you.

He finds you in the hallway just standing there, like a ghost. You startle awake because he screams, not expecting to see you in such a creepy way. He laughs immediately after, finding it hilarious that you managed to scare him!

He has a tight grip on you as he guides you back to bed. You notice as you both lay down that he clings just a bit more to you than usual, so much that you almost feel suffocated. He won't say it aloud, but he doesn't like the idea of you leaving the bed, of leaving him.

He starts laying on top of you during the nights, as a way to hopefully stop you from leaving the room. It works for the most part, and Stu loves the new-found closeness, even if you have to give up a bit of air at night. If you ask, he'll try to shift his weight to one side so he doesn't completely cut off your airflow, but he's reluctant to get off of you completely. What if you hurt yourself walking around?

Freaks out every time you move. Ever since that incident, Stu is hyper focused on you when you sleep. Every time you slightly shift during the night, Stu is locked on you, waiting to see if you try to get up or not. He doesn't want you to leave, y/n, and if that means having to sacrifice some sleep to make sure you stay, that's alright with him.

[writteninlunarlight-years]

How about the "there is only one bed" trope with our lovely Hazbin Boys; Alastor, Husk, Angel Dust, and Lucifer? <3

Scenarios

I made these two parts because I love all the Hazbin boys, and I am a sucker for this trope. I didn't add pentious because I am not confident writing for him. Val is well, Val. Pt1 Pt2

Adam

It was a fucking shit show trying to find an excellent place to stay on this side of heaven. The big man upstairs decides to pay a visit, and Adam just has to see him in person, as if he hadn't seen him twelve million times before. Originally Lute was going to go with him however a situation occurred with the exorcists, you personally think that is a lie but so be it. Being Lute's little sister and third in command over the executioners, you got the job of babysitting Adam.

It wasn't that you disliked Adam for any reason towards you; Lute made it very clear when you joined the battalion that you were off limits; he could flirt, sleep with, and kill anyone he wanted to. Just not her baby sister. So Adam never really got to hang around you much, probably cause he was so afraid of your older sister. However, unbeknownst to you, Adam had a thing for you; though he knew you were not some innocent flower by any means, he knew that touching the forbidden had its perks; I mean, hell, Eve did it.

Sighing, you found one hotel still with a vacant sign; you thought traveling with the first man meant you had ease of access everywhere fucking wrong. Still, you walked in and managed to book the room. The poor elderly angel, though, was so difficult to speak to; you were glad that you went in, not Adam; otherwise, he would have been a dick. Grabbing your bag and motioning him to follow you two heads up to the room. "Yeah, she said it was pretty big, I mean, it should be for two beds." Adam pouted, "Aw babe, you don't want to share a bed with me? Now is your chance to get in my pants while Lute is gone." You scoffed and opened the door to your hotel for the night. "Yeah no not only do I not wan't in your pants I also don't....wan't..........death......Fuck me."

Adam laughed and walked in behind you, "What? You just told me not to fuck you, babe can't be acting all coy with me." He finally looked up and saw why you stalled. He is so dead when they get home; he should have listened to Lute and booked a room in advance. You sighed and walked all the way in. There was a couch. At least you could take it. You were smaller.

Carefully, you started to make the couch into a makeshift bed. "Hey toots, no, none of that. You get the bed bitch. I am not going to be the first dick that made a woman sleep on a fucking couch."

You looked at him, surprised at the offer. You nodded your head and went to clean up for bed. As you slid into the sheets, you saw Adam in his PJs, trying to get comfy. You sighed softly and rolled over, trying to ignore him, yet something pulled at your heartstrings. Lute didn't have to know. You rolled back over and saw the uncomfortable man, "Um, hey, Adam, come get in bed with me." You could have worded that better, but you were tired. You managed to miss the blush on Adam's face as he heard you.

"Yeah, can't get enough of the dickmaster, huh," He dodged a pillow attack from you as he made his way over. Gently, he placed the pillow between you two and climbed in. Lute didn't have to know.

Come morning, no pillow was between you two, your head resting gently in the crook of his neck, his arm wrapped around your waist while his other above his head. You wrapped one arm around him while the other pulled to your chest. You both had slept through the numerous phone calls from Lute and the meeting with God. Adam didn't mind; you deserved the break, and it felt so nice to finally hold you close to him.

Alastor

Charlie sent you and Alastor on a mission to help gain more sinners. Why it had to be on the other side of Pentagram City near Vox's tower was beyond you. You loved Charlie like a sister, though, so you wouldn't fight, and you may have some underlying feelings for a Radio Host that may have swayed your decision to go along with him.

After a hard day of recruiting and passing out flyers, Alastor was some help. Seeing as all of Vox's cronies tried to fight you both on each street corner, it was finally time to call it a night. You were eagerly waiting for Charlie's call, looking at your phone; she was supposed to book your room for you guys out here. After the extermination, Alastor was still recovering, so his shadow teleports weren't the best idea, lest you both be stranded in the shadow realm.

Your phone finally rang to a cheerful Charlie on the other end. She directed you two to the hotel and asked you questions about the recruitment process. As you two talked, the hotel came into view; you sat off in the lobby, talking with Charlie about the hotel as Alastor got your room key. Soon, he stood before you and motioned you to follow. "Do tell Charlie that if she was going to talk to you all night on the phone, she should have been the one to come, not me." You pouted at that. Had Alastor had a bad time with you? That was far from the truth, though. Alastor had a great time showing off his impressive powers to you even though he was still injured, yet he was jealous that Charlie was taking all your time. "S-Sorry, Al. I think Charlie was just concerned. She wanted to make sure we got to the room safely." All you got in return was a slight hum and static. You sighed, and Charlie tried to cheer you up on the phone.

Alastor entered the room first and halted, eyes wide, "Fuck." You had only ever heard him cuss a handful of times, and without static, too, it must have been horrible. Yet, as you hear Charlie's slightly high-pitched laughter, you know she is up to something. Quickly, your phone was snatched from your hand, static buzzing. "CHARLIE WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING THERE IS ONLY ONE BED."

As Alastor yelled at her, you winced. Damn, was it that bad to be stuck with you? You pushed your way into the room and looked around. It was cozy, that was for sure, only one bed. As you finished, Alastor hovered over you, and you started to make a pallet on the floor to sleep on. "And what do you by chance think you are doing my little doe?"

You blushed at the pet name and shrugged. You made your way to the bathroom to change and take a quick shower, not wanting to ruin Alastor's night any more than you had. Once you were done and walking out, however, Alastor was in red PJs, and your pallet was gone. "Hey, where did my bed go, Al? I worked hard on that!"

Static buzzed softer as he sighed, "You are not sleeping on the floor, my dear. Now come get in bed. I made a pillow wall; it is safe."

He sounded sad about it, but you didn't want to trick yourself into thinking there was anything more between you two. You nodded softly and curled on your side, gently drifting to sleep. You could have sworn that as the dreams started coming, the pillow wall behind you disappeared.

Come morning, you were safely held against Alastor, your back against his firm chest, and one arm caged you protectively against him. His other arm lay under the pillow, probing his head up as he slept soundly, inhaling your scent. As for you, the blissfully unaware dreamer, your hands were cradled against you, and you slowly pushed yourself closer into the radiating warmth behind you. Alastor smiled a genuine smile softly; he could definitely get used to this for you.

Angel Dust

Val had sent Angel to a bad part of town for a shoot. You, being the caring, adoring friend you are, decided to go with him just to help make sure no fans or crazies attack him. You had gone to plenty of Angels shoots and even was propositioned by Val many times. Yet you always turned him down and showed your distaste for the moth. He always said that you would come around. How about not. Instead, you were in love with your best friend... cliche, but he was terrific.

Angel put on his robe and walked up to you. You had been spaced out watching the shoot, thinking about the handsome spider before you. As he snapped his fingers in front of your face, you finally reconnected with the world and looked up at him. "What? Sorry, Angel. What is going on?"

He laughs softly and helps you stand, your legs feeling like jelly from sitting on the sound box for hours. Falling into him, he laughed and helped you right again, a soft dusting of pink across his cheeks. "Ya fine toots, shoots ova' let's head out to the hotel."

You nodded, grabbed your bags, and followed him to the limo that would take you to the hotel. Val hadn't known you would come on this trip, but Val always had Vox book double rooms for the whole crew on far-off shoots. The only person who got a single room was Val himself. Sighing you looked out the window as the ritzy hotel came in to view. "20$ when Val sees me, he will ask me to go to his room again."

Angel laughed and shook his head, "Oh no, Val isn't here; this was an exclusive shoot for a customer. So it's just the cast and crew and you."

You blushed. How did you not notice Val wasn't there? You were so stupid. You followed the crew into the building, staying close to Angel as the key cards were passed out. Your room number was in the 9's; it was one of the lovely posh rooms. Okay, Vox, you did something good for a change. You rode the elevator up and talked with the others as they reached their floors. A comfortable silence filled the small space when it was just you and Angel.

At the ding, you two walked to the room, entering though you both found the problem....it was a sweetheart's room. This was Val's standard room. "Damn toots, there's only one bed. I will go ask for another room, don't worry,"

You grabbed his arm, not even thinking, "No, it's okay. It would come out of your pay, too. We have been best friends forever, Angel. We can share the bed." You gulped saliva building in your mouth. He gave you a soft smile and a nod.

"Alright, no funny business," he leaned down close to your ear. "Unless you want there to be." You scoffed and smacked his arm, heading to the bathroom first to clean up. Angel smirked; he was excited to finally have this chance. He got the bed situated to try and make it more comfortable for you.

As you exited, you thanked him for the consideration and let him shower and clean up. You got comfy on the bed and closed your eyes. You slowly drifted off to sleep, exhausted from all the running around. When Angel returned, he smiled softly and climbed into bed next to you. Gently, to not wake you, he placed his head on your chest, listening to your heart.

When morning came, Angel clung to you with both sets of arms, holding on to you, his head nuzzling your chest and neck. You had one arm protectively around him and the other in his hair. The rest of the crew left hours ago, but you two stayed tangled in the sheets, having a sweet, cuddly morning.

[jawsoffate]

Diabolically Yours | part II (vessel!demon x reader)

Summary: Emma just wanted a simple magical boost to win a writing contest, not a snarky and handsome demon bound to her soul. But after summoning the wrong hellspawn, she ends up stuck with Vessel: a sarcastic, shirtless chaos entity who won’t stop flirting or stealing her snacks. Now they’re magically tethered, emotionally entangled, and dangerously close to something much scarier than a pact gone wrong... feelings.

TW: Contains supernatural shenanigans, mutual pining, steamy tension, and one annoyingly hot demon. Read with care (and maybe holy water on the finals part).

💖 masterlist

Part I | Part II | Part III

Part II: Comparative Literature and Other Forms of Torture

Emma hadn’t been able to sleep since she accidentally summoned the wrong demon four days ago. Which is the bare minimum one might expect after summoning an entity by mistake — especially when he decides to sit in your favorite armchair, wear your comfy slippers and your post-shower robe, and grab the remote like he’d rented the place on Airbnb.

"There’s no Netflix in Hell, you know?" Vessel commented, flipping through reality shows and horror movies with the same enthusiasm someone might show for the weather forecast. "We’ve got something similar, but it’s more... eternal. And involves more screaming."

"Are you really staying there?"

"Are you really pretending this is comfortable?" He slapped the armrest. "This is foam with a dead grandma print."

Emma huffed.

"Okay. Rules. First: no sarcasm before 9 AM."

"Ha ha."

"Second: no possessing electronic devices. My laptop already crashes on its own."

"I promise to only possess things in extreme cases. Like commercials with annoying jingles."

He turned to her, smirking.

"You know, if you wanted a pact, you could’ve asked for something more useful. Money, power, I don’t know... flirting skills."

"I do have flirting skills."

"Sure. That’s why you’ve been single for… how long again?"

She crossed her arms.

"That’s invasive."

"I’m a demon. Invasiveness is my strong suit. I sabotage, disturb, and occasionally give unsolicited advice. Teasing is for cupids and ghost coaches."

She ran her hands over her face.

"This is punishment."

"Technically, it’s a cosmic consequence of your failure to properly read occult texts. Punishment is what happens if I have to sleep on the couch."

He got up from the armchair and began inspecting the room like a picky landlord. He stopped in front of the bookshelf, tilted his head, and let out a judgmental "hmm."

"‘Contemporary romance with a touch of drama and questionable endings’..." He read the titles aloud. "You’ve got good taste. Predictable, but good."

"Don’t touch my books."

"I’m just analyzing. Promise. Still processing the fact that I was summoned by an Ali Hazelwood fan. Explains a lot."

"Like what?"

"That you should be careful what you wish for, human. Sometimes the enemy shows up... but the romance ends up in debt."

Emma narrowed her eyes but didn’t respond. It was hard to argue when the guy you wanted to kick out of your room was wearing your lilac bathrobe and philosophizing about contemporary fiction like a bored literary critic.

"Look," she started, raising a finger, "if you came here to destroy my self-esteem and my literary taste all at once, congrats. Mission accomplished."

Vessel gave her a lazy smile and pulled a book off the shelf, flipping through it like it was some strange artifact.

"And if you wanted the right demon, maybe you should’ve double-checked your pronunciation and, I don’t know, used... what’s it called, Gorgul?"

"Google. It’s called Google."

"Yeah, that. You didn’t do that and now you’re stuck with me — a dramatic catalyst for your life’s plot. You know, every protagonist needs one."

"I’m not a protagonist. I’m a senior lit student trying to finish her final project without completely losing her mind. And you", she pointed at him like she was facing off with a flying cockroach, "are what happens when sleep deprivation meets sketchy grimoires from the internet."

"Exactly," he replied, proudly. "I’m the plot twist you didn’t ask for, but now have to deal with."

She rolled her eyes and collapsed onto the sofa, sinking into the cushions like they could shield her from the supernatural avalanche in the shape of a man currently invading her life. He returned to the armchair, now chewing on a bookmark like it was a toothpick.

"What’s your full name again?" she asked, too tired to keep denying reality.

"Oh. Now you ask… Gonna try to gain power over me by learning my name? Hate to burst your bubble, but that’s just superstition. Doesn’t work."

He dropped the bookmark and leaned forward, elbows on his knees, as if about to share a precious secret.

"My name is Vessel. Just Vessel. The rest is unpronounceable in human tongues and causes spontaneous combustion in recycled paper."

"Great. So, Mister Vessel, what exactly do I need to do to dissolve this arcane bond or whatever it is?"

He shrugged.

"Like I said, something grand. A deep personal achievement. Could be an act of true love, an emotional epiphany, or... turning in that assignment with your soul in it."

Emma raised a brow.

"You’re telling me if I write a good short story and get a high grade, you’ll disappear?"

"Maybe. Or maybe you’ll realize you like having me around and decide to keep me for a few centuries. Imagine that? The first human to keep a demon as a literary consultant. You’d blow up on Shick-Shack"

"It’s TikTok. And I’d rather have a cat named Cersei."

"And I’d rather be haunting a corrupt banker right now, but life’s full of surprises."

A brief silence settled between them, broken only by the low drone of the TV, where reality show contestants were yelling for absurd reasons.

"Fine," she said at last. "Let’s make a temporary deal. You stay out of my dreams, my drawers, and my personal drama. In exchange, you can... comment on my drafts. But only if you promise to stop wearing my robe."

Vessel looked down at the purple fabric wrapped around him with a thoughtful expression.

"Tricky. It’s absurdly comfortable."

"I’m not negotiating, I’m threatening."

He raised his hands in surrender.

"Very well, human. We have a provisional truce. But fair warning: I’m excellent at subtext and terrible at boundaries."

Emma sighed.

"Why me?"

"Because you said the wrong words, in the wrong tone, at the wrong time. And deep down, you wanted an impossible story. Congrats. Now you’re living one."

He smiled sideways.

And for a second — just one — Emma had the distinct feeling her life had officially gone off the rails.

________________

Emma thought that, after accidentally summoning a demon, nothing else could surprise her. She thought. Because on the fifth day of forced cohabitation, she found herself trying to attend her Comparative Literature class while an infernal being made sarcastic remarks in her ear like some kind of hellish commentator, audio-description version for those who never asked for it.

"Seriously, you're debating the narrator's function for the third time this week?" Vessel yawned, floating beside her chair. "Have you considered summoning the narrator's spirit and asking directly? Much more efficient."

Emma gripped her pen so tightly it almost turned into a weapon.

"Shut up."

The girl sitting next to her, with a thick braid and a curious look, turned slowly, frowning.

"What?"

"Nothing!" Emma forced a smile. A stiff, tense smile. "Just… talking to myself, no big deal"

The girl nodded with an awkward little smile and went back to her notes. Vessel chuckled.

"Nice save, Emma. Totally natural."

"Why are you here?" she whispered through clenched teeth. "You don't have to follow me to college."

"Of course I do. Arcane bond, remember? Until it dissipates, I go where you go. Including your Literary Analysis classes that smell like boredom and mildew. Oh, and there's something dripping from that ceiling fan. Just saying."

Emma looked up. Yep. It wasn’t demon sweat, unfortunately.

He rose and hovered a bit higher, observing the classmates, the whiteboards, the motivational posters taped to the walls. It was the first time he seemed genuinely curious.

"Humans put motivational quotes on walls when they lack internal motivation, is that it?"

"Shhh!"

Vessel let out a sigh, and she imagined he rolled his eyes too, before beginning to recite the posters in a dramatic tone as she tried to copy the projected slides:

"You are capable of everything you haven’t tried yet.' How poetic. And vague. Have you tried flying, Emma?"

"I will curse you if you don’t shut up," she hissed.

"Too late, sweetheart. That’s my job."

During the break, she tried to seek refuge in the library. A sacred place. Quiet. Cozy. At least until Vessel discovered the computers.

"Wow. This place is a relic. Smells like ancient dust and burnt cookies." He turned on a terminal with a snap of his fingers. "The system froze before it even opened the browser. Impressive."

"Please don’t touch anything."

"Too late. I found YouTube. Look at this! A channel called ‘Apocalypse Cooking’. There’s a video on how to make doomsday garlic bread with just three ingredients."

"You’re going to crash the system, and the librarian’s going to kick me out again."

"Relax, she can’t even see me. In fact, she’s looking at you right now like ‘this girl’s been talking to herself for way too long’."

Emma gave the librarian a fake smile and waved. The woman blinked slowly, like someone who had long since given up trying to understand young people.

When she finally sat down to write her story for the Creative Writing class, on her own laptop and not the library fossils, Vessel sprawled — invisible — on the floor between the bookshelves and started narrating his own demonic contract with the tone of a French cult film trailer.

"‘Partial invocation. Potential emotional bond. Guaranteed chaos for an indefinite time. Not recommended for minors or emotionally unstable adults.’ Dramatic enough?"

"Vessel..."

"‘Any exorcism attempt will result in public embarrassment, nausea, and academic failure.’"

She looked up, pushed her laptop aside, and stared at him.

"This is a nightmare."

"No, this is college. Hell is less bureaucratic."

He stood, circled her chair, and pointed at her laptop screen.

"Okay, but seriously. This dialogue in your story? How do humans say it? ‘Meh.’ Needs more chaos. Emotion. Subtlety. Want help?"

Emma raised an eyebrow.

"You were serious when you said you could help me write the story?"

"I’ve inspired tragedies since Ancient Greece. I was the muse of three cursed playwrights. One has a festival named after him. Another choked on parchment. The third... fell in love with a tree. Long story."

She sighed.

"Well, I did try the ritual for this exact reason... but if you make me get a bad grade..." She left the threat hanging, staring at him in what was meant to be intimidating. It’s hard to scare a demon who’s been alive for millennia.

"I have millennia of tragedy under my belt, darling. I’m basically a walking infernal genius. And better than most people charging fifty bucks an hour."

Emma shut the laptop with a snap and looked around. The library remained silent, the other students oblivious to the supernatural being sprawled in front of her.

"Okay, but we’re not doing this here. I’m not about to become known as the crazy girl who talks to herself in the library. Let’s go home."

She looked at the empty space — or rather, at Vessel — and muttered with the expression of someone who had already given up fighting fate:

"What the hell have I gotten myself into?"

Vessel grinned, already wrapped in an aura of false innocence.

"The best version of your existence. Now let’s go home and write your story. I want metaphorical blood and emotional climax. And preferably no happy endings. There’s already too much romance on those shelves."

[flowery-mess]

what if

Pairing: frat boy Noah x female reader

reader has a name (Ella Thompson, but the story is written in 'your' POV)

Warnings: 18+ MDNI! / pregnancy scare / talks about not wanting to have kids in future / sex allusions but no actual sex content in this chapter / period mentions / I think that's it, let me know

Words: 2,1k

Author's note: something shorter for these two. Credits to @thenmaybehellaintsobadafterall for the pregnancy scare idea🥰

frat boy Noah masterlist

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“Exams.” was the only thing on your mind these days. You had projects that needed to be finished and you had to study a lot. Plus last week you had to attend a few classes at the neuropsychology ward at the local hospital.

It was amazing, working with patients and putting your studies to use. But it was tiring as hell. Every day you came back to your dorm, had a shower and went to sleep, that’s why you had so much stuff to catch up on now.

You didn’t go to parties, neither did Noah. Some people wouldn’t have guessed it, but he was a very good student. He always made fun of you for doing stuff at the last minute.

You were too caught up with school that you forgot about yourself. Because today, when you snapped at your classmate, you realized something.

Earlier that day:

“Ella, come on I’ll pay you to do my homework.” David, your classmate, a very annoying one, tried again to talk you into doing his homework for him. You were too caught up with your own shit you told him last week that you’re not going to do it.

“I already told you no.” you didn’t look up from your book when you gave him your answer.

“Please Ella! You’re so good at psychology and I need a good grade.”

“Compliments won’t get you anywhere.” you snorted at his try.

“Okay how much do you want?”

“I’m not gonna do it David.”

“Then tell me what do you want if not money. Dinner? Drinks? Sex?” and that was the last straw.

“Who do you think I am? Sex?” you finally lifted your head up from the book and looked at him.

“I didn’t mea-” he didn’t get to finish that sentence because you stood up and packed your things.

“Do your own fucking homework. If you can’t do it yourself then your presence in senior year is very questionable.” as you were leaving the study room he managed to yell one more sentence: “Are you on your period or what?”

You just flipped him off, but realized that for a fact you were not having your period, but you should be.

Your body was in so much stress already that if any more was because of your late period you didn’t even notice it.

You tried to calm yourself down with “It’s only a few days.” and “It’s probably because of the stress.”, but that didn’t do a good job.

So you made a quick stop at the school pharmacy and bought a pregnancy test. You really tried to not let it get to your head, you didn’t need any of that now. It happens sometimes, it’s nothing unusual.

You still had to finish the project you were working on before David interrupted you, so you made it to the library to continue where you left it.

“Fuck me!” you cursed to yourself after you didn’t click on save and the last paragraph you wrote was now gone.

“I could do that.” you heard behind your back.

Turning around you were met with Noah. He was wearing black sweatpants and gray hoodie and fucking flip flops.

“What are you doing here?” you didn’t hide your surprised voice, because Noah’s presence in the library was something that could be considered weird or odd.

“I just came here for a few books, need them to finish my essay.” he shrugged his shoulders and sat down next to you.

“Okay.” you replied and went back to writing your own. Noah didn’t find your behaviour weird, because he knows how you get when you’re stressed from exams.

“What are you doing?” you asked him with a side eye as he opened one of the books that laid in front of him.

“Reading a book?”

“But why are you doing it here?”

“Because it’s a library?”

“Noah, you never study in the library.”

“True, but you’re here and you’re my favorite study buddy.” he said with a teasing smile. He knew how far he could get before you got angry with him.

You just rolled your eyes and focused back on your notebook.

After a while you forgot Noah was next to you, he was quiet and the only sounds you could hear was when he turned the pages.

You didn’t realize how much time had passed until you heard your stomach doing unnatural sounds.

“Oh my god, you didn’t eat again?” Noah rolled his eyes at you, annoyed with how you forget to eat when you’re this focused.

“I did! I’m gonna leave soon, I just need to finish this page.”

“Sure, liar.” he said and reached for your bag. “Do you have any snacks in here?” he dove his head into the bag and started looking for something that could help with your hunger.

“Nah I think I ate the las-” you didn’t even lift your head up from the papers in front of you, because it wasn’t the first time Noah rummaged through your bag to find a snack or just look at what’s inside. Mystery of a woman’s bag.

“What the fuck?” you heard the sounds of things being thrown around inside of the bag stop and looked up.

“Fuck.” you whispered as you were looking at Noah who was holding the pregnancy test. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” you repeated and tried to take it from his hands, but he was quicker.

“What the fuck?” yeah seems like you both forgot other words than fuck.

“Put it back before anyone sees it!” you whisper yelled at him. He looked around and remembered where you two were and hid under the table in his lap.

“Still Ella, what the fuck? Are you fucking pregnant?” he was panicking, full on panic mood.

“No!” you said, “I don’t know.” and then continued.

“What does that mean?” he groaned, visibly getting frustrated from this whole situation.

“Okay, calm down.” you took a deep breath and laid your hands on his shaking ones.

“I realized that I'm a few days late with my period. But it’s normal, it must be the stress from exams.”

“Have you already done it?” he looked down at the small box in his hand.

“No.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” his shocked expression was looking at you. “Let’s go.” he started packing both of your things and when he was done he took your hand in his and made you stand up.

He led you out of the library and in the direction of toilets.

“I’m not doing it in school Noah!” you tried to stop him, but he had more strength.

“Then let’s go to your dorm.” he turned around and started walking in the direction of the main exit. He looked like a crazy person.

“Molly is there.”

“She’s your friend, she'll understand.”

“She hates you.”

“And she’ll hate me even more if I knocked you up.”

“That’s true.” you agreed, thinking if Molly would use her voice or her hands on Noah if the test was positive. “But I don’t wanna do it there.”

Noah stopped walking which made you hit his back. He turned around and you finally realized that he was probably really scared.

“Then we’re going to my place.” his steps were back at a quick pace now towards the parking lot.

“Noah calm down, you’re not helping the situation.”

“Get in.” he opened the car door for you and before he sat behind the wheel he put both of your bags in the back.

You didn’t know what was going through his mind so you stayed silent.

As you were looking out of the window you thought about the two possible outcomes. First, it’ll be negative and everything will get back to normal. But what if it’ll be the second option, positive.

You don’t want kids, at least not now. What will Noah’s reaction be if there are two lines? Will he be angry? Yell at you? Cry? Throw you out and tell you that he never wants to see you again?

You felt tears in your eyes at the thought of Noah not talking to you anymore, at the thought of losing him.

“Will you be mad?” you whispered and turned your head to look at him. He was focused on the road and his hands were gripping the wheel so hard that his knuckles turned white. But when he heard the crack in your voice he looked at you for a second before shifting his gaze back to the road.

“Ella.” he said your name with a sigh and shook his head. “I won’t be mad. I’m just scared as fuck.” he admitted.

“Me too.” you confessed. His hand reached over the center console and grabbed one of yours. He gave you a comfort squeeze which you returned.

The rest of the ride was silent.

—

“Let’s do it.” you said and grabbed the white and pink box. You turned around and started walking to Noah’s bathroom.

When you were inside you went to close the door behind, but instead you hit something and heard a bang on the door. You heard “Ouch.” and turned around to see Noah right behind you.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you said. He just looked at you with puppy eyes and said “Coming in?”

“Noah, you're not watching me peeing on a stick.” it took a few minutes to convince him that you’re not going to lock yourself in his bathroom and he made you promise that you won’t look at it without him.

When you sat down on the toilet it still felt like Noah was in the room with you.

“Noah, I know you’re behind the door.” you groaned.

“Just do it.”

“I can’t do it if I know you can hear me.”

“Jesus Ella.”

“Leave me alone or I’ll lock myself here for the rest of our lives.” and then you heard him dramatically stomp away.

You did what the instructions told you and washed your hands. You took the test and left the bathroom only to find Noah pacing back and forth in his kitchen.

You put the test on the counter, took out your phone and set the timer for 3 minutes.

“It’s gonna be negative Noah.”

“It must be, we use condoms.”

The timer went off before you could talk about anything else and you looked at each other with worry in your eyes.

“Do you wanna look at it?” he asked you.

“Do you?”

“No, you do it.”

So you reached out for your phone to turn it off and then you took the test. You took a deep breath before turning it around.

“It’s fucking negative!” you yelled out loud and cheered.

“Thank God!” Noah placed his hands on his chest where his heart is and leaned against the counter.

Noah threw the test away and clapped his hands like a little kid that just achieved something.

You sat up on the counter and couldn’t help but ask him “What would your reaction be if it was positive?”

“I don’t know.” he answered honestly.

“Do you ever want to be a dad? I don’t mean right now obviously, but in the future.”

“I don’t know. Probably no. I don’t know how to be a dad.”

“No one knows how to be a parent until they are.”

“Well the only example I ever had was my father, so I think I’ll pass.”

“You’re not like your father.” you frowned at his words. He was so scared of being like his father that he’d rather not have kids at all.

“The idea of having kids doesn’t really excite me in general, it’s not just because of him.” after you didn’t give him another answer he asked you, “What about you? Do you want kids?”

“I don’t think so.” you shrugged your shoulders.

“Why?”

“If I tell you that you’re just gonna throw my words at me.” it was because of your mom.

“You know you’re also not like your mother right?”

“There we go.” you rolled your eyes, but then you both laughed. “I just know that she always did everything with a good intention and she always wanted the best for me, but she still hurt me so much. I don’t want to do that to a kid. What if I’d think I’m a good mom, but my kid would hate me.”

“Then I guess it’s a good thing the test was negative. Can you imagine us as parents?”

“We would be cool parents!” you protested.

“Yeah, maybe in another universe.” Noah laughed and you agreed with him.

You spent the rest of the day together, finishing your own school work before ordering dinner. Noah dropped you back at the campus and it would be Noah if he didn’t say “Maybe if you come over tomorrow and we have sex your period will come sooner so we can be sure you’re really not pregnant?”

You just closed the door in his face and flipped him off.

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This story is a work of fiction, with the plot and characters entirely made up. The appearance and name of the main male character are inspired by Noah Sebastian Davis, but the storyline bears no connection to the real person. Please do not steal or repost this work on other platforms without permission.

Taglist: @lacy1986 @concretejunglefm @super-btstrash-posts @amelia-acero @justcarrie @koskeepsake @dominuslunae @ami--gami @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @chey-h @xmads-omensx @blade-dressed-in-red @respectfulrebel @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @mrscevans @blvckmvgicwoman @punkprincess1999 @fear-its-beauty @bloody-spades @n0n3xsisting @thenmaybehellaintsobadafterall @athenexe @tashka @badomensls @fadingintothegrey @concrtlimits @whatismylifexox

If you want to be on my taglist click here

[mrsfrecklesmarauders]

It was quite something to cry alone in the dark. Her cries were all that it was heard in the empty room.

Lily used to be afraid to be alone in The Common Room at night when she was younger. Now it was all she craved. And taking her advantages of prefect, she could cry alone in peace.

Lily didn't know why she felt so guilty. Why did she miss Potter's stupid comments and stupid smile that once drove her crazy. She used to wish he would disappear. And now that he ignored her, and openly hated her, Lily wanted to go back to how things were.

But it was stupid! Sev was right. She should be the one ignoring him. The one angry with him. Potter had played her once more. She had been a fool. Lily should be relieved to have him off her back.

Then why did she feel so hallow?

Lily's sobs turned into sniffs and she blew her nose.

She thought she was alone. Until a hand touched her shoulder.

Her instant reaction was to scream, making the other person scream. Then she remembered they were in the Common Room. They would wake everyone up. So she shushed them. The other person shushed too.

"What the fuck?" Lily whispered now, rising from the couch.

The shadow in front of her was from a boy. But Lily couldn't see in a dark.

"Sorry, Lily" the other person whispered back. A familiar voice.

With her heart still racing inside her chest, Lily stumbled to the light switch.

Lights on, Rick Stevens raised his hands like a criminal being caught. Rick was a Gryffindor, a year below Lily. Known to be part of the Rugby team. Marlene's first kiss in a weak drunk moment. And kind of nice.

Not Lily's friend precisely but an acquaintance. She sighed in relief. It wasn't a ghost or a murderer.

"Oh," Lily grabbed her chest "fucking hell Rick. You scared me"

"I didn't want to scare you" he shrugged "I was coming in and I heard you cry..."

Lily blushed humiliated. She was supposed to be alone.

"It's nothing... I..." Lily shook her head, thinking how to explain when she remembered she was a prefect and shouldn't give explanations "Were you just coming in?" she raised an eyebrow "It's way past carefew"

It was Rick's turn to go red.

"What were you doing, Rick?"

"I can ask you the same thing" he put his hands on his hips. Lily noticed he was still wearing his uniform but all messy, tie undone and hair tangled.

Lily also noticed the lipstick marks on his neck.

"I am the prefect. I ask the questions!" she mirrored his position.

"Nice pijamas..."

Lily felt her cheeks on fire. She covered herself.

"Rick!"

The boy sighed "Fine!" he grinned "I was with this Slytherin girl. Shelby." he nodded "Found me attractive so we snogged in an empty classroom and then, out of nowhere, she was sneaking her hand inside my shirt and down my..."

"Okay!" Lily snapped, flushed by the thought of how easy it was for kids her age to do stuff like that with practically strangers "I don't need details, Rick. I can imagine what happened next"

Rick grinned even more. Cheeks pink as the marks on his neck.

"You're still past carefew, so I will have to write you down"

Rick's smile disappeared from his face.

"No, Lily, wait!" he begged "I'm just an hour late! It's still early"

It was not early. Everyone had gone to sleep. Lily pursed her lips. It was her job to follow the rules.

Rick was begging with his hands "I promise I won't be late ever again. I just cannot have more detentions. My folks will kill me"

'Then you should have thought about it before breaking the rules' Lily wanted to say.

She should have said that before. Back when she was Penny Prefect Lily and everyone hated her for not being cool enough to be blind about their mistakes. Back when her only friend was Severus. And back when Potter and Black made fun of her and she hated them.

This year things were different. She had been having the taste of what it felt to be a real teenager. She had new friends. She went to parties and gossiped and had the attention of a boys for the first time.

Lily had been relaxing a little and enjoying herself. Until Potter ruined everything.

Lily didn't have the energy of making Rick hate her. Everyone hated her already. Potter, Black (the worst), Pettigrew. Even Remus. And the girls... Mary and Marlene were angry as well.

Lily had chosen Severus over them because he had been her friend first. And he deserved a second chance. Plus, getting involved with Potter had been a huge mistake.

"He just changed the strategy, Lily" Sev had said "He pretended to be your friend so he can have you as his trophy. You've been a fool to believe him! Now he is probably bragging to everyone how he managed to kiss you"

"Can I go?" Rick asked, bringing Lily to the present.

Lily took a deep breath "Alright"

The boy in front of her was static for a second. Lily Evans was letting him go! What a miracle.

"Really?"

Lily nodded.

"You won't write me down?"

Lily shook her head.

Rick laughed in relief. He gave Lily a quick hug.

"Oh Lily! Thank you, thank you, thank you!" he chanted, Lily giggled "You are the best! I knew you were cool in the bottom"

Lily smiled embarrassed. It felt good to be cool.

"There was a reason why I fancied you before"

That comment shocked Lily.

Lily Evans wasn't popular amongst boys. She wasn't pretty like other girls. She wasn't cool like other girls. She just had her first kiss at seventeen.

Severus liked her because she was his only friend. Potter liked her because she was an impossible and he had a huge ego. Luke had been the only exception.

Lily had begged and prayed to be more noticeable for boys because she wanted her epic romance and her prince charming.

"What are you talking about, Rick?"

Rick nodded "Back in my third year when you got pretty"

Lily blinked. Got pretty?

"You didn't have braces anymore and you started keeping your hair lose" Rick clarified "And damn those..." he pointed to her breasts "Grew considerably..." he nodded "Like a lot"

Lily covered her chest with her arms. Rick looked away.

He chuckled "Anyway, lots of blokes were after you that year"

Lily almost laughed "Lots of blokes?"

Rick nodded as if it was obvious.

"That's impossible"

"Trust me" Rick said "You were one of the top girls boys talked about. At least in my circle"

Lily remembered fourth year. Boys were finally noticing girls. And her classmates starting having boyfriends, dates, first kisses and romantic memories.

Not Lily. Never Lily. She was the loner who listened to others' experiences wishing it was her.

If that had been the case in fourth year, then why did Lily was never asked out? No boy had showed interest. Only Potter dared. Humiliating her of course. Because it had been for a bet with his stupid friends.

"I didn't know that"

Rick smiled "Trust me. I wanted to ask you then by you were with that boyfriend of yours... So..."

"Boyfriend?"

Lily's list of boyfriends were none. She had never dated a single soul.

Rick nodded, looking at Lily as a crazy amnesic old lady.

"Yeah the Slytherin bloke you always hung around with..."

"Severus?" Lily asked.

"Yeah!" Rick snapped his fingers "That's the one. Snape! The creepy one"

Lily snorted. It was common for people to believe Lily and Severus were just friends. People just couldn't accept some boys and girls were friends. Well, that was before Lily found out Severus had feelings for her.

"Sev was never my boyfriend, Rick" Lily clarified "We're just friends"

Rick frowned rather confused.

"That's not what he said"

"What?"

"He threatened every single bloke that showed interest in you" Rick added "Saying you were his and that you were foolishly in love with him"

Lily frowned. That couldn't be.

"Actually, that's what he told anyone who asked about your relationship" Rick continued "He said you were obsessed with him and a little crazy for him. And he could do whatever he wanted with you"

Lily was open mouthed at this point.

"Which is okay, I guess I don't judge" Rick added quickly "Then when you were seen with that Gardener bloke this year, he said it was because you got into a fight and you were making him jealous. And that eventually you were going to fall back into his arms. Which you did"

Lily had a strong knot on her throat. She didn't know if it was sadness or rage. That was the reason they stopped talking in the first place. Lily heard him talking. But he assured her it had been a one time thing. That he had been pressured by his Slytherin peers. And he had been angry because Lily never kissed him back at New Years.

Turned out Severus had been doing it since fourth year. Lying about Lily being his girlfriend. Pushing everyone away from her? Lily had believed there was something wrong with her.

"I never heard him talk, he mostly told things to the Slytherins" Rick added "But he did threaten me to stay away from you when he heard I was interested" he shrugged "That's why we were surprised when Potter carried asking you out" he said "We thought he just did it to piss Snape off"

Lily realized she was panting in rage, her fists were squeezed inside her arms.

"I honestly thought it was true" Rick seemed guilty that he had said something that fucked it up. Maybe he had.

"I've never dated him" Lily shook her head "We haven't even kissed"

"Oh"

"I'm a virgin"

Rick was surprised "Oh!" but Lily didn't care anymore.

Lily looked at him.

"You wanted to ask me out?"

Rick blushed.

"Oh yeah well, I fancied you for a while. But then I fancied other girls as well"

"You think I am attractive and there's nothing wrong with me?"

"Sure!"

Lily laughed then. And she was aware that she sounded like a maniac. But it was ironic that the only person she had trusted had been lying to her and manipulating her.

Severus had been her best friend for a long time and she just didn't understand why people didn't get it. How people just paired them up as boyfriend and girlfriend because they didn't understand their friendship. She blamed Potter and Black for their stupid jokes.

However it had been Severus himself who initiated the rumor and spread it around.

Lily liked Rick but he didn't fancy him. Although, he could have asked her then and maybe Lily would have agreed. Maybe they would be dating. Or she would have dated other boys. Who knows?

All her life, thinking she wasn't enough that there was something wrong with her. And that she wasn't pretty enough or attractive enough.

Maybe Lily would have rejected Rick but because it was her choice. Not Severus's.

Shit! What if he did the same with Luke and that was why he stopped talking to her and acted weird around her?

Lily had been sad thinking Luke just didn't like her.

Then, the thing with Potter started. Severus had been angry because Lily had kissed James. And the condition to be friends again had been to stop talking to her Gryffindor friends. Especially Potter.

Lily had felt guilty. She thought she had truly hurt Severus.

But Severus had been lying all along.

"Are you okay, Lily?" Rick asked with concern.

"Yeah, Rick" Lily snapped with fury "Everything is perfect"

The boy looked at her.

"I would ask you out now but I don't think I fancy you anymore, plus, I think I'm with Shelby..."

"It's okay" she smiled "I don't want you to ask me out"

"Okay..."

"You just opened my eyes" Lily said "Thank you"

"Alright" the boy shrugged.

"So, I'm guessing Snape was not the reason you were crying before, eh?"

It had been because of James Potter. It had been because she missed him. But she had to choose Severus. Or at least that was what she believed.

Lily shook her head.

"I've been an idiot, Rick"

Rick ducked his head to the side.

"I've been angry with the wrong boy"

Maybe Potter's reason to ask her out were selfish as well. But at least he had been upfront. Maybe she could talk to him about it.

Now Lily was finding out that her supposed best friend was worse. Fake all along.

Lily wanted to kill Severus Snape.

[theangrycomet]

TFP's designs reflect the writer's decisions regarding character direction very well.

It's not as though I don't like the designs on their own; on the contrary I actually love the less-action-figure-and-more-extraterrestrial art direction they took with the Transformers.

But a lot of the designs push certain aspects so far to the point where their barely recognizable from the characters they are supposed to be.

Somewhat Coherent Ramblings below on the 3 biggest "victims" with my (admittedly limited) transformers lore knowledge.

is that a stickbug or a snake?

Starscream got a bad back from carrying the entire Decepticon cause on his shoulders while Megatron's snorting up Satan's crotch dust so forgive his poor posture.

Like it's a solid design for a for a sniveling backstabber- being able to look like a pathetic little bug one second to a ruthless killer the next.

And I love how he's rigged and animated- forget Predaking most of the animatign budget went into Starscream's theatrics-

Honestly he's probably the least "problematic" for lack of a better word for me because he can be fixed with giving him a paint job and maybe a helmet- probably styled along the lines of RID!Starscream's helm and he'd be fine.

A bigger part of my problems with his design now that I've ruminated on it is more how he's not allowed to feel like a proper, competent threat on his own after the first half of S1- and in turn, how he's not allowed to be intimidating more often.

the Sleeping Beauty Dress argument

Seriously tho- like she looks good but why did they make her blue specifically? Just make her a dark magenta to go with the muted color scheme of the show if your worried about her standing out to much (she's a $30k sports bike in bumfuck nevada- she's already flunked the "in disguise" part of the class)

I get the "oh the she's only girl she shouldn't be pink" argument but you know what would address that? HAVING MORE FEMALE CHARACTERS.

Getting off track...

Again, Arcee's design on it's own, even with the whole "female transformers must be motorbikes so we have an excuse to make them slender" trend, it's really cool.

It reflects her tough-love approach, and how the war has left her sharp around the edges so she doesn't get hurt again. But she doesn't really feel like an ARCEE design.

Like I've said before, it feels like at times the writers couldn't get permission to get the characters they wanted and decided to write the characters they could get to fit the story they wanted to tell, and that reflects in their designs at times. She takes charge of the team because she's best suited for the job, just ask her.

Arcee even is the one to take out Shockwave and allow her and Cliffjumper's escape- similar to how another blue-femme rescued a similarly named friend from Shockwave's clutches back in G1.

With this design and writing direction, it would have been better suited to another spiky blue femme; Chromia. She even comes with an established red love interest to kill off (sorry Ironhide).

Hell if the writers REALLY wanted they could have even still had her Tailgate Event happen with her favorite sharpshooter (sorry Moonracer).

Arcee girly pop

boombox gone eldritch cyber horror

I love this design so much, but where the HELL is Soundwave supposed to store his minicons??? That's his whole thing! Yes he has Laserbeak- but there should be SOME indication of where his lost Cassettes used to go even if they are dead (which in all likely hood they are but again- SEPERATE post).

It's very interesting to me how stripped down he looks, as though with each cassette he's literally lost a piece of himself.

Give Soundwave his Full-Grown Children Back Damn You.

Rumble and Frenzy would have had a fucking BLAST messing with the Jasper team- humans and bots alike.

Bonus:

I will admit when I found RID Drift's design and how Jetstorm and Slipstream are docked on him, I am curious if Soundwave's had his Cassettes on his arms too.

Because if that is the case Soundwave does have room on his arms for at least two- maybe four on the shoulders.

[slvt4em1lyprenti2s]

hii !! as i am a sucker for hurt/comfort could you maybe please write smth where emily prentiss x f!reader are already in a relationship and rewrite the episode with tobias hankel to be with the reader the one who gets kidnapped instead of spencer? thank you !

It’s not your fault

Summary: Rewrite of the Tobias Hankel storyline but reader gets kidnapped instead of Reid, Emily and reader are already in a relationship.

TW: kidnapping, torture, drug addiction, involuntary use of drugs, depression, hurt/comfort

Pairings: Emily Prentiss x fem!reader

A/N: I've never rewritten an epsiode before so tell me how I did!! Hope you like it anon 🫶🏻

Emily pov:

JJ's here, y/n's..... where's y/n? Oh god please. "JJ look at me." Morgan cut off her panicky rambling. "Look at me. Where's y/l/n?"

"We split up. She said she was going to go in the back."

I hear someone yell that the house was clear.

"So where the hell is she?"

My heart dropped into the my stomach. 

I frantically start searching the property for some sign of her as I walk towards the corn field, it looks like someone was dragged through it jeez. Wait, it looks like someone was dragged through it.

"I think y/l/n followed him into the corn field! It looks like somebody got dragged."

Instantly the team is by my side, desperately searching for y/n/n. My girlfriend, the reason I wake up in the morning. Gone. My chest starts to tighten and tears prick my eyes, I swallow down the lump in my throat and keep looking. I can't break down right now, I need to find her.

—

Reader pov:

My eyes are blurring and my head is pounding. I try to move but my hands and feet are bound to a chair, painfully tight. My thoughts are all over the place, where am I? What happened out there? Did JJ get taken too? Just as I'm about to try get out of the binds a person slams open the door.

He's carrying fish. It stinks.

"They're burning fish hearts and liver to keep the devil away." I stare at him without saying anything, I don't want to.

"They believe you can see inside men's mind."

I hold back the urge to roll my eyes.

"It's not true. I study human behaviour."

"You know what this is? It's god's will." He says totally ignoring my response already set in his ways. "Time to confess, y/n y/l/n."

"I have nothing to confess."

He slapped me. Once, twice, three times.

"CONFESS!"

Tears slip from my eyes, I don't say a word. He pulls out a knife and starts to slice my skin. A crimson river flows out of my paling skin, pain coursing through my body. I still don't crack. His fist makes contact with my face.

I just want this to end. I finally give into the exhaustion slipping into a dreamless sleep.

—

Emily's pov:

"I'm talking tomorrow morning to some guy who knew Hankel from narcotics anonymous. You should come with me. Why don't you come with me, get out of the house?" I say to JJ as I enter the bathroom.

"Yeah." she says back, clearly shaken up and deflated from the recent events.

"Okay. Great." I walk out of the bathroom and into my room.

There it is again, that funny feeling, like I'm being sat on. Or like there's a weight in my chest. Climbing into my bed I can feel it constricting my breath. Tears are pouring out of my eyes at this point, my legs are tucked into my chest and my breaths are short and fast. A wave of pain comes over me as I think about what's happening to y/n. She's hurting and there's nothing I can do about it. I'm failing her.

—

Reader pov:

"What's your name?" I ask the same man who walked in before. He's got multiple personalities that I need to differentiate between, I need to play this right.

"Tobias."

"Tobias? Who was here before?"

"It was probably my father. I'm sorry if he hurt you."

I see him reach into his pocket and pull out a bottle and a syringe. Oh god, please no. Don't do it Tobias please.

"What are you doing? Don't. Please don't."

"It helps. Don't tell my father. He doesn't know they're here."

"Please I don't want it. I don't want it please."

I can feel the warmth pulsing through my body. My system being thrown into a high almost immediately. I hate every second of it. I start to slip in and out of consciousness. I need Emily. I need the warmth of her skin, the softness and comfort of her voice. I need her kisses on my skin. I fight to keep my eyes awake but fail.

—

Emily pov:

"So what was Tobias' drug of choice?"

"Dilaudid."

The man keeps talking about how Tobias' dad used to beat him and burnt a cross onto his forehead. That's one hell of a stressor.

My head is spinning as we get back to the local PD. The evidence was all adding up, we had a name, address, background, information about his personalities. Why can't we find her? We even have live footage of her door goodness sake! I try to control my anger and begin licking furiously at my fingers, biting my nails. I need to find her.

"She's in a cemetery."

We call Garcia and get her to find a cemetery near by and there's one right by the barn. I don't think I've run to an SUV faster to be honest, I need her, need to hold her. To know she's okay.

—

Reader pov:

Im digging my own grave. This is not the way I wanted to go out.

"I ought to bury you alive in there, give you time to think about what you done." He stares daggers into my back as I dig.

"Dig faster!" He yelled at me, I can't dig any faster.

"I'm not strong enough." I say, dejected. I can't do this anymore.

"Y/L/N!" I hear someone yell in the distance.

"Over there!" Another voice calls out, I'm too delirious to register who.

"You killed him." Tobias said to me.

"Tobias" I say, suddenly feeling remorse for him, I don't know what's happening.

I see his body fall limp and realise somebody had shot him, it was over.

“Are you okay?” I hear Hotch say.

“Yeah, uhm can I have a minute alone?” I slowly walk up to Tobias’ body and stealthily reach into his pocket and take the dilaudid. I’m not proud of it, but it’s the only way I can cope right now.

As I’m walking away, Emily is straight by my side, just like always. She’s the only person who knows me, like really knows me. She’s everything to me.

“How are you holding up?” Her gentle voice breaks through the mist of confusion that had descended over me.

“I’m okay. Or, I will be.”

“Yeah, you will. I promise.”

—

Time skip to around a month after

Emily pov:

I’m walking through the doors of the apartment me and y/n share and I hear- well, nothing. Which is strange because normally she’s watching tv, doing something in the kitchen or making some kind of racket.

She might’ve gone out.

I try to reassure myself but have a sinking feeling of dread in my stomach. She’s not been the same after what happened with Hankel. It’s like someone flipped a switch while she was there, like something happened and now she’ll never be the same again.

I’m sure she’s fine.

I try to distract myself and go to take a shower. I walk into our bedroom and see the bathroom door is ajar, I go to look inside and see who’s in there - I assume it’s y/n/n. The sight before me is an awful one. She’s sitting on the floor, needle in hand, taking dilaudid.

“Oh my sweet girl.”

The look of guilt on her face as she realises I’m there break my heart into a million pieces.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I tried to stop, I really did. I didn’t want it I promise, I’m so sorry em.” Her eyes never met mine.

“Honey, it’s not your fault. Let’s stop this okay?”

She reluctantly nods and hands me the drugs. I tip the rest down the toilet and flush it. I put the needle on the side, planning to dispose of it later.

I offer her my hands and help her off the floor. As I bring her into my embrace, she’s noticeably thinner. The more I found out the more my mind races. What do I do? What do I do?

—

Y/n pov:

Oh god, oh god. I didn’t want her to find out. I’m trying to get a handle on it, she’s gunna be so mad at me.

I can feel my hands shaking and tears pooling in the corners of my eyes. Her hands clutch mine and helps me to my feet and pulls me into her. That’s when I finally break down.

“I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologise. You didn’t do this. We’re going to get you help yeah sweetheart?”

I nod into her neck, where my head lays. My frail body feeling exhausted after this sudden intervention in my daily dose, the withdrawal settling in.

“Em..”

“I know, I know. And I’m going to be with you through it, okay?”

“Thank you. I love you so much emmy.”

“I love you too y/n/n.”

It’s going to be a long road, but, being with her is going to make it so much easier. I’m so grateful for having her in my life.

A/N if you ever struggle with addiction, please never hesitate to reach out and please seek help, you are never alone. You don’t have to suffer in silence.

[soullumii]

if my heart’s gonna break | joel miller x f!reader

part 1 (read part 1 before reading this!)

summary: a couple nights later, you head back to joel’s

warnings: 18+!!!! smut again. unprotected piv. fem!afab!reader. angst again don’t worry i’ll make a happy ending okay

word count: 4k

joel mod in gif is by speclizer (so fucking hot oh my GODDDD)

a/n: finally finished part 2 omg i’m sorry for the wait yall… i’m a perfectionist it’s lowkey debilitating. anyways… i hope u guys enjoy <3 tysm for the support on part 1 and tbh on all my other fics too… i can’t believe ppl like my writing that much. i am very grateful! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

im scared but if my heart's gonna break before the night will end

i said we're in danger

sleeping with a friend

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

You cant stop thinking about the kiss. 

The kiss that honestly shouldn’t mean so much to you. You’ve kissed him, like, so many times. So many times his tongue has been in your mouth, been in your damn vagina. So why the fuck… why the fuck are you so worked up over this right now?

It’s just…it was so heavy. It felt like…like more than just a kiss. Like he was laying his life down for you, much like he does in patrols. 

He… Joel… he usually never kisses right after sex. He recognizes in the post-coitus energy that things are different. They mean more. He has to know that. So… why now? Does he…?

No. You’re just in your head again. Maybe you’re thinking about it too hard. You’ve never had a friends with benefits situation before now. Maybe this… maybe this is regular.

But for your own psyche, you think you might have to set some ground rules. 

There was always that main rule, that wretched, critical rule. The one you said to him on the first day of your strange exchange.

“Don’t go falling in love with me, cowboy.”

Well, to hell with that one, right? Pretty sure you’ve beaten that shit to death. Shattered all possible remains of it.

So more rules. More rules will have to do. Starting with:

No kissing.

Should be easy enough. 

You’ll figure out the rest later. You have got to stop thinking about it, though, because you’re on the way to his house right now. 

You knock swiftly on the door, and you swear you feel your heart drop into your pussy the moment he opens the door to reveal himself. A plain, black t-shirt is stretched across his broad chest, haphazardly tucked into a pair of plaid pajama pants that hang loosely around his hips. His graying hair is ruffled beyond belief, curling around his ears and falling over his forehead. In your fits of passion and desire a couple nights ago, you hardly realized it had grown longer. It looks nice.

This sleepy and soft Joel is not one you’ve seen in a while. Well, it’s not like you’ve seen him much lately anyway, with him having been gone and all. Still, it’s disorienting. 

“Howdy,” he says.

“Um. Hi.” You try not to gawk. “Did…did I come at a bad time, or something?”

“No, not at all. I just got back from patrols… took a shower,” he says, leaning a shoulder against the door jamb, strong arms crossing over his chest. There’s a tiny, barely perceptible smirk on his lips. “Need somethin’?”

You see it now, the water clinging to his hair, darkening it, beading at his temples like sweat. You follow a line of water trickling down his throat until it disappears behind his collar.

Rule 2: Don’t come over after he’s showered.

“I…uh, I can come back later if you want—“

You’re nervous to ask him what you want to ask him, which is honestly ridiculous considering you guys have been doing this for months now. You used to be able to just knock on his door and he’d pull you in, and it was that easy. Or you’d give him a look when in public, and he knew exactly what you needed.

Now, you’re painfully awkward. Curse him and curse your feelings.

He straightens a bit, his brows furrowing in slight concern. “What’s goin’ on?”

Heat spreads down your neck, embarrassment. Shame. It’s strange, how just a couple nights ago you let him finger you in public, and now you’re afraid to ask him for sex again in his house and for your panties back.

You should honestly just say something like:

I’m here for my underwear.

And you’re positive he’d say:

Want it back? You gotta earn it, sweetheart.

And your knees would buckle and you’d sink down to the carpeted floor in front of his couch and suck him off until he was coming down your throat, stroking back your hair and thumbing his cum on your plush bottom lip.

But instead you’re scowling at him and blurting: “I need a drink.”

How dare he leave you high and dry for three weeks, come back and fuck the shit out of you, make you realize you’re in love with him, and look this good?

God damnit, you need to get your shit together. 

Joel’s eyes widen, surprised only slightly by your outburst, before he backs up to allow you inside his home. When he shuts the door behind you, his hand settles warmly on your lower back as he steers you toward the kitchen.

He immediately beelines for the liquor cabinet and grabs a bottle of red for you. A warm, tingly feeling stirs in your stomach at the fact that he knew you’d want wine. The frustration you’ve been feeling fizzles out. 

“You know me so well.”

He gives you a light smirk, uncorking the bottle. The liquor gurgles as he pours it into a glass. “Think you’d kill me if I didn’t know after all this time.”

You laugh, “Sure, but the real test of friendship is if you knew how I’d kill you.”

“A swift kick to the nuts and then one of my guitars to my head.”

Your eyes widen on a guffaw. “You think I’d damage one of your guitars?”

“You care more about my guitars than my genitals?” 

“Yes. Why would I ever smash one of your guitars?”

He rolls his eyes. “Kill two birds with one stone—my soul and my body. It’s effective. If you needed to kill me, I’d hope it was like that. Now how would I kill you?” 

You hum in consideration. “Trick question. You wouldn’t—no, you couldn’t.”

“You know me so well.” 

His words mirrored back at you so gently, with his brown eyes trained on you intently has the warmth in your belly spreading, making you drop your gaze.

His smirk grows and he hands you the wine glass and reaches for some homemade brandy. You watch the muscles in his arm flex as he pours, sipping daintily while your mind replays thoughts of filth. Of you dragging that arm between your legs, grinding down on it until—

“So, you really only here for a drink?” He asks with a playful lilt, taking a sip of his own beverage and effectively jolting you out of your daydreaming.

You lean against the island, wondering if you should tell him the truth. From the way he’s looking at you, hungrily and heated, like a lion ready to pounce, you’re tempted to.

But…you’re afraid. You can’t stop thinking about The Rule. The one you broke and the ones you just made. You wonder if whatever might happen between you two tonight will unravel them before you can even put them into place.

You look up at him through your lashes, lips pursed around the rim of the glass. “Maybe, maybe not.”

His eyes darken, tongue darting out to lick his lips of sweet fermented wine. His gaze travels up and down your figure, comfortable and breathable in a t-shirt and shorts. Nothing fancy and cute like your sundress from the other night, because today you had to work. But Joel has never minded what you’ve worn, swearing you always look sexy in anything.

Which is something that also makes you question this friends with benefits situation you have here.

He sets his glass down and eases in closer, curling an arm around your waist to pull you into him. “How high’s the chance then?”

“…What do you mean?”

“I mean what’s the probability that you really did only come here for a drink?” he drawls, eyes following your lips as your tongue dips out to wet them. “Or was there another reason?”

The cold tip of his nose brushes along your throat, lips ghosting over your skin. You tremble in his hold. “Odds are in favor of the first option,” you breathe, “ran out of alcohol at my place.”

“And you couldn’t just stop by the Bison? Had to steal from my stores?”

“You know you have the good stuff.”

“You’re lyin’ but I’ll pretend like you ain’t.”

That makes you laugh, and more tumble out of you when one of his hands traces lazily over your stomach, fingers light and delicate and teasing.

“So why d’ya need a drink?”

Because you’re driving me crazy. Because I’m driving myself crazy. Because the universe wants to fuck me over.

You smile and your free hand skates up his muscled back, your fingers brushing along the stretchy fabric of his tee, your voice soft. “Just needed to destress a little. Work has been intense.”

He grins back, presses it into the spanse between your throat and your shoulder, before he lightly scrapes his teeth over it and lays a gentle bite that has you keening into him, pressing your body against his.

“Well, I could help you destress another way too,” he murmurs, palm squeezing the pudgy flesh of your waist, fingers digging lightly into your muscle.

“Mm… yeah?” you hum, your voice a low purr, back arching. Your breasts press into his chest, and Joel makes a sound deep in his throat in agreement.

He presses you into the island, caging you in with his hands on either side of you. He towers over you, a sweatpant clad leg sliding between yours. 

He leans down to kiss you, and a flashing light blares in your mind — NO KISSING — loud and bright and distracting. You turn your head at the last second, his lips landing on your cheek. But Joel doesn’t pull back, doesn’t question you. He just kisses down your cheek, along your jaw, mouthing at you. Sucking your skin to leave little marks that will either fade or be covered by concealer. 

It used to upset you when he left marks because they’re a pain to cover up. Then, you started to like it. You didn’t mind covering up the marks because when you took the makeup off and saw them at the end of the day, all you could think about was him. About the how he made you come. About the words he muttered in your ear. About the feeling of his hands on you—in you. 

Now, you’re starting to grow upset again, but this time it’s because you want to wear them proudly. Want people to know he gets to claim you like this. But… you can’t. But you also don’t want him to stop.

You allow him to continue marking you up, his hand coming up to rest behind your skull, holding you in place. You press your body into his eagerly and with desperate, soft noises that he returns with placating moans.

And then he shifts, and his thigh ruts against your clothed core, and you moan lightly, airily, grinding your hips down against him, searching for any friction. 

His hands curl around the hem of your white tee, and he peels it off your body. One skates behind your back to easily undo the clasp of your bra, and then your breasts are heavy and on display for him. 

Joel stares down at you with heavy eyes. “Christ, you’re beautiful.”

Longing claws at your chest, and you look up at him coyly, your lip caught between your teeth. Joel groans like he’s in pain, and squeezes along the underside of one of your breasts before leaning down to close his mouth over the nipple while his other hand gives attention to the other, squeezing and pinching. Your hands find purchase in his damp hair as low moans tumble from your lips. 

When he’s deemed one nipple adequately appreciated, he moves onto the next. Licking, revering, his dark eyes peering up at you while his peppered hair is fisted in your hands. The sight has slick arousal pooling in your underwear.

Eventually he pulls back and his hands clamp down on your hips. He guides you along the muscle of his thigh, your clit pulsing at the contact. 

“Want you to come on my thigh, baby.” His voice is a ragged slur of words against your ear, warm and paired with a kiss to your cartilage. 

“Fuck…yes, Joel,” you whimper, sparks flying through your nerves with each roll of your hips.

His fingers grip your chin, tilting your head so you have no choice but to keep eye contact with him as you rut against his thigh. He’s grinning, eyes heavy lidded and deep, dark like wet tar. They suck you in as if they were quicksand.

You’d let him drag you under a million times over. 

Your best friend.

“Joel,” you moan, feeling yourself grow close. Standing at the cliff's edge. His eyes bore into yours, his grin slipping as he focuses on you. Focuses on making you shatter atop him.

“Come on, baby. You can do it. You can come,” he says encouragingly,  fingers stroking the skin of your hip. You feel tears prick your eyes as the waves crash, spreading from your throbbing clit along your muscles. Filling you with warmth, stronger and deeper than the buzz from the wine.

“Good job,” he praises gently. “Did so good.”

“Shut up,” you huff.

He laughs, and despite yourself, heat floods your body, throbs between your thighs. His words caress a deep, carnal animal inside of you, and the hunger takes over.

You frantically pull at his shirt until he has to tell you to slow down, and takes it off himself. Your hands run along his chest and stomach the moment they’re able to and down to the waistband of his sweats. You palm his hardening cock through the soft, gray fabric. Joel groans deep and heavy, his lashes fluttering as he stares you down. His hips thrust into your palm automatically. Involuntarily. 

God, that makes you light up like a firefly. Makes your nerves sing and your cunt flutter and your mind go numb.

He tugs down your shorts and underwear and sets you on top of the granite, but before he can strip the underwear from your ankle to no doubt pocket this pair like he did the other, you flick it off your foot across the kitchen. It lands somewhere near the door to the dining room.

He can’t steal all your underwear, or you’ll have none left.

“I wanted those,” he drawls, expression on the edge of a pout.

“Yeah, well I need them. It’s not common to come across a good pair of panties in this world.” 

“But I’d give ‘em back.” He’s full on pouting now. It is, unfortunately, very cute, but you’re used to it.

“Sure… like the pair you took from me the other night that I have yet to receive.” 

“How else am I supposed to get you to come over?” 

“I dunno? Maybe ask?”

“Should I leave a note on your door? Is that good enough for you?”

“At least be classy. A letter delivered in my mailbox with a wax stamp, please.” 

He laughs. “As you wish, Princess.”

He finally peels off his sweatpants, free of underwear beneath them, and you watch with barely concealed hunger as his cock springs free. 

And while you like the idea of him fucking you on the counter, you’d much rather him fuck you against the counter, so you hop down and turn so your back faces him. Your hands curl around the granite lip of the counter top, and you push your ass out and back, peering at him over your shoulder.

This way, it’s easier for him not to kiss you. Easier for you to turn your head and deny your lips to him. 

“Look at you…” Joel hums appreciatively at your show, at the wiggle of your hips as his palm smooths down your back and over your ass, squeezing at the plump flesh. 

You moan quietly, and Joel’s eyes darken, watching you intently like you’re the only thing in the room. 

His fingers drift down to your cunt and your slickness coats his fingers fully. You’re so wet for him. So ready for him to bury himself inside you and call you his.

It’s funny, you’ve lost all your heat from a few nights ago. All your sharp edged words. Now, you’re soft and pliant.

He swirls his soaked index and middle fingers along your clit, punctuating your sensitivity, before sliding them back inside you to the knuckle. You keen and push back, desperate for more. His fingers are so much longer than yours, thicker, and yet you crave more.

“That’s it, Joel,” you huff. “Fuck, feels so good. Need more.”

“Yeah? Tell me what you need, baby girl.”

Shame lights your cheeks, but you push down the embarrassment. “Need…need your cock inside me.”

He lays a kiss on your neck. “Still a bit desperate aren’t we?”

“You’re the desperate one, Mr. Panty Stealer. You’re a fucking creep.”

He chuckles against your neck, but he squeezes your ass in retaliation. “Be nice, would you?”

“You like it when I’m mean.”

“Wanna see how much I like it?”

“If you’re willing to show me and get on with this, sure.”

He huffs in amused frustration. “God, you’re annoyin’.”

You just smile innocently at him.

Your legs tremble, slick running down your thighs when Joel pulls his fingers out. He replaces them with the hardness of his cock, of which he runs along your wetness, readying himself.

“I think ‘bout you way too much,” he says into your back, pressing a gentle kiss there. “D’ya think ‘bout me too?”

It’s an odd question. One you’re not expecting. One that has your heart stuttering in quiet confusion from this sudden switch in tone.

“Of course I do.” Obviously. You told him as much. Three weeks. Three weeks you thought about him.

“Good… wanna be the only thing on your mind.”

A high pitched keen hisses through your teeth as Joel eases himself inside you with a long, slow stroke and a low moan. Your fingers white knuckle the countertop, gripping it tightly.

He presses in close, burying himself all the way in before he withdraws slowly, his cock sliding inside you torturously. 

“Joel,” you moan.

“I know, baby.” He presses kisses to your shoulders. 

Joel’s hand gravitates to the back of your knee, and he slowly pushes up to lift your leg until your knee is resting on the counter. 

And then… with this new angle…he starts fucking you in earnest.

His hips snap against your ass, the sound deafening in the kitchen, and you crumple against the granite with a moan.

“Shit,” Joel grunts. “Yeah.”

Each of his heavy thrusts punches the air from your lungs, and your fingers slip on the countertop, scrabbling for purchase every chance you can get. He’s hot, thick inside you, warm as he folds over you, his hand on your tummy holding you upright, the other keeping your leg up to continue hitting you at that pleasant, delicious angle.

“H-holy shit—oh—“

He breathes heavily at your neck, low grunts and moans escaping his lips from his efforts. “Could spend eternity inside you, darlin’. Fuck, you’re mine.”

Your heart stutters, the words uttered in a lust filled craze, likely meaning nothing. But to your traitorous brain, to the hope lingering in your chest like a persistent cough, they mean everything. 

“All…” you’re losing your train of thought, fucked into blissful nothingness. “All yours, Joel.” 

It’s too difficult for him to kiss you from this angle, which you’re relieved about. But a part of you longs for it, longs for the feel of his mouth moving against yours. 

Joel’s strong arm wraps around your chest, and pulls you up so you’re flush against his back as he pounds up and into you. Keens and whimpers and breathless pants escape you with every thrust.

“Please, Joel,” you cry, tears pricking at the edges of your swirling vision.

“What, baby?” He huffs. “Need’a come?”

You nod crazily. “Yes—need to—“

“Shhh okay… I’ve got you,” he murmurs gently, the hand wrapped around your tummy inching down to circle at your clit steadily.

Your legs buckle beneath you but Joel keeps you upright as the pleasure soars through you, sudden and strong. He strokes you through it, groaning praises into your ear before he comes inside you a moment later. 

The two of you hiss in tandem when he pulls out, but he smothers it when he lays his mouth over yours. You’re hardly coherent enough to remember your rule, and for a moment you let him kiss you. You kiss him back, chasing the heat of his mouth with your own, moaning against his lips when his tongue dips into your mouth. 

Then, you remember.

You pull back panting, cheeks a flame, “Joel.”

“Hm?” He murmurs, dragging his lips down your jaw before moving back up to pull you into another kiss. You move away before he can. His brows furrow in confusion. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t… I don’t think we should kiss anymore.”

He blinks. “What? Why?”

Your eyes flit across the kitchen, catching on labeled jars and wooden spoons and spices, anything but his own. “It’s too intimate.” 

It’s a lame excuse. Joel sees through it immediately.

“And my cock inside you ain’t?”

You sigh heavily, avoiding eye contact. “It’s different.”

“How? Enlighten me.” His tone has gone rougher. Hurt swirls in his eyes, and you feel worse than you did the other night.

Because you and I are friends. Because I don’t think I can pretend like that’s the truth when all I want is to call you mine. Because when I kiss you it’s like my world finally starts to make sense. 

“Please, Joel. Just…I don’t want to do it anymore. Can you respect that, please?”

He runs a hand down his beard, his hurt expression hardening into a stoic one you haven’t been on the receiving end of in years. Fuck. “Alright, I’m sorry. I won’t kiss you anymore.”

You expect relief but all that comes is a deep longing and sadness that you try to push to the depths of your conscience. Though, like a buoy, it keeps popping above the surface. 

“Thanks,” you say quietly.

The cleanup is awkward. He watches you silently as you pick up your underwear and slide them and your shorts back on. He seems far away, here and gone all at once. It makes you worry, makes you wonder if what you just said was the biggest mistake of your life.

But you have to do this. You have to hold him at arm's length because if you admit to him…if you tell him how you really feel… maybe he really will leave you. He’ll realize you’ve gone and fucked everything up, and the friendship you’ve kindled, the trust you’ve built, will all be for nothing.

You can’t lose him, even if it means you can’t keep him close.

“Thanks for tonight,” you say eventually, when he’s walking you out the front door.

He smiles at you, faint and untrue. It’s like the one from the other night. Like that laugh he forced out for you. You feel like a Joel from the past has teleported to the present, with his thin smile and his hard eyes. “Yeah, of course.”

“You okay?”

Joel frowns, shifts on his feet. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I dunno. You just seem… I don’t know. Never mind.”

“I’m good.” 

“You sure?”

He nods. “You need me to walk you home?”

“No, I’ll be okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” you hum. A moth circles the porch light. The two of you stare at each other for a long moment. He looks as if he wants to say something, but thinks better of it.

“Okay,” is all that he says. 

“Okay,” you repeat, feeling empty. A waif, a lonely white flag waving in the wind. “Um, I’ll see you later, then.”

“Yeah, sounds good. Night, darlin’,” he says, squeezing your arm, like he’s trying to be normal. It doesn’t work. His hand is cold. “Sweet dreams.”

“Night, Joel.”

It’s raining by the time you reach your house, and you curl under your blankets after a shower, your hair cold and wet against your scalp, listening to the droplets splattering against your window.

Sleep doesn’t come easy.

part 3

[painfullyblissful2000]

somebody else probably did this already and that's ok :3

some of kip kinkel's writings!!

confession note

"I have just killed my parents! I don't know what is happening. I love my mom and dad so much. I just got two felonies on my record. My parents can't take that! It would destroy them. The embarrassment would be too much for them. They couldn't live with themselves. I'm so sorry. I am a horrible son. I wish I had been aborted. I destroy everything I touch. I can't eat. I can't sleep. I didn't deserve them. They were wonderful people. It's not their fault or the fault of any person, organization, or television show. My head just doesn't work right. God damn these VOICES inside my head. I want to die. I want to be gone. But I have to kill people. I don't know why. I am so sorry! Why did God do this to me. I have never been happy. I wish I was happy. I wish I made my mother proud. I am nothing! I tried so hard to find happiness. But you know me I hate everything. I have no other choice. What have I become? I am so sorry. "

from a journal in his bedroom:

"I sit here all alone. I am always alone. I don't know who I am. I want to be something I can never be. I try so hard every day. But in the end, I hate myself for what I've become."

Every single person I know means nothing to me. I hate every person on this earth. I wish they could all go away. You all make me sick. I wish I was dead.

The only reason I stay alive is because of hope. Even though I am repulsive and few people know who I am, I still feel that things might, maybe, just a little bit, get better.

I don't understand any fucking person on this earth. Some of you are so weak, mainly, that a four year old could push you down. I am strong, but my head just doesn't work right. I know I should be happy with what I have, but I hate living.

Every time I talk to her, I have a small amount of hope. But then she will tear it right down. It feels like my heart is breaking. But is that possible. I am so consumed with hate all of the time. Could I ever love anyone? I have feelings, but do I have a heart that's not black and full of animosity?

I know everyone thinks this way sometimes, but I am so full of rage that I feel I could snap at any moment. I think about it everyday. Blowing the school up or just taking the easy way out, and walk into a pep assembly with guns. In either case, people that are breathing will stop breathing. That is how I will repay all you mother fuckers for all you put me through.

I feel like everyone is against me, but no one ever makes fun of me, mainly because they think I am a psycho. There is one kid above all others that I want to kill. I want nothing more than to put a hole in his head. The one reason I don't: Hope. That tomorrow will be better. As soon as my hope is gone, people die.

I ask myself why I hate more than anyone else. I don't know. But my head and heart want him dead. He only knows who I am through reputation, and I know he is scared of me. He should be. One bad day, and there will be a sawed off shotgun in his face or five pounds of Semtex under his bed.

I need help. There is one person that could help, but she won't. I need to find someone else. I think I love her, but she could never love me. I don't know why I try.

Oh fuck. I sound so pitiful. People would laugh at this if they read it. I hate being laughed at. But they won't laugh after they're scraping parts of their parents, sisters, brothers, and friends from the wall of my hate.

Please. Someone, help me. All I want is something small. Nothing big. I just want to be happy.

End. New day. Today of all days, I ask her to help me. I was shot down. I feel like my heart has been ripped open and ripped apart. Right now, I'm drunk, so I don't know what the hell is happening to me.

It is clear that no one will help me. Oh God, I am so close to killing people. So close.

I gave her all I have, and she just threw it away. Why? Why did God just want me to be in complete misery? I need to find more weapons. My parents are trying to take away some of my guns! My guns are the only things that haven't stabbed me in the back.

My eyes hurt. They hurt so bad. They feel like they are trying to crawl out of my head. Why aren't I normal? Help me. No one will. I will kill every last mother fucking one of you. The thought of you is still racing in my head. I am too drunk to make sense.

Every time I see your face, my heart is shot with an arrow. I think she will say yes, but she doesn't, does she? She says, "I don't know". The three most fucked up words in the English language.

I want you to feel this, be this, taste this, kill this. Kill me. Oh God, I don't want to live. Will I see it to the end? What kind of dad would I make? All humans are evil. I just want to end the world of evil.

I don't want to see, hear, speak or feel evil, but I can't help it. I am evil. I want to kill and give pain without a cost. And there is no such thing. We kill him - we killed him a long time ago. Anyone that believes in God is a fucking sheep.

If there was a God, he wouldn't let me feel the way I do. ....Love isn't real, only hate remains. Only hate."

"Love Sucks

No, I don't believe in love at first sight because love is an evil plot to make people buy alcohol and firearms. When you love someone something it is always taken away from you. I also would like to add that I hate each and every one of you. Because everything I touch turns to shit. I think if you think you fall in love with someone at first sight it might just be lust. Love at first sight is only in movies. Where the people in the movies are better than you. That is why you go to a pone [pawn] shop and buy an AK-15 because you are going to execute every last mother fucking one of you. If I had a heart it would be gray.

It is easier to hate than love. Because there is much more hate and misery in the world than there is love and peace. Some people say that you should love everyone. But that is impossible. Look at our history it is full of death, depression, rape, wars and diseases. I also do not believe in love at first sight. But I do believe in hate at first sight. Therefore love is a much harder feeling to experience."

at the top of his Spanish work sheet

"I will hunt you down and put a hole in your head. With explosives. You hear me. Power to the shampoo. RIP [sad face with Xed out eyes]. You must DIE."

statement to his victims

"I have spent days trying to figure out what I want to say. I have crumpled up dozens of pieces of paper and disregarded even more ideas. I have thought about what I could say that might make people feel just a little bit better. But I have come to the realization that it really doesn't matter what I say. Because there is nothing I can do to take away any of the pain and destruction I have caused. I absolutely loved my parents and had no reason to kill them. I had no reason to dislike, kill or try to kill anyone at Thurston. I am truly sorry that this has happened. I have gone back in my mind hundreds of times and changed one detail, one small event so this never would have happened. I wish I could. I take full responsibility for my actions. These events have pulled me down into a state of deterioration and self-loathing that I didn't know existed. I am very sorry for everything I have done, and for what I have become."

relatable

[secretswiftymarvelfan]

Burnin' On - Firefighter!Chris x Reader (2 am)

A/N: Okay it was no secret that I absolutely love these two and I couldn't stop writing them! So here's the extensions series! There's no real over-arching plot, just interconnected one-shots as and when I think of them! This will contain spoilers to the original series so go check that out of you haven't already

Summary: After a very long day you return home surprised to find Chris had waited for you

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: Fluff!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics​​

Meet the Characters!

Burnin' Up Masterlist / Series Masterlist / Masterlist

2 am

Your eyelids felt heavy as you finally pulled up outside the house. You let out a long sigh as you dragged your hands down your face before glancing at the time. 

It was well past 2 am.

Glancing back up at the house you could see no lights were on. You had texted Chris the code to tell him it was going to be a late one so he no doubt had gone to bed hours ago. There was nothing you wanted more than to climb into bed and snuggle up next to him, if Dodger had left you any space that is. 

Even though you were exhausted you remained sat in your car for another couple of minutes just gathering the energy to move. It had been an exhausting day, not just physically but emotionally too.

Eventually, you did manage to bring yourself to climb out of the car and head inside. You made sure you were as quiet as possible as you closed the door, took off your shoes and jacket. You didn’t want to accidentally wake Chris. 

Even though you didn’t have much of an appetite you knew you needed to have something to eat. The last proper meal you had was lunch and that was over twelve hours ago. You also knew you’d just wake up hungry again in a couple hours if you didn’t and you really wanted to sleep for hours after today.

Walking into the living room you flicked on the light only to be startled by Chris startling awake from his spot on the couch. You clutched your chest as you tried to get your breathing back under control.

“Chris what the hell? You scared the shit out of me!” You complained as your heart rate finally returned to normal.

“Sorry,” he said rubbing the sleep from his eyes “I didn’t mean to scare you, or fall asleep, I was trying to stay awake until you got home” he explained.

“Why? I texted to say I’d be home late so you didn’t need to stay up” you told him, pulling out your phone to double-check you’d actually sent the code.

“I know” Chris said pushing himself up from the couch and walking over to you “I also knew tonight was gonna be a hard night and I didn’t like the idea of you getting home and being alone” he explained placing his hands on your arms.

You instantly softened hearing his reason, stepping into his embrace, burying your head in his chest as you let out a shaky breath. Chris instantly wrapped his arm around you pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“Wanna talk about it?” He asked softly, rubbing your soothingly.

“Not yet, I think I’m still processing it all, I just wanna sleep but I should eat first” you sighed pulling away enough to look up at him.

“Okay, I saved you a plate so I’ll go warm it up, make yourself comfortable” Chris smiled softly, nodding to the couch. 

“Not too comfortable otherwise I’ll be asleep before you even get into the kitchen” you pointed out. 

Chris lets out a small snort of laughter “Okay make yourself uncomfortable” he chuckled.

You give him a tired smile as you sit down on the couch, sitting on the edge as you knew that if you sat too far back sleep would be too inviting. Thankfully it wasn’t long until Chris returned with a plateful of food for you, and a smaller plate for himself. 

The two of you sat in comfortable silence as you ate. Once you were finished you set your plate down on the coffee table and let out a long sigh.

“We found the body,” you told Chris.

You heard him let out a long sigh as he put his hand on the small of your back. He didn’t say anything though, he knew to just give you time to talk it all through.

“We still have to confirm it's her because there was a lot of decay but she was in the exact spot he said she was” You continued rubbing your hand over your forehead “I just… I feel so sorry for the families…. Both of them… one lost their daughter and the other has just found out their son isn’t who they thought he was” 

Chris let out another sigh as he shifted closer to you, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you closer into his side. He knew exactly where your mind was going, it hadn’t been that long since you found out your own father wasn’t who you thought he was.

You let out a shuddering sigh as you wiped away the stray tears that fell “Sorry” you muttered.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Chris said shaking his head “You have nothing to apologise for”

“I shouldn’t be thinking of him though” you pointed out looking up at him.

“It's okay, it’s natural and you always will it’ll just be easier to move on” Chris reassured you “And I know it sucks and it hurts but it means you understand what they’re going through and feeling and you’ll be able to provide them the correct support”

You sighed nodding your head “Yeah you’re right, thank you” you say looking up at him.

Chris gave you a soft smile “It’s nothing, now let's get you up to bed, you deserve it” he said as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“I don’t think I have the energy to stand” you admitted making Chris chuckle.

“Don’t you worry about that” he said with a lopsided smile before he stood up, hooked his arms around you and lifted you into his arms.

You let out a squeak of surprise before quickly snuggling into his arms. You smiled up at him forever grateful that you had him in your life to look after you after tough shifts, providing you a safe space that you never had before. He hadn’t even made it all the way upstairs before you fell asleep in his arms.

Sharing is caring so please reblog if you enjoyed this and maybe even leave a comment to make my day!

This series has no schedule, please don’t ask when it will be updated!

Burnin' Up Masterlist / Series Masterlist / Masterlist

I don’t have a tag list but follow @secretswiftymarvelfanlibrary​ and turn on post notifications to stay up to date!

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

hello dearest cal i offer thee some emojis and some good writing vibes!!

🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼

🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞

🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮 (omg more cranberry?? HELL FUCKING YESS!!)

- feather

Hi Feather!

Thank you so very much!

45 for 🔼:

---

As it turns out, Christopher is also having nightmares. Eddie calls her one morning, as exhausted as she is, saying he was up all night with Chris. 

“He’s waking up screaming. Really scared, Shan. Did something happen to him up there?” 

Shannon feels terrible. 

“No,” she promises. “I mean, nothing I didn’t already tell you. Maybe seeing Buck fall and get swept away?”

Shannon has been struggling with that, too. But more while she’s awake than while she’s sleeping.

“Carla thinks I should take him to see a therapist,” Eddie says. “Someone who specializes in trauma in children.” 

Shannon could vomit. “She thinks he’s traumatized? Do you think he’s traumatized?”

“I think he went through something traumatic. You all did,” Eddie says. “But, like, he can get past it, right? Because nothing too bad ended up happening.” 

“Right,” she mutters. 

“So what do you think?” 

Shannon takes a deep breath. She’s too tired to think this through clearly. At the forefront of her mind is just the feeling that her son is hurt again, and it’s because of her. Which is ridiculous. She knows it’s ridiculous. She didn’t cause this. He just happened to be with her. And thank fuck Buck was too.

“Shannon?” 

“Sorry, yeah. Uh… I mean, if you think it’s a good idea, I trust you.”

“I think it probably is, but I still feel weird,” Eddie admits. 

“Weird?” Shannon asks. “Weird how?”

“Like, if I had needed this as a kid…” 

Oh. She gets it.

“Your parents never would have gone for it,” she finishes. 

“Yeah. Dad would have said to suck it up and move forward.”

---

45 for 🪞:

---

“It just sort of happened,” Eddie admits. “While you were grocery shopping the other day? And I took her to the park. It slipped out. She thought it was funny. It’s a done deal now.”

Buck smiles affectionately. “That’s very sweet.”

Eddie shrugs again. 

“Why duckling, specifically?” Buck asks. 

“Well, I didn’t know the name of a baby dove, and the generic bird term chick felt very icky-”

“Squab,” Buck offers.

“What?” 

“The name for a baby dove. Squab,” Buck explains.

“Yeah, see, I am not calling your daughter squab,” Eddie retorts.

Your daughter. Your daughter. Your daughter. 

“I appreciate that,” Buck says. 

“My brain was stuck on birds,” Eddie continues. “And then duck rhymes with Buck, and she’s your kid, so… Duckling.”

“Duckling,” Buck repeats. Because she’s his daughter. “Alright. I like it.”

“Well, good,” Eddie says. “I was going to keep using it either way.”

Buck laughs. “I see how much power I hold.”

“Very little,” Eddie agrees. “At least I’m not telling her medical emergency horror stories involving rotisserie chicken.”

Buck groans. “That was one time!”

ii.

It keeps up like that. The general ease and happiness.��

Well, ease might be an overstatement. Adjusting to a six year-old overnight still has its challenges. Especially a six year-old who is still learning how to be a part of a family. Sometimes he forgets it’s all new to her, as well as she fits in with his life. 

Some things are easy. She’s completely over not asking for what she needs; at least not when it comes to Buck, Eddie, Carla, and Maddie and Chim, when they go there for dinners. She’s always polite and never fights him about bedtime - something Buck knows Maddie and Chim struggle with with Jee. 

---

45 for 🦮:

---

Buck laughs. A bitter and cold thing. 

“Where is all this coming from?” He repeats. “It’s so clear that you are only here for Maddie. And that’s fine. Whatever. You don’t want to know me? Fine. Your loss. You don’t give a shit that I nearly died last year? Fine. But to see so plainly that you never cared about me? From the time I was born? I don’t need to sit around and watch that and wonder why.”

There are a range of reactions to Buck’s outburst. One he could have avoided had they just let him leave. 

Eddie grabs his arm, squeezing it like he’s trying to pull Buck back from the edge. 

Margaret starts to cry.

Phillip looks at the floor.

Chim winces, like he’s watching a trainwreck. 

It’s Maddie that speaks up.

“Buck,” she shakes her head, eyes welling over. “Please don’t go there.”

“Go where, Maddie?” Buck asks, exasperated. “Everyone in the room can see it.”

“Buck,” she tries again.

But he just shakes his head at her.

“Let’s go, Eddie,” he says. 

Eddie puts his hand on Buck’s back, and leads him towards the door. His hand on Cranberry’s leash is white knuckling the paracord loop handle. His other hand is shaking. 

🦮🦮🦮

“Two dinners,” Buck says on the drive home. Eddie is in the driver’s seat. Not their usual arrangement, but necessary, tonight. “That's all it took. Two dinners, and I am twelve years-old again, trapped between my sister and my parents.”

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says, eyes flicking between the road and Buck. “That was really painful.”

“And now what?” Buck continues, hardly hearing him. “I have to plan an awkward fucking apology.”

“Whoa, wait!” Eddie’s tone sharpens. “What do you have to apologize for?”

[owlslyingdown]

remember when you lost your shit and drove the car into the garden? / don’t you understand your mind is not your friend? / you said we’re not so tied together, what did you mean? / why are we still out here? can’t we just go home? where were you back then? / can we show a little discipline? / why are you hiding from me? / is it time to leave? is it time to think about what i want to say to the girls at the door? / can i stay here? can i sleep on the floor? / is it easy to live inside yourself? / do you really think you can just put it in a safe behind a painting, lock it up and leave? / are those dreams inside your head? is there sunlight on your bed? / the day i die, where will we be? / where is her head? is she outside? is she looking out? / if i held your hand again would you be here down on your knees like this? / if i yield to my trances will i get up close again? / i ask the same questions to everyone i see - what am i missing? where have you been? what if they ask me about it? where would i begin? now, love, where have you been? did somebody break your heart again? are you gonna fall apart again? / don’t you know someday somebody will come and find you? / can you get away and talk to me? / rylan, did you break your mother’s heart? is it easy to keep so quiet? is it easy to live inside yourself? / what could i say? how close am i to losing you? hey, are you awake? can i ask you about today? / what was i even leaving for? / can’t you find a way? how’d you do it? / have you found him? have you told him everything? does he say he feels bad about all this? / am i crazy? / what if i’d never written the letter i slipped in the sleeve of the record i gave you? what if i’d stayed on the C train to Lafayette? what if we’d never met? what if i’d only just done what you told me and never looked back? why’d i leave it like that? / isn’t it a little too late for this? / have i become one of your problems? do you think you can carry me over this threshold? you won’t walk away won’t you? you don’t walk away don’t you? / darling can you tie my string? / how does it feel to feel like you? / do you care if i stayed? / could she run forever? / hey, where the hell are you? won’t you come here and stay with me? why did you listen to that man? / what does it mean when your arms fall asleep? how do you get rid of hornets? when did they say we should turn back the clocks? why do they always say everything’s for the best when everybody knows it’s not? / will someone review my salary please? / how can we keep on covering? / didn’t anybody tell you how to gracefully disappear in a room? didn’t anybody tell you this river’s full of lost sharks?

how am i supposed to know? what am i supposed to say? they say love is a virtue, don’t they? what did Harvard teach you? how can anybody know how they got to be this way? / is it weird to be back in the south? / so where did you go? and do you now know how to be happy? / is there a powder to erase this? is it dissolvable and tasteless? / you’re fireproof, how’d you get so far? / can you make me a man? / am i the one you think about when you’re sitting in your fainting chair drinking pink rabbits? / oh where are all the moments we had? where’s the brain we shared? what happened to the wavelength we were on? where’s the gravity gone? how’d i feel about it? / what was the worried thing you said to me? everything is different, why do i feel the same? is this how this whole thing’s gonna end? / can’t you write it on a wall? can you turn the TV down? / what are we going through, you and me? what is it you want me to be learning? / what makes you think i’m enjoying being led to the flood? / why won’t you leave me quicker? / when they ask, what do i see? / what am i doing watching clocks? what am i doing wandering halls? / how long have we been here? am i ever coming down? who do i think i’m kidding? / light from the stars won’t really reach anything, will it? why don’t you let me lay here and listen to the distant sirens? you don’t know how much i love you, do you? what was it you always said? is this how i lose it? everything at once, carried to space by a dolphin balloon? if i said i was sorry for always being underwater, would you stay? do you hear me? what was it, the story you told me? why am i so hard to be around? / don’t you think i look pretty anymore? / what about the glass dandelions? what about the tv screen? what about the last of the good ones? what if we moved back to new york? what about the rainbow eucalyptus? whag about the moon drop lights? what if i reinvented again? what about the mountain valley spring? what about the ornaments? / and how is the water of the rain? and how is the air of the wind? and how are the arms of your mother? / how completely high was i? / can i get a minute of not being nervous? / can’t you see that it makes it so much worse? would your life be so bad if you knew every single thought i had? / did you clean yourself for me last night? did you dress me down and liquor me up? do you feel alone when i’m in my head? do you still feel clean? how can you blame yourself? why did you dress me down?

every question by the national

[astolfofo]

deja vu, Jamis vu

BSD beast au x reader. Based on the end of the beast movie.  AUTHORS NOTE: SO. ITS FINALLY DONE. ITS 4AM I AM ON IPAD TUMBLR AND UHHHH… I tried to edit this. but. TUMBLR WAS BEING AN ASS. and the two hours I spent editing this went down the drain. Mere words could not describe the grief I felt at 3:37 in the morning. I would have screamed if I weren’t so zombieified. Then, I tried to be paitent and edit it another time, but tumblr was like: haha no. so it didn’t save. I swear it’s not my fault if you have a stroke while reading this. I sacrificed my sleep for an entire week to do write this. Please give me some credit for my suffering. /lh

Also keep in mind. I have watched the DA movie and the beast movie a whopping total of 1 time. It’s probably very off from what I was trying to communicate, cause I legit have no clue what goes on in the light novels... spare me the slander. 

Last thing, I tried something new with this one, so there’s weird ahh switches between first person and 2nd person in this. Idk how good it is, lmk if i should never do it again.

Tw: head injury, murder, blood, suicide, yeah I think that’s about it.

word count: 6.8k  

To all the Chuuya enjoyers out there, I’m sorry for being a disappointment.

Tags: @redeemingmygloryintopurgatory

I’m wet.

Im standing outside his door, knocking as it rains outside, without an umbrella, cold, and of course, drenched.

Helplessly, I knock on his door, hoping for a response from him. I know it’s pointless, by now. I should cut him out of my life by now, I should… leave him. He’s not a good person, he’s part of the Port Mafia, for the love of god… I’m scared of him. He could crush me at any moment. Hell, he breaks into my house so frequently, and even though he’s done no harm… he could kill me at any moment. So why am I here? Shouldn’t I be relieved that he hasn’t shown up at my apartment for over a month now? I… just can’t…

Lightening splits the sky in half and the sound of thunder cracks in the air.

Your fist slides down the window pane of the door. It makes a terrible sound, and you wince in pain from the sting of the friction. You should just go home. It was obvious Chuuya wasn’t even home, he never was. And if he wasn’t even home, how would he even answer the door? You regret coming here in the first place, you didn’t even know why you chose to. Was it out of worry? Was it because you had to say something to him? You couldn’t remember by now, it was all on impulse. 

Chuuya had broken into your apartment countless times. Still, no matter how many times you’d snap at him, how many times you’d emptily threaten him, or try to push him off the balcony, he still came back the next day, unphased. You couldn’t get rid of him, no matter how hard you tried. And after many days, you had learned to accept that someone could break into your home at any given moment.

And you had no knowledge of how he knew you, let alone knowledge of how he even got your house key. Or maybe he picked your lock. You couldn’t be sure and you really did not want to know. 

Every day, you’d come back home from work, and Chuuya would be sitting on your couch, drinking your wine (much to your own distaste). You’d usually give him a dirty look, and he’d glare in return but you’d say nothing. You preferred not to talk to him, and Chuuya wouldn’t raise conversations by himself. He always sat in the corner of the room, observing… scrutinizing every move you made. On the rare occasions when you had managed to start a conversation with him, it was always painfully awkward.

You once remember asking him why he was here, what he wanted from you, and his true intentions. Chuuya looked at you in an amused manner and stared out the window. 

“Why I’m doing this? You’ll find out yourself when the time is right.”

By the time you had woken up, he was always gone. As if he was never there in the first place. The only thing he’d leave was the wine glass he’d drink out of, and your clothes you had hauled back from the laundromat messily folded, in your drawer. Occasionally, when it warm out, he’d leave the window open. They were small actions. Meant to be noticed, but not returned.

The splashing of rain intensifies, as you stand on Chuuya’s porch. He’s not home. You can’t stand here forever. You have to get back home before it’s too late.

What a great way to spend my time off work.

But you wanted to try one last thing before you left. Maybe his door was unlocked the entire time. Although you would doubt it, it was worth a try. It was so stupid to do this, all of it was. But your curiosity is getting the best of you, and you desperately wanted answers. Answers only Chuuya could give.

So, you grip the door handle and twist the doorknob. Much to your shock, the mechanics of the door click, and the door opens.

Chuuya had left the door unlocked. He forgot to lock his own door. You take a step up, and stand in the doorway. The rain is still hitting your back, and you groan realizing that you’re dripping water onto the floor. Quickly, you step in and shut the door. You twist the lock, ensuring that no one else would come in.

You sure hope Chuuya wasn’t going to come home tonight. The thought of it made the hair on your neck stand slightly. 

You take off your shoes which are drenched in water and stare in the mirror. You’re soaked to the bone. Your clothes are completely see-through. You’d need to change them. That could wait, though. If the rain stopped, you’d go home as soon as possible.

Okay. Quick in and out it is. I need to find my spare key, and I need to find what happened to him after the explosion in the sky that day. The one that happened on the top of the… port mafia building. You shudder. I wonder what happened. It was so bright that it looked as if the sky exploded for a second. The next thing you know, everything is back to normal… except it isn’t. A dead body is found at the bottom of the building.

Followed by that, I never saw Chuuya again, but many people that were close to me have been avoiding me. When asked why, they avoided my question. There isn’t a strong connection there, but I think… that all of these events are connected somehow. Chuuya never appears again, and the fact he works for the Port Mafia, definetly does not help. 

Additionally, the Armed Dective Agency sent me a letter to be wary of Chuuya. With no additional information. There’s something going on here. Something is wrong. Something terribily wrong.

And I’m scared.

Apprehensively, you take several steps inside the house. You keep getting the feeling that you may get caught. But you don’t hear anything at the door. It’s a painful paranoia.

You inhale and exhale.

I’ll start looking for hints first. I don’t need an answer right away. One hint will be able to give me lots. I’ll start from his room, that’s where people are most likely to hide things.

You walk as quickly as possible across the empty corridor in the house. His house is eerily empty. There isn’t much in it, just a lot of furniture, a shelf of wine, messy papers and a few books placed sparsely across the rooms.

You walk up the stairs, which slightly creaks under your weight. You try your best to ignore any noises and try to stay focused. As you reach the top of the stairs, you see his bedroom, which is the first room at the end of the staircase.

You walk towards the room, you open the door and look around. Chuuya’s room is surprisingly fuller than the rest of the house. There is a dresser, with several items stacked on top of it. It has drawers, which you assume were full. His closet was also filled with clothes, with various hats on the shelf above in his closet.

Chuuya’s bed was neatly made, giving the impression that he had not been home in weeks. Unoccupied, cold, and abandoned. Yet you felt a temptation to lie in it either way. Your eyes dart to the dresser again, and you look at the various items spread out on it. None of these are of much use to you. Besides the gun that seemed unused.

Your hands move to the drawers and you begin to search them. In the first one, there was nothing. Just a bunch of stationery, and papers, some of which had blood on them. You shudder in disgust and move on.

You struggled to pull the second drawer. After a moment, it slides open and you look at the inside contents. You stare at it, wondering if you open it. There is no address on it, and it isn’t sealed. 

You have a bad feeling about this, but your hands move faster than your brain. You pull out the piece of paper and read its contents.

The letter is addressed to you. It doesn’t include much. Just A single sentence that holds an address. 

And then it hits you.

Chuuya had been planning this for a long time. He had purposely left the door unlocked, left his house empty, and left you because he knew you would try to find him one day.

It infuriates you more than you expect. But you can’t stop here. You’ll go to a specific location. 

Just to be sure, you look in the third drawer, you see your spare key, as well as a lock cutter. 

Its dark now. It’s still pouring. You have no choice to stay here for tonight. Begrudgingly, you curse yourself for dragging yourself into this. Still, you were in too deep to back out now. Whatever happens, will happen.

-

You wake up. 

You're lying on Chuuya's bed, in his clothes, begrudgingly. Your own clothes are discarded onto the floor, dried during the time you had been asleep. Still, you don't exactly feel like changing into them. It felt too gross to wear them. 

You shake your head. Now's not the time to be thinking about that. You sit up, and stretch your arms. Then, you walk towards the desk again, and look at the address. You take note of the address, and take your spare key. Before you go, you flip over the paper, ensuring that you didn't miss anything. There's another sentence scribbled on the top of the paper.

I know you're reading this. You want to know why I'm gone, and why I did this. The address that is provided will help you, but it will not give you the answer, nor will I be there. 

…What? 

You read the sentence over and over again. The words sink in, making you feel conflicted. You knew you were getting yourself into a certain kind of danger by doing this, but you didn't expect it to be this risky. Hell, you didn't even know where the man was now, and not to mention… the location…

You look at the location again.

It's on the street where the explosion happened. And you're no fool. If it was on that street, it meant it was that building. There were no other possibilities. You doubt it would be any other one of those tall skyscrapers, anyways. The one where the explosion happened was the only building Chuuya had any affiliations with.

Which was going to be incredibly difficult to get into. Let alone, to the top floor. You'd be dead even trying to set foot into the door. It wasn't worth your life for this. You should forget about it and go back home.

You look through the paper again, hoping there might be something more to help you. Sighing, you came back with nothing. I suppose I really have to go through with this, don't I? There's no turning back. 

-

The walk to the Port Mafia's building was rather short, if you were being completely honest. It was located in the heart of Yokohama, and was one of the tallest buildings there, if that told you anything. 

You stand outside the building, as the apprehension and fear build up inside you. You had never felt as much of a need to run from anything, as much as you did now. The doors, despite their grandeur size, and large glass design, looked uninviting. Almost like doors to a bank vault; the kind of doors that told you, you wouldn't be able to get out, as soon as you stepped in. And from various things people has told you throughout the years, the Port Mafia keeps people it's had come into contact with. It's more powerful beyond belief. 

It doesn't need to control you. You'll be forced into being pliant for them, simply by fear. No one can betray them. Death is almost a guarantee if you do.

And recently, they had also become violent as well. You might as well be walking yourself into a death wish.

But your feet remained rooted into the ground, and part of you remains determined to see this through. So you take a deep breath and walk into the building. 

You try to remain calm as you push through the doors, into the lobby. You pray Hou won't be swatted with bullets as soon as you enter, but much to your own surprise, there's no one in the lobby. It's completely empty.

It doesn't feel right. You wonder if what happened. Well, it's not your business anyways. You couldn't care less. You just needed to find whoever Chuuya's office is and-

"Who are you?"

shit. you curse under your breath. "I-I'm," you turn around to face the person talking g to you. As soon as you do this, the man's eyes widen, and you acknowledge away slightly. "Sorry… um… do you know where Chuuya is?"

You had never felt so idiotic and out of place in your life. You can physically feel your heart pounding inside your chest, as you pray you don't look too suspicious. You can't mess up here. Though the man you are currently talking to isn't holding any firearm. That may just as well mean he has even worse methods to kill you off.

"He's not here."

of course, he isn't. You think to yourself. He wrote that in his own letter, or whatever you call it. 

"He's been arrested." The man looks you directly into your eyes, and as on instinct, you look down, too scared to actually look at him. A few moments pass in silence.

"Can you… perhaps tell me why?"

"After the previous Port Mafia executive committed suicide, Chuuya was forced to lead the Port Mafia. He hated the job greatly, and he eventually…" He stops himself.

"Go on." You mutter.

The man tilts his head and looks at you again. "Are you sure? If you want to see him… it's better just to see for yourself." He stops for a second. 

"No… please tell me. Tell me everything that you possibly can."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Fine then. If you insist."

"Chuuya lost his control over himself. He slowly became more, deranged, if you will, as time went on. After the old executive killed himself, Chuuya had no one left. Or at least, that's what we saw. His orders became more and more irrational, often just resorting to killing everything, and slowly, he eventually broke. He went on a rampage, as you've probably seen, Yokohama is not safe with him around. He almost destroyed Yokohama in its entirety, and it took serveral organizations to stop him. I don't know the exact details after that. He remains locked up underground."

You feel as if you had been doused under cold water. You didn't only have your question answered, but that also explained several other things as well. You try to recollect your thoughts while figuring out what to do next.

"By the way, you look familiar."

"How so?"

"I don't know, to he honest. You look like someone who used to work here. Maybe my mind js tricking me, though. You look too weak to be here."

"Yeah," you force out an awkward laugh, "I could never work here for the life of me."

"Figures."

another awkward pause, as you stare at the man.

"I assume you need Chuuya's location, don't you?"

You nod.

"Here." He hands you a piece of paper, with an address messily scrawled onto it. "Although, I don't recommend going to see him, tell the guards you are a relative of his. Hopefully, it will convince them enough to let you in. Though, if you want, I'm sure you can attempt to knock the guards out. Chuuya's well… very restrained so he won't hurt you."

"Ah… thank you."

"Don't mention it."

You bow and leave.

"Hey wait-" the man calls out, his voice echoing through the empty lobby. He seems hesitant to ask something. You stop and turn around. "Yeah?"

He looks down, and awkwardly avoids eye contact for a second. It's at this moment you realize he's a man with short, white, hair, as well thick bangs that were cut into a slant. He’s rather short, and he’s wearing a long jacket.

He looks… familiar. I wonder why.

“What’s your name?” 

You stare at him for another moment before answering. “It’s Y/N.”

You could have sworn you had seen a face of surprise from him for a second, but it could have been your imagination because the next instant you blink, it’s gone. “I see,” he says slowly. “Be careful then. He’s not the same as what you may remember.”

As… I remember? What….

“Nevermind. Forget I said anything. Just go to the address, and everything will make sense.”

“Hey wait-”

He’s already turned his back and left on you. You’re left with so many more questions than you started off with, and dread creeps up you again. There was a warning tone in his voice, almost as if telling you to do this was a terrible idea. That you were going to be landing yourself in scalding hot water, and you wouldn’t be able to get out. You knew the risks from the start, but…

You quickly unfold the paper, and look for the address. Once again, the address is written in the center of the paper. You carefully look around for any other writing on the paper.

It’s completely white. Blank. Except for one sentence on the bottom: It’s never too late to back out. 

And you stare at it, and think about the several cryptic warnings you received from this man. So… you’re telling me, that after that explosion happened in the sky… a dead body, the previous executive was found. Then shortly after that, Chuuya became the executive of the Mafia. He hated it. But he had no choice and was left alone to do it. Eventually, he lost his sanity and mind and the Mafia… I guess? Because very corrupt, violent, and unsafe. It took many people to stop him, and how he was arrested in an underground cell. At this address.

It’s clear he’s cutting something out. He said to be careful. Of course, if Chuuya has lost his mind, I need to do that. But he empathized that I should be wary of him. Also, he said I looked familiar, and he also looks familiar to me. He mentioned something about… me remembering? Have I known Chuuya for longer? 

But he also said that only Chuuya has the answers to all my questions. So that means in other words, he knows what happened during the explosion, he knows that Chuuya has been breaking into my apartment and he knows more about my entire predicament now, than I do.

Just… who exactly is he? How and why?

You cut yourself off from those thoughts. 

Ugh. this is ending up being so much more complicated than it was supposed to be. You thought in bitterness. So basically, I’ll go to the address, and get the answers to my questions. Sounds simple enough. There’s no need to overthink this. Maybe i’m just being paranoid. What’s the worst that could happen?

Well, a lot. But I’ll just ignore that for now.

You turn around and walk towards the door again. To be honest, you don’t want to know what might happen once you see him. You were already nervous from the implications the man had told you moments ago, and you were coming to realize there were some things that you noticed when you were in Chuuya’s house. Things that you maybe weren’t supposed to know about or see.

In the bottom of the drawer… there were documents. Documentation of everything that happened on the day of the explosion. A bright light illumined the sky, followed by the dead body found; the previous port mafia’s executive; Dazai Osamu. The two closest people to the explosion were a member of the port mafia, Atsushi Nakajima, and a member in the training of the Armed Detective Agency, Ryounouske Akuwatagawa. They are believed to be the cause of the explosion.

No one knows the exact events inside the Port Mafia on that day, except for the individuals involved in the actions that happened. According to the Armed Detective Agency, Akuwtagawa had barged into the Port Mafia to challenge the Port Mafia Executive. He accordingly, fought many individuals in the Port Mafia, a body count is yet to be determined. Data from thereon forth is unknown until the individuals reach the top of the building, where the most notorious event stated above occurred.

Additionally, after thorough examination of the body of the previous Port Mafia Excuetive, it can be concluded that he had committed suicide by jumping off the building. 

The document ends there, and the paper is ripped in half.

-

It felt like every meter you travelled towards that location was walking towards a terrible, yet inevitable fate. The drive there, dragged on and on as if mocking you for your choices. You find yourself counting down the seconds until you can arrive at the location given.

Oh, how you wished you had stayed at home instead of seeking him out. If only your morbid curiosity hadn’t gotten the best of you.

You’ve lost track of the time you’ve spent on the train, only waiting for the loudspeaker to announce your stop. The location you figure you were given led you to a rather remote area, likely in the outskirts of Yokohama. If not further. The man had told you he was locked underground, completely isolated from everything.

You found that part the most unsettling. If they needed that many security measures to keep him in place, it was likely he was completely gone. Gone beyond saving. If he had succumbed that much to his own grief and madness, it would be a question of whether he would still remember you or not. 

You look out the window again, enjoying your last moments of peace.

This is the eerie calm before the storm, isn’t it?

Moments after you think that, the train halts to a stop at the last station in Yokohama, and you get off. Your heart is pounding wildly in your chest, and you’re not sure if you can stop it.

You try your best to remain calm. Force yourself to keep going. He’s special to you. You can’t lose him, even if you hate him. You need him. He’s the only one who still cares. 

And above all, he’s the only one who remembers you at all.

And so, you go. You take all the correct turns. You try to walk as quickly as you could, to arrive at the destination. You keep going, and going and going until…

You’re here.

It’s one of the better buildings on the outskirts of the city, yet… it looks incredibly unsettling. It’s a mundane building, one made from standard concrete, and glass. Yet. As you stand so close, you see cracks in the building. The door is partially cracked as well. 

Well, I’m here already. Whatever happens, happens. I may die in there, still, before I die, I have to know the answer. The answer… why can’t I remember? Chuuya. I want him to tell me, what he did to me. Why he came to my apartment every day. Why he’s… he’s…..

Oh. My hands are shaking. Surely I cannot be this terrified can I? I will do this even if it kills me.

You pull the door open and enter the building. The piece of paper told you that it was on the lowest floor. Your footsteps echo in the empty building, and it feels creepy no one is here.

Huh. Gives some Deja Vu, doesn’t it?

You proceed towards the elevator at the end of the hall, and press the down button. Almost instantly, the elevator makes a “ding” noise, and the doors open. You quickly step in and look for the lowest button. With a deep breath, you push the button, and the door closes.

You stare at your face in the mirror. You look terrible. Pale and your hair is completely dishevelled and a mess. If you didn’t know any better, you’d look like you were sick. You had been extremely anxious about this for an entire day, after all.

The elevator doors once again slide open. 

Here goes nothing. You sigh. I’d better hear you talking today, Chuuya. You have a lot to tell me. And you’d better tell me it all.

You step outside the elevator. There’s nothing. Absolutely nothing, and no one here. The halls are empty, and the strong scent of stale air, combined with dust fills your nostrils. You feel like coughing for a second, but you hold yourself back. You didn’t want to make any noise to give away your presence. You take another step.

Despite what the man said, it was clear that there was no one else there. No prison guards, no other cells inside. It was clearly a floor made, simply to detain one individual in particular. Isolated, and secure enough that they’d never be able to escape. Deep enough underground that they’d never even know where they were.

Your footsteps tap loudly against the concrete and echo everywhere around. As you walk down the hall, the lightbulbs behind you light up. The man had told you it was in the deepest part of the prison. However, what he didn’t account for, was that you had no idea how this floor was organized. 

Not to mention it was starting to get creepy really quickly. Although there should be nothing else in here, you were starting to get the sense that there was something dangerous that might lurk in the air. You tell yourself it’s probably just the dark and your own fatigue and you were imagining things.

The emptiness of the entire building creeps you out. It’s eerie. It feels like you were lead into the wrong location, and you were walking into a dead end. It almost felt almost like a trap that you had been lured into. And every second, the floor grew significantly more eerie. The lack of any presence and the darkness despite the very few lightbulbs attached to the ceiling enhanced that. 

I should be getting close now… right?

You were. You could see a light at the end of this hallway, which was illuminated with an orange light. It must have been where Chuuya’s cell was. There was no other place as illuminated as this, and there was no reason for it to be.

You had gotten this far. There was no reason you should be stopping now. Should you? The answer… you had always looked for, you could get it now.

Chuuya always hid something from me. He has never answered once, one of my questions. He’s never told me why he comes to my house every day, he never told me once why he was gone. For as long as I remember, I’ve been coming back from my job, and seeing him there. But one day, he disappeared. No reason why, no reason of how. He just did.

But apart from my job, there’s another piece missing to this puzzle. There’s something else that I’ve always wanted to ask him besides why he’s gone missing, and the explosion which I already had the answer to. He knows me, better than I know myself.

What was I before all of this happened?

I know there’s something before all of this. It just doesn’t add up. The man I saw in the mafia looked familiar. The building itself was in a place that I had felt I had been in at some time before. There’s deja vu there.

But when I first walked into the apartment, the first day before I saw Chuuya, I had jamais vu. A familiar place, that I didn’t know. And consequently, I couldn’t remember much before that. So what-

“I know you’re there, (Y/N). You’ve been standing there for quite some time.”

Shit.

Your thoughts are cut off by that voice you instantly knew. Chuuya was indeed, there. But his voice didn’t sound the same as you remember. There wasn’t any of the snarkiness, or egotistical attitude in his voice anymore. Instead, his voice was laced with aggression, and a malice that made you hesitant to even come forward.

You open your jaw to speak, but almost if Chuuya knew, he spoke before you. “I know what you’re thinking. You want to know why I left you, don’t you? I assume that someone has already told you about what happened on the day I stopped seeing you, and I’m sure you know all about the aftermath of that.”

You feel like you are doused in cold water. How did he know? Did he plan all of this. You want to open your mouth and tell him to slow down, but he continues, anyways.

“And you’ve been having deja vu for several days, too. You feel like you know the Port Mafia building, you feel like you recognize everything you saw, including my home.” Silence, as he pauses for a second. “So why don’t you… come and face me, and I’ll tell you what actually happened?”

“Chuuya-”

You hear no response. You sigh and walk towards his cell. You’re not ready to hear this, and you’re not sure you can face him.

He’s different. He’s not the same anymore. He sounds more violent, his composture is much less controlled than it was before. What…what happened to him?

And then you approach his cell. He’s got cuts everywhere, specifically the gash on his face. You instantly feel the need to run away, to get this image out of your mind. He was thin, his face was significantly more gaunt than it had been the last time you had seen him. And the most unsettling thing was how he was kept. Both arms were harshly chained to the ceiling and the wall. The chains were wrapped around his arms several times (you would assume most likely to stop him from breaking free), and they cut deeply into his arm. Then his body was also tightly bound to a chair, and his legs were bound to the chair’s legs. His body you noticed, was bound so tightly to the chair, you wonder how he still managed to breathe. Still, nothing would be as unnerving as to look at as his eyes. They were not dull per say, but they were empty. Not in the hopeless kind of way, but in the tormented sense that he had been tortured so badly that it would be unlikely he ever saw the light of day again.

Truly, he was a lost cause. You could only describe him as tortured and traumatized, as you couldn’t glance at him a second time.

“Hey. You done oogling yet?” His voice came out as almost an aggressive snarl, and you instantly look away. “Look at me.” You do your best to look at him, while trying to avoid looking at any part of his face in particular. You didn’t want to see it. Truly, you don’t want to look at him in any way whatsoever. So you settle on looking at a corner of his hair. The only thing that was still familiar to you.

“I said look at me. In the eyes.”

You don’t want to.

Chuuya sighs. “I know I probably look terrible right now, but please. Just do it. For the sake of me. Just look me in the eyes. It’ll probably be the last time I see someone for a long time.” He draws that last sentence out for longer than you expect, and you start to feel uneasy again, but you try to ignore that and ask him the question. The question you had been dying to ask for an undefined amount of time.

It’s a second before you can really bring yourself to ask it. “Chuuya. Where are my memories?” your mouth tightens… “Who am I? Why did you… do this?” You take a deep breath, to stop yourself. “Just tell me. Please.”

There’s another stretched-out pause before Chuuya responds again. “I knocked you out.”

“You… you what? N-no… you’re kidding right?” Your voice wavers slightly, before seeing Chuuya’s face again. He’s dead serious. “Why would you do this?”

“You were in danger. I couldn’t help it, alright?” He yelled, and you flinch. He takes a deep breath in again, slightly more calm, and continues. “Let me explain.”

“You were part of the Port Mafia, (Y/N). In fact, you, me, and Dazai used to be assigned to the same team all the time. Of course, it was always despicable working with Dazai. He never told us about anything, instead only telling us what to do, while he schemed about whatever he damn chose.”

“You can’t be serious…”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Do you think I’m joking right now? That I’m making a story and pulling it out of thin air for fun? You wanted answers. I’m giving them to you right now.”

“Right. Sorry.”

Chuuya ignores you and goes on. “Out of the three of us, you were always the weakest one, without a strong ability, nor any supportive abilities, however, we always had to drag you along anyways. To every mission gaven to us. Dazai would always make a plan, and we’d have to follow through. And if any of us ever messed up, we’d always get into trouble.”

“I bet you wanted to know how you got that bruise on your arm, that’s never healed, huh? Well, it’s cause you messed up one of the missions, and one of the higher-ups broke your arm. It never completely healed, and it was a warning that you should never mess up again.”

You look at your arm, where the ugly purple bruise marred your skin. It had never healed, and you couldn’t do anything heavy with it. Although it made a lot more sense than the reasoning you were told, you found this all too unreal. There was no way you were a mafia member. You were always weak. There would have been no reason for you to join. But even past the static buzzing in your brain, you could make out everything he said feeling familiar. As if your memories were just behind a wall you couldn’t break through.

“Still, I wasn’t able to do anything at the time, and Dazai didn’t care too much for you. The damned bastard treated everything and everyone like a chess piece, and played them as he wished. You were constantly treated as the runt of the three of us, and often used as the punching bag when missions weren’t successful. But, over time, you managed to become more ‘competent’ and not ‘drag us back’.”

“Of course, that all was, until the Dragon Head incident. All you need to know was that it was a bloody fight, and most of us were sent to deal with it.”

“As always, we were sent to deal with the mess. Dazai and I were obviously vanguards during the entire ordeal, and you were backup. When we had found the person behind it all, I used my own ability to kill him. We had won, but just barely.”

“You had managed to find the location of the man first, but you didn’t notify us. This person later told us that you actually refused to tell us. Ultimately, you botched Dazai’s plan, and almost destroyed an entire city, because you didn’t follow his instructions. Of course, Dazai was disappointed, even if he didn’t say anything. He essentially dismissed you, and planned to go back, and remove you from the Port Mafia. But, I didn’t want that.”

“So after a very long fight with Dazai, I managed to make a compromise with him. You would not be killed for betraying the Port Mafia, however, you wouldn’t be allowed to go back. But if I told you this, you would have rather accepted death, since the Port Mafia is the only thing you have ever known. You couldn’t go into the real world since you have no identity there.”

“So later that night, while you had looked like you were at least, partially asleep. I had no choice… but to give you severe head trauma, which would make you lose all your memories.”

There’s an unspoken silence between the two of you. You had always been told that your head was fragile. When you tried to think about your childhood or teenage years, your head would fill with static and it would hurt. Never had you ever expected it to be… this…

“You must be shocked. You probably think I’m not being serious, or that I’m joking. Well, I’m not done yet.”

“You were in a coma for years after that. For about two or three years, if I remember correctly. I had to make sure that you wouldn’t remember anything, so I bashed your head, pretty hard against the concrete. I brought you to the hospital after that, and told them that you had been injured badly, because you had attempted suicide. A balatant lie, but I couldn’t tell the doctors any more than that, otherwise I would have been detained.”

“For several years, you stayed in the hospital, completely unconscious. I’d visit you everyday, and see if you would wake up. At one point I had considered just giving up. But eventually, you did wake up. But, you didn’t have an identity in the real world, let alone education, or anything that would let you survive. When you were discharged, I paid a company to forge you a fake identity, which is what you live by now.”

“I’ve watched over you for so long, (Y/N). You once asked me what you needed to be protected from. I didn’t answer that question because I didn’t think it was the right time to let you know the truth. Alas, you’ve come searching for the truth yourself. The Port Mafia was after you for a long time. I had to constantly monitor you, you were constantly on my mind every day. And even when you were discharged from the hospital, I still had to watch over you while you slept. They wanted to kill you. I didn’t want you dead, in fact how could I?” Chuuya laughs in bitterness. “I loved you for a long time. I did all of this to make sure I’d be able to see you happy, for once. And you were. You moved into society rather nicely. You were simply not meant to be part of the Mafia, despite the potential in your ability.”

“You have the gun I left on my desk, didn’t you? You knew you had to take it because you might have been in danger.”

“Chuuya… stop.” You’re still in shock, but you know you’ll never properly remember any of your memories now. You can only trust him. Whatever he says, you have to believe. He’s not lying. He never was lying.

“That was Dazai’s gun. The gun he left before he killed himself.”

“No… please. Stop. Chuuya. Don’t do this please…”

He chuckles. “I have no merit in my future, I am simply left to rot and die here. You wouldn’t understand, (Y/N). I spent so much time in my life for you, that it would have been simpler to just kill you. But I can’t do that.”

“But in a life where you don’t return any of that to me isn’t worth living either…”

“CHUUYA,” you scream. “Stop this. Don’t…”

“So shoot me please. I know you’re dying to do it. You brought the gun with you, you wanted to kill me. I know you do. Why? You’ve reached into your pockets serveral times while I was telling your past. My life is hopeless, completely doomed. I’ve lost everything I once had, except for you. And I can’t even see you now.”

“So kill me. Put me out of my own misery.”

He smiles, in a twisted sort of way, expecting you to shoot.

“You won’t regret it.”

And it’s true. You were planning on killing him, but you don’t want to now. But if what he said was true, you were also ruthless as he was. You had to make a choice, quickly.

Your hands move faster than your mind, and you can’t stop yourself.

You shoot once. Once at his chest.

You can’t bear to see what you did.

But you also can’t see control what you were going to do next. You hear another gunshot being fired, and you weren’t if it was from yourself, or maybe someone else in the floor.

Your vision stops and you feel yourself falling to the ground.

[stuff-i-found-while-crying]

A stage of fire and dreams

inspired by @gwandas and they post: modern Neris AU where Eris is a trust fund asshole at Harvard Law, Nesta is a professional ballerina with the Boston Ballet

anyway... the idea stuck with me and now im making it your Problem... this could be the first part of many. (or it will be another story idea that never learns to walk)

Also! English is my second language and I might accidentally mess it up.... just believe that my writing would be better in German and we can be friends

WITHOUT FURTHER ADO! PLEASE ENJOY THE SHOW

main role: Eris (xNesta)

also appearing: his mother, his younger brother, Odette/Nesta

Chapter one - Giselle

Eris hated the Ballet.

He hated it so much, that he bought front row tickets. At least that way his critism would be honest. Brutal, maybe a bit irrational, but also honest. And no one could argue with that.

"This will be a wonderful performance", his mother said next to him. "I heard the new ballerina is quite unique. Nesta Archeron. Don´t you think it will be wonderful?"

He hummed in agreement. For her Ballet was beauty. Stories told in movement and rhythm. She could gosh about the grace of dancers for hours.

Once Eris had done the same.

His father hadn`t liked it. And what his father didn`t like he would not tolerate.

"At least it will not be as sappy as the last one", his brother Cyrus said, leaning over his mother to wink at Eris.. He had the same red hair as Eris and their mother. A trate she had given all her children. But Cyrus wore it long, while Eris at least tried to keep his curls tidy.

"Hush you", his mother swatted at her son. "Sleeping beauty is one of the most perfect, romantic,…"

"flowery", Eris added.

Cyrus laughed.

His mother did not. She just looked at him. "When have you become so cynical?"

When indeed?

Eris grinned at her and leaned closer. "I´m sorry. I am sure Giselle will be more interesting."

The spark of excitement returned to his mother. "It will. She turns mad at the end and dies. So tragic."

Cyrus raised his eyebrows. He never read the stories before.

Eris did. He read them all. And he memoriesed them to see if the dancers did them justice.

They never did.

Before his brother could ask another silly question, the lights dimmed.

And Eris leaned back to pass Judgment.

That was until she appeared.

Giselle.

His mother was right. Ballet was beautiful.

She held her gaze steady. Her grey eyes piercing the entire audience at once. One heart beat the world stopped turning. Then it started again.

His heart beat in the rhythms of her Pirouttes. He forgot who he was and why he was here.

All that matteres was Giselle. And her small body that danced passionatly the story of love.

A love so powerful that it would turn her mad.

His Giselle should not turn mad. He wanted to safe her.

But how could he safe her? He had to also keep watching her dancing. And both at the same time seemed impossible.

Then she was gone. Someone else had a Solo and Eris fell back into reality.

"She is extraordinary", his mother whispered next to him.

He just shrugged. "A bit small."

But his mother knew him better. Eris hated that. Nothing could get passed her.

"I need the Loo", Cyrus whispered.

Luckily for him there was a break. And while his brother ran to the restrooms, Eris took his mother to the bar.

"I think i would like to meet her", she said.

Eris nodded to one of the employees who stood near by. The man nodded back and dissapeared threw a door. Arrangenments would be made. His mother would meet his Giselle and he would pretend to be bored.

He shook his head.

Not his Giselle. The Giselle. The dancer. The small tiny woman with the grey eyes.

"Maybe he needs a drink", Cyrus said way to close to his ear.

Eris shuffed his brother off. "What the hell."

His brother laughed.

"You do look a bit out of it", his mothers brown eyes scanned him. "Are you feeling well?"

"I´m fine", he said. Normally he would smile for her. He always tried. But his Giselle had messed up his head and he was still trying to gather back his thoughts.

Her tiny frame spinning on stage. The way she fell into the arms of her partner. He was certain that at one point she had looked directly at him. She had to!

"It´s like he can´t hear us."

"Oh dear, we should go back to our seats", his mother grapped his right arm. "Seond half is surelly as beautiful as the first one." 

His brother threw back his drink. "The things I do for you, mother."

Eris threw him a look. It was worse than the drink for his brother started coughing. They had agreed, although more in silence than in words, to not say anything to upset mother.

No. They would make her happy again. Truly radient and joyful, as she used to be.

That was the only reason Eris let his mother guide him back to his seat.

The second half would start. And His Giselle would turn mad.

He was still contemplating how he could safe her. In real life he would never let her become so mad. He would never let her alone.

The lights dimed. And for a while Eris forgot how much he hated ballet.

Because Giselle was dancing right in front of him. What would he give to hold her in his arms. This late in the story the dancer had let her hair fall loose. Honey blond curls fell down her back. It was made to run his fingers threw it.

If he ever found his Giselle, he would never let her go. He would guide her threw her dance for eternity.

But Giselle died.

Her grey eyes found his for a moment and he almost jumped on stage. Anything to get that sad look out of her eyes. But he was just a man. And she was perfection.

With a soft sigh she dropped to the ground.

His mother cried next to him. She silently gave him a tissue, too. He discreatly whiped his eyes. 

Something in his chest was moved. During the performance she had touhed a part of him, that Eris had thought dead. Ironically her death had awakened him.

What was he even doing with his life?

He had to find his Giselle.

And luckily his mother hat already requested a meet up with the dancer.

Part 2 here

[secretlythepits]

Teens Suck and So Do Husbands

My 16 year old and I got into it this morning and I don’t feel great about it.

Last night, I told him to take the garbage out. He refused. It’s full and he is going to be gone all day. We had had a talk about Dad being sick and him needing to just do things around the house without making me ask a million times.

This morning I woke up unable to breathe. Pertussis is no joke. Mostly we focus on my husband, and I have largely gotten better, but this was a scary and uncomfortable moment. I get up 15 minutes before we leave for school and 16 year old is scrolling on his phone over breakfast. The garbage is still not out.

His brother is sleeping. I hurry to wake him up. I bought an alarm clock a few weeks ago and 16 year old threw a fit and returned it. How dare I buy an alarm clock for their room! I was sick and my husband went along with it, so his brother not being awake is his responsibility. I wake him up and he has to hustle.

I snatch 16 year old’s phone and tell him he needs to take the garbage out, finish his breakfast, and get dressed. All hell breaks loose. He wants his phone back first. He is a Taurus and will argue forever. I have in my mind that I won’t give in or allow him to bait me into an argument. This is hard for me because I am a Scorpio and an arguer and my son does. not. stop.

I do things like go outside and he follows. At one point he does take out the trash (doesn’t put a new bag in) but then demands his phone. The clock is ticking. Eat your breakfast. Get dressed. We are leaving at the correct time with or without you. For the last week he makes us wait an extra 5 minutes. It’s annoying to me. They get there early, but there is breakfast and for traffic and my own time concerns, I want to leave at the designated time. But what can I do if he’s not in the car?

Today I make it very clear: I will leave without you. He makes no move to get ready. I take brother to school.

When I get home, he is wearing his uniform, demanding his phone and a ride. I tell him no, that he needs to get himself to school and the phone is not happening. He will not listen. He is fixated. He hurls insults.

I go to my writing cottage to escape. He keeps grabbing the door. Eventually, he forces it and hurts my hand. Says he hope it hurts. I lock the door.

A minute later I hear banging on the door. It is my husband telling me our son needs his phone. I say no. He angrily drives son to school. We haven’t spoken. He went back to bed. I told son he will walk home. It is going to be awful tonight.

My husband doesn’t back up my parenting. He has always left all of it to me, but occasionally will jump in angry and he also undercuts me because he is conflict-avoidant at all costs. To me, if a coparent has issued a punishment, I feel obligated to back them up as the default. If I disagree, that will be a private conversation. That’s what I think good parenting involves. But my husband never does this. He just wants anger to stop and sees me as the obstacle to that before ever evaluating the situation. Also, I buck at the idea that he gets to come in and judge the situation. He is not my manager.

If the roles were reversed, I would have told my son to start walking to school or at least been very angry with him. I would have said, I’m sure your dad took your phone for a good reason.

I am exceedingly resentful that I have this problem because it will be conflict with both my husband and my son later in the day.

I know my son is stubborn. It’s his nature and it always will be. What I don’t understand is why he doesn’t have a switch that clicks on when he has gone too far. That’s why I held my ground. Mom taking the phone should be a wake up call, but he sees it as a violation of his sovereignty and wants to fight to the death rather than do the simple steps to getting it back: take out the garbage, eat, get dressed. He is bigger than me. I have very little leverage. I try to get his cooperation, but he is exceedingly self-centered these days.

This is the point where I am usually interrupted and someone says how traumatic it must be for him to have a dad with cancer. Here’s the truth: I know my son very well. Nobody knows him better than me. He is not thinking about his dad much at all. Right now, it is all about him and his budding life. He sees his dad’s cancer as an inconvenience to him and he resents it. He has said awful things and bailed when we needed help— and very little help has been needed. I know that he sometimes thinks about it, but his mind is mostly consumed with his social life. I know him and I know this is true.

My husband and I had a fight yesterday.

I had driven the boys to school, gone on a walk, arranged for the refrigerator repair, done an hour of yard work the boys had failed to do, got my younger son from school (with 2 random, complicated traffic jams), spoken to the repair guy, come in and started to make my husband breakfast. The refrigerator is in the garage and the counters were full of jars that didn’t fit into the second one, so every little thing was 4 extra steps. Then nobody replaced the butter, my son had used the last of the coffee, so it was extra trips to the garage and extra steps to take. My phone’s alarm went off. It was a snooze from the alert to pick my son up from school. My husband informs me that my phone is ringing, like I couldn’t hear it. It’s 10 am. I have not eaten anything myself. I snap that my hands are full and I’m a little busy.

All hell breaks lose. F-u and he actually calls me a b-witch. I know that this is because he wants me to be sweet and not show any signs that this is a burden. He wants service with a smile, but I don’t always have a smile. I am overwhelmed and emotionally expressive. It feels grossly unfair to me to be criticized for not concealing this, especially in light of the lack of gratitude ever expressed towards me. It’s funny, when I am caregiving I never think, he should be grateful. But when I am criticized, I instantly flash to the fact that I’ve done so much and never get a thank you, let alone praise. We also have the history of him watching me flail for 3 1/2 years with a brain infection while he did nothing for me. So service with a smile at all times is a hard no from me.

In other moments I flash to how hard this is for him. He has so much to learn and process that I already did. Helplessness. Having to sit quietly while people do things their way, when you are used to it being done your way. Having bits of your life just taken from you by disease. Mortality knocking. Disappointment in your beloveds. Loneliness in the face of something so daunting. The absolute limit of your strength.

That is hard. The consequence of an easy life is having to learn all that in one fell swoop. I have compassion for that.

But what about me?

Don’t I deserve better?