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justatiredghost · 2 months ago

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Jonathan Sims’ thoughts before leaving while everyone is still asleep before ep 200 spoilers

ao3

John could See all of humanity, trapped in eternal torment. He had to Watch, to see it as it all unfolded. And the worst part was that it felt— good. There was no getting around it, there was no denying it to himself. It fed him, it made him feel stronger. And it left a sick guilt deep inside him, knowing that he could feel anything positive watching so many people suffer.

He’d spent so long trying to save those in his nightmares as he loomed over them and drank in their suffering, but it had never worked. He’d learned the hard way that he was just as helpless as they were, forced to do nothing but watch, never interfere. So he knew it was the same here, at the end of the world. He was once again forced to bear witness and nothing else.

Except, maybe there was a solution. Maybe the Fears could be stopped for good. The others didn’t understand, they couldn’t understand what it was like to exist in those domains. They’d only traveled alongside them. Of course they thought sending these horrors to some other world was an option, they didn’t understand what they’d be doing to them.

John didn’t even truly understand the suffering, he knew that. He could See it and he could feel it, but it wasn’t the same. But he knew what Elias had done to him, the way he’d manipulated him, stolen his voice, forced him to be the one to make this all come about. And the Spider— had any of his actions ever truly been his own?

That had been painful enough. He knew, without a doubt, that he needed to kill them, he needed to kill the Fears and end them so that no one ever had to suffer because of them again, so that no one would have their sense of self stolen, their words, their identities, their faces, their skin.

The guilt for bringing this all about was suffocating, crushing. Martin had tried to comfort him, had tried to tell him that they were going to fix it, but that wasn’t true. It wasn’t enough to simply undo his mistakes. There was no undoing this, not really. There was stopping it at its source, killing everything to stop it for good, or there was starting over and inflicting them on some other world. John had already doomed one world, and now they wanted him to doom countless more in the exact same way. Perhaps he wouldn’t be the one saying the words this time, but he might as well.

They all thought that John wanted this, because he wanted the power, he wanted to become the Pupil. And it would be a lie to say a part of him didn’t, he knew how amazing it would feel. But he hated that that was true, he hated himself and he hated Elias and he hated the Fears with all that he was, and if there was any other option, he would take it. But passing on their suffering was far more cruel, he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t give them what they wanted, he couldn’t follow their plan that he’d been manipulated for all his life.

All he had was this one act of defiance against them. They’d taken him this far, manipulated and used him, but at the final hour he could thwart them, he could make them regret doing this to him and to the world. He would take this on himself, he would take whatever punishment they turned on him for this, but he would take away their victory, make sure they knew it was all for nothing. And then, when they felt their own fear, only then would he finally allow himself to enjoy it.

He wasn’t sure if Martin would forgive him for this. He doubted the others would. He was going behind their backs, betraying them, because he had to, and he hated himself for it so much. But he couldn’t doom even more people to suffer, he couldn’t let anyone else be manipulated and made a mouthpiece for the end of the world the way he had. He couldn’t let anyone else have their agency ripped out of them, their voice no longer their own, feeling the sick crawl of words that would not stop, that slithered out of him, dooming the world, having to live with it because it was his fault his fault his fault—

He would have to live with Martin’s anger if it came to it. Maybe even his hatred and betrayal. He’d learned that he could live with a great many things. He could live with the constant terror, with losing his friends, being the cause of their deaths. He could live with being on the run from the police, nearly being murdered countless times, the pain and the scars. He had even found a way to live with this shame and despair, the knowledge that he had done all of this, he was the cause of so much suffering. But he couldn’t live with passing the fears on. He couldn’t do that.

And so, he carefully untangled his limbs from Martin’s sleeping form, wanting to weep for what he was about to do, wishing he could simply remain at his side forever and shut out the world. But that had never been an option. As much as the learning, the needing to know had driven him all his life, he never could leave well enough alone. He needed to act, to do what he thought was right. So, he gathered himself and headed for the Panipticon, a knife in hand.

#Just a little Drabble to distract from the anxiety #Crying about him always #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #teaholding #jmart

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elfblcd · 25 days ago

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Breathe.

Canon? Not canon? Who knows. It came to me in a dream, or something. Dated before everything went wrong.

'Your Royal Highness. 'Sir. 'Sir. 'Prince Ellich!' 'What?' The source of the voice had shifted. He turned his head to face it and, out of courtesy more than anything, did his best to appear to be looking the Royal Mage in the eyes. 'Close your eyes.' 'Does it matter whether I close them or not?' 'It will help you relax.' Rynn sighed. He couldn't help but feel it would help her relax more than anything. 'All right.' And so he closed his eyes. 'Now breathe.'

And he did, gently, as he had been taught before. In... and out. In... and out. Birds chattered in the trees high above, singing songs to one another in languages not to be known by anyone but them. The breeze on his face was too cool - he couldn't understand why this exercise couldn't have been completed in the Mage's study - but he tried to ignore it and instead focus on the breathing. In... and out. 'Do you feel it?' 'No,' he replied, softly. 'For us mature elves, it feels like a river of flowing water, but you're still young, so it may be more like... the trickle of water when you dip your fingers into a stream. Try picking up on any slight difference of feeling.' Once again, Rynn focused on his own breathing and its gentle rhythm, and he pulled his attention inwards. Every movement of the hair on his head, the twitch of his toes, and yet... 'Not even a drop of water.' The Royal Mage hummed to herself. 'I was hoping you might take after your father,' she confessed. 'He was 10 years your junior when his first signs of magic started to show.' 'Yes.' Rynn spoke louder than before. 'And there were many great mages before him who flourished even younger.' 'Please focus, sir.' 'I do not think I can now.' Rynn got up from his place on the ground, dusted himself off, and walked back in the direction from which they had come. 'Just wait one moment, please, and I'll escort you back to -' But the Royal Mage's words were of no use; Rynn had already begun to walk faster. 'Sir?' And then he broke into a jog. 'Prince Ellich!' But by the time she had called out, her voice was lost betwixt the trees.

Rynn fell back onto his bed and allowed the blankets to absorb him. People tried to greet him on his way through the palace, but he ignored all of them, and they did not press the issue. This was all he wanted: to be alone but for a few moments so that he might... ...well, relax. Was that not the exercise's objective? Rynn scowled. At least now I am allowed to think. But his solitude was not to last long, for soon there was a knock on the door. 'I am not accepting visitors,' he called. 'I'm afraid you don't have a choice in the matter, my dear.' Rynn sat up. 'Mother.' 'How did you fare today?' The weight of the mattress shifted as she took a seat beside him. 'Not as hoped, apparently.' 'You'll get there.' Rynn could hear the smile in her melodic voice. 'We all do.' 'It seems I am expected to flourish like Father.' The irony of that, he thought, while sitting next to the very woman he was often told he took after in appearance (he decided this was a compliment). His mother laughed. At that, Rynn could feel his problems melting away. 'Your father was not the norm. I didn't feel my magic at all until many years after all my friends, you know.' Her tender fingers came up and began to work through her son's hair. He could already hear the echoes of many occasions past: you have such beautiful hair, my dear. You should do more with it. 'I don't think it's anything you should be concerned about,' she continued. 'You know, I've heard those whose magic blooms later live longer. Maybe it's good luck.' There was silence for a moment longer as her fingers continued to comb through Rynn's hair, then, 'Would you still like to be alone?' 'Please.' The fingers left his hair and the weight of the mattress shifted again, and away her footsteps led, and with each step away, Rynn felt himself growing tenser and tenser yet again. Her words were meant to be calming, but she had not grown up with the same expectations; people expected more of royalty than their usual peers. But before she left, his mother spoke a few final words. 'You're aware your father expects you to join him this evening, yes?' 'Mmm.' Then, 'Yes, I do, Mother.' With a moment of perceived hesitation but not another word, his mother left the room with a gentle thunk of the door behind her, and... Rynn blinked. Something else? He did not know how to describe what it had been, but it was something which he had never experienced before. Like the heat from the sparks of flint at a fire, or the spitting of oils when one dared to walk through the kitchen during a banquet preparation. Like a flicker, like... Like sight, perhaps? But so short lived had it been that Rynn couldn't be sure that his mind was playing tricks on him. He walked to the door and opened it. By this time, the halls were quiet; not even his mother's retreating footsteps could be heard. Then he closed the door, with the same gentle thunk he had heard before, and... Nothing. Rynn frowned. Unsure how to classify what had happened any further, he returned to his bed, fell back on it again, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.

#v; crown prince #from the archives » drabble #my whole gendered language thing i did earlier this week doesn't rly apply here b/c language #i am NOT making up languages or even parts of a language jfc i struggle enough with the little i've done for my novel #rynn: exists / me: he's only allowed to have bad days. even when they are good.

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senjutsunade · 1 year ago

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~Unhinged~

✣Character Drabble✣

Shizune always asks what she is looking at, each time she catches the blonde staring out the window.

Tsunade is always startled—though never lets anyone see that—blinks to cover up how lost she had been, shrugs, and returns to the table, whining about more work, needing sake, or Kakashi being late. Again.

And the whole thing is forgotten for a few days until it happens again—when the cycle repeats. At times she gives a vague answer. At times just a sheepish smile. At times no response at all.

Tsunade wonders what Shizune thinks. Concern is always present in her apprentice’s eyes. Though she remains quiet. For which Tsunade is grateful.

The most meaningful discussion she has ever had with Kakashi had been when he inquired whether, when she looked at the picture outside the window, did she see a burden or possibilities? His solemn tone had made her remain quiet for a long time—knowing he wouldn’t want the answer she has to give. Instead, she gives one that will satisfy them both…yet not be an answer. She says she sees a dream.

She knows he expects her to elaborate. But she holds her silence and he chooses to respect her decision to not say more. Maybe he does understand. He is, after all, in a similar position to.

Ironically…the person who understands her need to look out is the one person she has clashed with constantly since her return to Konoha. Danzo, arriving unexpectedly, catches her by surprise, asking how often she sees the present when she looks outside? He doesn’t comment on her shock. Nor does he seem to expect an answer. That’s the only time his gaze tells her that for once, they are the same. Then he turns away and she follows. The past can wait after all.

What does it matter to Konoha that the window shows her not the present generation, but all the faces that are missing? That she sees the ones long gone, left only in her memories. That even when she sees the present, she still looks for the smiling face of her brother or a glimpse of white and black hair. She looks for all the faces she knows have not stepped into the village in decades.

The present day does not care that she is the last of a generation that sacrificed itself so that Konoha may still exist today.

And she questions whether it’s a blessing or a curse that she still remains there, to remember those who aren’t.

Outside the window, the world is a kaleidoscope of colors she once loved. The azure sky, the emerald leaves rustling in the wind, the vibrant reds and yellows—all are muted in her eyes, overshadowed by the ghosts of the past. The bustling streets are filled with laughter and life, yet all she can hear is the silence of those who have fallen.

Each day, the sunlight filters through the window, casting long shadows across her desk. She watches as the light dances, trying to find warmth in its touch, but it only serves to highlight the emptiness within her. The silhouettes of the villagers move about their daily lives, oblivious to the weight she carries, the history etched into her very soul.

Tsunade often catches herself tracing the lines of the glass with her fingertips, as if she could reach through it and touch the memories held on the other side. The window has become her silent confidant, bearing witness to her silent grief, her unspoken fears, and the relentless march of time.

She sees Nawaki’s youthful grin, always full of dreams too grand for his small frame. She sees Dan, with his kind eyes and the promise of a future that was stolen away. She sees Jiraiya, always a step behind, yet forever loyal. She sees Orochimaru, his serpentine gaze ever calculating, a reminder of the fine line between brilliance and madness. Their faces blend with the living, creating a tapestry of what was and what is, a constant reminder of the price of peace.

Every so often, a familiar face from her childhood appears in the crowd, now older, wearier. They nod to her, a silent acknowledgment of shared loss, but their eyes quickly move on, focusing on the future she struggles to embrace.

The seasons change outside, painting the village in different hues, but inside her office, it remains winter. The coldness of her reality, the stark white of her solitude, contrasts sharply with the life outside. She knows the village thrives, rebuilt from the ashes of war, but the cost is written in every invisible line of her face, every scar on her heart.

As the day fades into twilight, the sky outside her window turns a deep orange, then purple, then black. The stars emerge, one by one, distant and cold. Tsunade remains at her desk, the glow of the moon casting a pale light into the room. She sighs, the weight of the past and the burden of the present pressing heavily upon her.

In these quiet moments, when the world outside is cloaked in darkness, she allows herself to feel the full extent of her sorrow. Tears may fall, unseen and silent, but they are hers alone. For as long as she remains, so too will the memories, the ghosts, and the unending question of what might have been.

#➤ D r a b b l e s ┊ ❛ In a blatant mind my thoughts have entwined ❜#Character Drabble #From the archives #Tsunade #Shizune #Kakashi #Dan #Nawaki #Jiraiya #Orochumaru

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necroangelz · 2 years ago

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No one to share the memory of frost.

day 1.5 of @ebiuxxxx's event

“ a character / song you are kin with / relate to. ”

STARFRUIT COOKIE SEMI-DRABBLE! repeated day 1 because i just really wanted to write. takes place after pomegranate's betrayal and starfruit can't seem to sleep tonight, as always. the rest of the story is under the cut. please enjoy.

“ You're my best friend, now I've no one to tell of how I lost my best friend. . . ”

The stars have gone dark. Both the stars in her heart and the stars in the prophetic fountain. She lays awake in bed with bloodshot eyes. Sleep has eluded her for nights now; every time she closes her eyes, she sees red. She sees puffs of red hair, a red ceremonial robe sweeping across the floor, and enchanting red eyes. Pulling her in. Engulfing her in an embrace as it stabs her in the back.

Starfruit used to be at the top. She was respected, admired. Wasn't it so great that she was able to connect with the stars and become an oracle at such a young age? Her heart is as pure as the glowing stars above, but not all hearts are the same as hers.

As she laid on her mess of a bed, her curly hair fanned out beneath her, she holds her hands to her chest and prays a repeating mantra.

May the stars guide me once again, may the stars guide me once again, may the stars guide me once again....

The uttered words were barely over a whisper. If she spoke much louder she might burst into tears. Although the volume of her voice doesn't matter, nor how fervently she prays, the stars never listen anymore.

Her weak voice fades and she falls silent. It was truly unjust—why must she, the victim, suffer so much for this? Why can't the stars, or anyone for that matter, seem to forgive her? Maybe this was really the end for her. She was so foolish.

A thought enters her restless, wandering mind.

She wonders if Pomegranate would understand her situation despite being the direct cause of Starfruit's downfall.

Deep in her heart, she knew she would.

End.

Blue space divider (in the header): by @cafekitsune

header by me.

yellow stars divider (in the post): by @saradika

#👁️‍🗨️﹕ from the archives 𝜗𝜚 ︵#NOTE i dont see the characters as cookies personally when i write or visualize them so i didn't use cookie terminology or wtv #cookie run ovenbreak #drabble #starfruit cookie #starfruit cookie crob #starpome #starfruit cookie x pomegranate cookie #writing #sfw #fanfiction #cookie run fanfiction #fanfic #short story

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fandomloreblog · 2 years ago

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Since I’m working on on my reincarnation fanfic for the Baldur’s gate characters, I figured I’d lore drop a bit on the reincarnations + Astarion and their backstories. Feel free to read “To You, 10,000 Year From Now” on Ao3!

🌟 Tav 🌟

A Half-Elf who is known for making friends wherever they go, Tav is a Baldurian, born and raised, who has dreams of becoming a famed hero and explorer. Majoring in the Paladin track, along with studying classes within the rest of the main tracks, Tav is a jack of all trades, striving for good. They mostly hang out with Shadowheart at the local Sharbucks cafe, reading and planning their grand adventures when they graduate.

🪄 Gale 🪄

Gale’s a prodigy Wizard from Waterdeep, attending Baldur’s Gate University with the assistance of a scholarship. He majors in the Wizard Track, while minoring in the Bard track as well. He’s an absolute golden retriever of a man with a hopeless crush on the half-elf paladin Tav, and he’s trying his best. He wishes to become a wizard in servitude of Mystra, but most gods and goddesses haven’t been seen in over 10,000 years, so his back-up plan is to become an arcane scholar. He mostly spends his time with Sarzes, a silver dragonborn in the Sorcerer Track, and Loki, an unaligned drow whose main focus currently is magic.

🌙 Shadowheart 🌙

An orphan whose parents were claimed in a religious accident, Shadowheart has decided to major in the Cleric track at Baldur’s Gate University, studying old god and goddess, specifically the feud between Selûne and Shar. She works at a local chain coffee cafe, Sharbucks, for extra money when she isn’t studying. She also minors in the Monk and Paladin tracks for extra studies on combat and dueling, which was where she met Tav. The two later became close friends and roommates before the events of the fic began.

🔥 Karlach 🔥

A transfer student sent from Avernus itself, Karlach is a student in the Barbarian and Fighter tracks, along with minoring in the Artificer track in order to sate her curiosity over infernal machinery. She’s constantly procuring metals and machinery to upgrade her custom motorcycle, even going so far as to steal from the annoying shop teachers, or even resorting to the local contraband dealer Enver Gortash to get her supplies. She hopes to get a job working with machinery once she graduates.

👁️ Wyll 👁️

The son of one of the Duke’s of the city, Wyll made a pact with a centuries old fiend, Mizora, in order to protect his parents from scheming rivals who plotted their demise. However, he was then outcasted by his father due to the pact, and left shunned as a result. He studies in the Warlock track at Baldur’s gate, minoring in the Ranger track for extra knowledge on hunting threats. He mostly spends his time keeping Karlach out of trouble, while also occasionally hunting Mizora’s targets when needed.

⚔️ Lae’zel ⚔️

A githyanki transfer student, Lae’zel focuses her studies in the Fighter track, while minoring in the Monk track in order to train to serve the Prince of the Comet. She is extremely cold and serious with a strong sense of justice, being known for clearing out an entire gang of goblins that had moved into a local student hangout. She doesn’t associate with most of the students on campus, rather focusing on studying and training as much as she can.

🩸 Sarzes | The Dark Urge 🩸

A silver dragonborn, Sarzes has combated with her sadistic urges all of her life, only encouraged by the demonic goblin butler Morsoffter. A major in the Sorcerer track, she also minors in the Rogue and Cleric tracks for extra stealth and healing studies. She studied at Baldur’s Gate as an excuse to move to the city, hoping to find her absent father, who supposedly suffered the same ailment as she now does. Originally hanging with the less savoury crowds on campus, mostly with Orin and Gortash, before opting to befriend Loki and Gale.

🦇 Astarion 🦇

The lone survivor of 10,000 years ago, Astarion witnessed the curse of The Scorned One entrap the souls of his friends, promising vengeance someday in the future. It is why he has remained in Baldur’s Gate, living a somewhat public life as a philanthropist and entertainer. He hopes that one day that the reincarnations of his friends will remember and seek him out. Until then, he has to worry about protecting the keys to resurrecting The Scorned One, such as the Book Of Shadows, which has now gone missing. He has levels in the Rogue and Bard classes.

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iforimaginary · 2 years ago

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Went to see Agatha Christie’s ‘The Mousetrap’ in the West End today…

Besides Mr Paravicini being a frighteningly accurate crossbreed of Elias’s looks and Simon’s personality, I had the most Lonely Eyes-esque couple sit in the row ahead of me:

Two rather old men who were clearly together. One wearing a navy suit and sporting a long grey beard and the other cleanly shaven in a grey waistcoat with a cravat. The latter came back from the foyer and was complaining in the poshest British accent that they didn’t carry the brand of Prosecco he usually drank. His partner looked utterly exhausted and tried to argue back about the absurdity of complaining over the menu of a theatre concession bar.

I truly wish I was making this up…

They unknowingly made my experience all the more entertaining!!

All that to say: I feel compelled to write a drabble about Peter & Elias going out on a date to see The Mousetrap- not only because I feel it would be particularly in character given their canon narratives, but also because I believe Peter would positively not let Elias rest due to his likeness to Mr Paravicini.

Perhaps, be on the look out for that post…

#tma #the magnus archives #magnus pod #lonely eyes #elias bouchard #peter lukas #drabbles #drabble ideas #bless those old sods for cluelessly resembling a couple from a horror podcast

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darkspace7 · 2 years ago

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[That Which Protects The Falling Rain] Pt.1

[A Sort of Synopsis, if you will]: Okay so the other day I was just faffing about and watching some videos discussing some of the Bleach Brave Soul character design choices as you do and then I got to thinking about how there were so few decently good fics featuring our good man Ishida and then that somehow led into wondering why there weren’t hardly any detailing the situations of how one would even come about to wear those alternate costumes in the first place and then that somehow devolved into contemplating time/dimension travel and fusion (as in literal fusion –not crossovers- although those are nice too…) fics and what-ifs involving rather creative semi-roll swaps and we all know that canon is basically just a suggestion at this point so anyway-

Here’s my-

“Through An Exceedingly Convoluted Series Of Events Spanning The Course Of About Roughly Two Weeks Uryū Ishida Gets Yeeted To An Alternate Timeline/Dimension Thing With An Imprint Of Ichigo Camping In His Soul As A Sort-Of Bastardized Zanpakutō And Now He Must Wage In Shadow Espionage Bullshit Because At This Point Aizen Is Still A Problem And Tipping Off The Quincy While Everyone’s Even Weaker Than The Timeline They Left Would Be Bad. (Also Having Two Instances Of The Almighty + Antithesis In The Same General Vicinity Is Apparently Bad For The Continued Existence Of Reality) And Somehow Not Potentially Fuck Everything Else Up Even Worse Than Last Time As Well As Try Not To Have A Complete Nervous Breakdown In The Mean Time.”

-AU…

But that’s kind of a mouthful so imma just call it [That Which Protects The Falling Rain] AU

So yeah…

As you can obviously tell from the prior blurb this is more or less canon divergent starting from the point that Ichigo got his powers back after the timeskip (which –in my completely honest opinion- was a bullshit arc anyway for a number of reasons that I refuse to go into at the moment) with the main kicker of it all being the things that happened with the whole Quincy ordeal went significantly worse off than in canon and basically a bad time was had by everyone.

[Unwind the World and Your Nightmare’s Gone]

Turns out that if you have a crumbling pillar that props up what is an already heavily destabilized world murked on top of everything else tends to accelerate the wholesale destruction of everything in existence. The first of this was quickly realized when Hueco Mundo, the Wandenreich, and the Soul Society all crashed and began to bleed into one another. This mockery of a union only served to further tip the scales to such an extreme that Hell itself –which at this point was still puttering along as the sole remaining pillar of reality- began to develop cracks in the framework before eventually just giving way entirely. And thus things started to bleed indiscriminately into the World of the Living.

Which, I don’t need to tell you, was bad news bears.

In the chaos and calamity people were dying in droves and –because the reincarnation cycle was wholly and utterly fucked- they were staying dead. The very few individuals that had been smart enough to dip when the water hit the wall or were (un)fortunate enough to dodge the first fires of the literal apocalypse managed to bunker down, sustaining themselves on the heavily overly-saturated reishi of the atmosphere as they waited for the inevitable end tailmarked on the hands of the three souls that still carried on. These three –the False King tainted with the spark of divinity, his Heir who sought to put an end to his reign, and the Hybrid who felled God Himself- who fought on even though everything and everyone they had once stood for having fallen ages before them; their hands grasping for that last pyrrhic victory because what else is there at this point?

But –much like the moon for which his blades were named- even the powers of god-slayers must wane and on the field of battle enemies will use any fault to their advantage. And so, with a decisive slice of the blade, the False King went Off With His Head and the prodigal son made his way back home like the rest of his children. But it was here that Yhwach, made a Mistake™.

For all that Ichigo Kurosaki was a hybrid of both Quincy and Soul Reaper, he was also part Hollow as well.

And Hollows are poisonous to Quincy.

But the imprudent ruler was past caring at this point -was confident he could weather the poisoning of his soul- that he just had to stop for a moment to allow the restless stubborn child to settle down and from there he could then adapt and adjust. But to do such a thing on a battlefield where there was still one other active combatant left (no matter how you have dismissed the other boy as being a non-threat at this point) was pure hubris in of itself.

Enter: Uryū Ishida.

Armed with a silver arrow crafted from the bodies of his kinsmen that he lifted from the corpse of his estranged father and the sheer and utter spite of someone who has seen every single last one of their friends and family be killed and subsequently has no more fucks to give decides in his exhausted state to pull an Ichigo and lets the fly.

It hits.

At long last, the Old King was dead.

But it wasn’t enough.

Because the being named Yhwach was a great number of things, however, unprepared was not one of them. Being able to see possibility after possibility was indeed a great boon when it came time to sketch out an action plan for such eventualities. Case in point, when faced with the surefire destruction of your own physical and spiritual being it is perhaps okay to latch on to and borrow another. And what better source than your treasonous Heir not a stone’s throw from where you currently were?

Long live the king.

Or so you thought bitch.

Turns out neither did the Quincy child nor the rebellious echo of the hybrid boy much care for his attempt at bodyjacking. So unanimously they decided to say –fuck that- and pull off their own sort of deus ex machina using Uryū’s Shrift in conjunction with Ichigo’s kind of admittedly bullshit hybridity powers to throw a wrench in things and swap the Fate of not only himself the other late teen’s echo as well so that in the end it was Ywhach who would be the one subsumed.

And by some fucking miracle, it worked.

They successfully managed to topple the Quincy King from his position to allow for Uryū to then supplant himself on the vacant throne as the King as the remainder of Ichigo’s unique spiritual signature securely subsumed the rest of Yhwach’s essence and then somehow used it to stabilize the burgeoning fuckery that was now his (and apparently Ishida’s???) soul.

Long live the King (and his new and only somewhat unwilling headmate) indeed.

Just in time for reality to start falling apart.

With the weight of the final battle having finally given way to bone-deep exhaustion he –(or, rather, was it they now? Truth be told, neither boy was entirely sure what to make of their current situation and the sheer number of existential issues that simply arose from their paradoxical state of being. But then again that sort of thing wasn’t exactly a new thing when it came to his whole impossible existence now was it? Hell, he’d had so many ‘impossibles’ tossed at him that at this point the very word was starting to lose all meaning, honestly. And this current bit of what-the-fuckery was just another layer to the botched clusterfuck of a cake now wasn’t it? ‘…Good god Kurosaki do you think you could save your little existential crisis for later? Neither of us have the energy for it and I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I’m pretty sure that at least one of us currently has a fucking concussion.’ No, fuck you man, I don’t know if you’ve noticed but the world’s fucking ending. This is a good as time as any, man. ‘I just want somewhere we can get a chance to rest.’)- leveraged their worn body up on unstable legs in search of an unbroken spot where they could do just that.

Sometime along the way he had noted the larger of the orange-haired hybrid’s blades among the debris and stopped to examine it. (Or rather, having sensed the echo of their wielder contained within, it had lowered itself to allow him a chance to look upon its glory. At least, that was the impression that it seemed to be giving off anyway. Yeah, like a pair of stray cats you rescued from out behind the dumpster on trash day, his Zangetsu was. But even to the end they tried to help in their own way… ‘‘Slaying Moon’ huh? What an apt name for such a blade.’ Blades. There’s two of them. Ah, that was right. But if so then where…?)

Even now, their wicked sharp edge gleamed obsidian in the light as he subconsciously let the blade rest behind in the crook of his back. Feeling the small clasp as sword seemed to latch onto his presence as if magnetic. Readjusting his glasses he glanced around and let out a soft noise when their eyes alit upon their prize.

(He did not look at the body sprawled out upon the ground as they knelt down and gently pried the shorter blade from stiff fingers. He did not look at the severed head with too blank eyes as he slid the other half of his blade carefully into the waistband of his belt.He did not look at his own corpse resting at his feet-)

He stood.

Continuing on, he trudged along aimlessly, stumbling from wreck to wreck in an attempt to avoid the ever encroaching void that slowly but surely ate at what was left of their worlds. (They decidedly ignored the shadows that lapped at their feet. The way they danced inexplicably without a clear source of light. Twisting and writhing along the rolling dark as if they were but a thousand –familiar- eyes held back behind closed lids –theirshisoursmine- as they waited there. Dreaming.)

He stumbled.

They walked on until eventually they happened upon a surprisingly stable section of what appeared the Royal Realm and what was even more astonishing was the fact that out of everyone who could’ve somehow managed to dodge the apocalypse they had the misfortune to run into Aizen of all people. And it seemed that the ex-captain was just as enthused to see them.

(Wow, yeah, no. Not surprised that you survived because you’re pretty much a damned cockroach at this point. But I am genuinely kind of surprised that you decided to stick around instead of –I don’t know- having the good sense to bail when everything started going to shit? You’d think he would. Like, scurry away to lick the wounds and that sort of shit, right? ‘Right, absolutely riveting commentary Kurosaki. Such a shame that I’m the only one who’s forced to listen to it.’ Grimace. Urgh what god did I piss off to get stuck with you assholes? ‘Probably the two we just killed.’…Ah. Right.)

“Hm, that’s certainly a pleasant expression.”

(…I wanna kick his fucking ass. ‘What? No!’ Just a single boot shoved right in his smug bondage-wrapped face. ‘No.’)

Thoroughly exasperated and just utterly done with everything and everyone at this point Uryū decided this was as good as they were going to get and sort of collapsed at the foot of the broken throne with an undignified grunt, shifting the massive knife from his back to a more comfortable spot upon his lap as to allow himself to prop their body up against a slab of rubble. The youth let out a groaning-sigh.

Aizen –having meandered over to join him- watched with a keen interest.

(The subtle shade of black bleeding into the much younger man’s sclera, the downright monstrous inferno of tainted Quincy-Reaper-Hollow reiatsu coupled with the unnatural way that the writhing shadows almost seemed to linger protectively around the bloodied child before him, and while truthfully he was rather near-sighted ((destroying his last pair of glasses in a spur of dramatic theatricality had genuinely been one of his sole regrets, especially considering later when it became wholly apparent that the hōgokyu refused to let itself be used for something as banal as correcting one’s eyesight)) he’d have to have been blinder than Kaname to miss the ease at which the other had hefted that particular blade around. Also, the singular horn was kind of conspicuous and worthy enough for him to lift a brow.)

“Your feats never cease to push the realm of possibility, why I’m honestly starting to think you don’t know the meaning of the word Kurosaki.” He watched with sharp eyes, observing how even the shadows surrounding the youth seemed to freeze. Fascinating. “Or perhaps you would prefer some other form of address more suited to the body you’re currently occupying?” A dark eye crinkled with wry amusement, “Maybe even something more befitting to that of royalty?”

(He’s not going to let this go is he? ‘Ugh, no.’ …Fuck it.)

And so the one-who-was-once-many resigned themself to a litany of awkward conversation as they waited for the world to end.

And what a back and forth it was. Some of the more notable highlights included: In depth discussions on one’s particular choice of eyewear – {“So, wait, hold on. You’re saying you actually needed those glasses and that the whole debacle with the Winter War you were essentially fighting half-blind the whole time?!”

“In the barest sense of the term, yes. Why do you seem so surprised? Did you perhaps forget that one of my compatriots was blind? It is a perfectly reasonable method to use one’s spiritual sense as a sort of complement to innate abilities during combat, as I am sure that one of your newer parts is undoubtedly already aware.”

“…Newer parts?”

“The misguided Quincy child that you once called your comrade and presumably the original owner of the patchwork monstrosity that you now call a form.”

(‘…Okay, yes, while losing your glasses during a fight does fucking suck I’m far-sighted and also mainly focused on archery so it’s not so bad but “patchwork monstrosity?” Rude, much?’)

“My, what a frightening expression.”

They flipped him off.}

–To the eventual reluctant admittance of what had occurred during their final battle versus the late Quincy King-

{it was in general agreement that the whole thing was a collective load of bullshit, however Aizen did find some note of ironic humour in the new fusion’s predicament much to said being’s annoyance.}

–To why the traitorous ex-captain was even there in the first place-

{“And where exactly would you have intended me to have gone, hm?” The man gestured broadly at the wanton destruction that surrounded them.

“Should I have squirrelled myself away like the scarce few remaining beings that tried to do so before everything fell to ruin? Don’t make me laugh. Why, I would even dare to say those poor unfortunate souls have been all but eliminated when the world pillars sang their swan song and even if they managed to survive that don’t you think the void would have consumed them much like everything else at this point?” Sōsuke leveled a dry look, letting his head fall back against the remains of a broken pillar wearily.

“So I figured this was as good as a time as any to try my hand at usurping the throne, you know, seeing as the current Soul King was indisposed.” A flicker of genuine consternation flashed across the man’s face. “But, it seems that crossing into the realm of transcendence is still not enough just so long as you’re still missing a fundamental piece of the equation.”

“Wow. So even after going through all of that you still weren’t –what- Quincy enough to take the crown? Heh, sucks to be you I guess. Wh-hey! We already have a concussion you didn’t have to throw a rock at me you ass.” With a huff, they rubbed at the new welt on their head. “Geez…”

“But seriously, I can’t believe with all that bullshit you pulled trying to get the magic death marble to make you god it couldn’t even manage it in the end.” As the hand dropped to the blade in their lap, they gave a faint scowl and then turned to face the other. “And really, what’d it even matter at this point? Figure we could use it to prop up reality –or at least what’s left of it anyway- and keep it from imploding or something?”

Aizen let out a somewhat undignified snort, “The Quincy have finally brought around your inclinations of royalty, I see. You’ve even started using the royal we. But yeah, sure, why not. Go ahead and take a stab at being the Soul King for a bit, I mean I’d say you can’t possibly be worse that what’s going on right now but somehow I think you would manage it just to spite me.”

The young being let out a snort of his own as they rolled with the bit, “No, we’d totally be an awesome Soul King. Way better than the last one and Not Unstable At All. Heck, we wouldn’t even abuse whatever the bullshit powers we had on top of everything else so we could –I don’t know- turn back time and fucking unmurder everyone. Oh! While we’re at it why don’t we try taking a crack completely unknotting that clusterfuck you guys call a politics around here. Because, honestly? Responding to every new thing that shows up on your doorstep with ‘treat it like shit’ and/or ‘try to kill it with extreme prejudice’ tends to piss people off and is probably why y’all had so many enemies.”

They nodded, sarcasm just oozing from their tone. “Yeah, all of that would be just so fun. Don’t you think?”}

Who could have foreseen that such a benignly one-off comment could have could spurred such further chaos?

(Well they probably could have. But –in their defence- they weren’t exactly firing on all cylinders at the time; what with the existential fuckery that they were still coming to terms with alongside the previously mentioned concussion that made it so when Aizen ((who had went suspiciously quiet after his little haha-funny-but-not-really joke)) proceeded to pitch the Idea™ to them it didn’t really seem to tack on as being anything worse than what the apocalypse that they were already were going through was.

But as now they found themselves trying not to squirm with a hand splayed awkwardly over the violet gem embedded in the other man’s bare chest as the other looked on with what seemed to be deep-set amusement they could not help but think to themselves: they really should’ve known better.)

(‘This is so stupid.’ There’s no way this would ever work-) Astonishingly, the gem beneath their hand began to glow.

(…Are you kidding me?)

“Huh, it seems like the hōgokyu was actually able to grant my wish after all.” The other murmured, ripping the fusion’s attention away from the entrancing glow only for them to watch as the man before them slowly began to crumble to dust before their very eyes. “Rather roundabout way of doing it though, if you ask me.” Sōsuke snorted, dark eye flicking up to meet the other’s disbelief. “Listen well Ichigo Kurosaki and Uryū Ishida, this will be the last time we meet one another as things are. Don’t squander the opportunity you’ve been given as it’s highly unlikely you will get another one.”

“…Understood.”

“Good.” The other seemed…actually kind of relieved? That was all they had time to think before his body was gone and it was their fingers clutched around the hōgokyu as it then took their wish (to fix this oh god don’t you dare drop something like this on us and then leave us aloneyou utter bastardplease I don’t want to be the last one left after everything I don’t want to be aloneand just like that there went another person that he failed to protect just like everyone elseplease I just want to fix this make it like it never happened!) and moulded it and then unwound the world from its crumbling spool, unwound them, unmade him and now he-

-Was-

but only for an instant before world reformed around himself and he was forcefully slammed into (his/their/whose?) body.

He blacked out.

#DS7's Log #[That Which Protects The Falling Rain]#Bleach Fanfiction #-carefully adds to the archive-#Ichigo Kurosaki #Uryu Ishida #Sosuke Aizen #In which the author continuously makes poor life choices and is even worse at knowing how to tag and work shit so this is your only warning #Wait so Tumblr can make strikethroughs but not underline stuff? Ugh that sucks.#Fuck it y'all are getting colours then I guess.#How the fuck did this turn into a story halfway through?#It was only supposed to be a meme drabble idea jfc... OTL #Also like lowkey Yhwach with those shadow eye-things deadass looks like a older and scruffier version of Pride from the FMA manga fr...

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ttauriwanderer · 1 year ago

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Steven is a fairly sound sleeper more often than not, with a small list of things that will make him bolt to immediate alertness. It helps when one is surrounded by younger orphans to both sleep through and watch over, just as much as it helps when one is surrounded by the hum and rumble of a starship to sleep through but be alert to if the tone changes.

He's soundly asleep in his replica of home, his phone set up on the bedside table with a background noise app playing the closest thing he could find to the sound of his ship when something shifts. It's enough to stir him a little, but the sensation is somehow familiar, so he settles again. If anything, he falls deeper asleep with the soft tip-tap of little metal legs.

At least until, maybe five minutes later, one such little metal leg prods his cheek. He swats vaguely at the poke and mumbles sleepily, only to be poked again when he settles again. A grumble and another swat only results in a third poke, and Steven finally opens his eyes.

"Ugh, Bip, it's too early. My alarm hasn't even gone off yet." He closes his eyes again, only to bolt up a half second later and pluck the little robot off his bedside table. "Bip! You're here! Is anyone else?" A sad sounding whistle has him frowning, but he cradles the little robot anyway.

"It's okay buddy, at least you're here. Come on, I'll tell you all about this place! Maybe my roommate will get up early enough to meet you."

It's not much in the way of returning what he's lost, but Bip is precious to him in a way his powers aren't. He'll take it.

#aevum ic #ability unlock #tales from beyond the void ( drabbles )#added to the archives ( saved )#belated little drabble for his ability unlock #tiny robot big soul ( bip )

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ghast1yghosts · 5 months ago

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trans eddie only getting his period once/twice when he was 13—flash forward to when he’s w steve and ~21. one day it comes back and him & steve are both just like:🧍🏻what the fuck do we do

#Steve’s just tidying up the kitchen when he hears a drawn out “Steeeeve?” coming from upstairs #they have to call robin.#steve going to the store for eddie but has to take rob w him bc “wtf idk”#steddie #eddie munson #stranger things #steve harrington #steve x eddie #trans masc eddie munson #trans eddie munson #archive #drabble

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faejilly · 1 year ago

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You can filter AO3 by word count! You can put just a minimum, or just a maximum, or both! Or neither! AO3 has the best filters! You can exclude and include different things on the same search! It's GREAT! That means anyone can post anything as long as they label what it is! (And word count is automatic, so they don't even have to do anything!)

If you do a mini-fic or three-sentence meme (that used to be a thing) which may be even less than 100 words depending on how you write, you should post them on AO3 HOWEVER YOU WANT because IT'S YOUR ARCHIVE. 🎉

poll time!

*for context: usually I disagree with this practice and think things like [prompt] month fills should be standalone works in a collection/series. but I have a hunch people might feel differently about drabbles since they're so short.

I’m genuinely curious about this, but also I’ve been writing a lot of drabbles here on tumblr and I’m on the fence about sharing them anywhere else. thanks for voting and reblogging!

#also like #I *personally* put my drabbles/ficlets into multi-chapter collections #but I limit by fandom and character so they're not gigantic nonsense #and even so that means no new readers click on them #they just don't #but they work very well #for repeat readers or people clicking links from tumblr #and as an archive so I the author can find things again #rather than having 1000 tiny things because FOR ME (ymmv)#the tags and titles and blurbs would just be nonsense with that many ficlets #and I would NEVER be able to find anything EVER AGAIN #jilly spam #in the tags #tumblr polls #on ao3 #and my abominable abuse of exclamation points

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sixeyesonathiel · 2 months ago

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THE ARCHIVE OF AFFECTION (AND OTHER CRIMES)

— ongoing case files, tooth-rotting exclusives, and other crimes against literary sanity. updates are irregular, but the delusion is consistent. read tags and descriptions on your own risk.

౨ৎ FRONT PAGE EXCLUSIVES .ᐟ

— red string of fate collection

౨ৎ HIGH-PROFILE CASES: LONG FICS .ᐟ

— free throws and figure drawings , told the nerd to film it and he exported inside me instead! , diet pepsi , a treatise on inconvenient attraction , the curious case of satoru gojo , in case of academic emergency, kiss me

౨ৎ ONGOING INVESTIGATIONS: SERIES .ᐟ

— a guide to ditching the world’s most persistent nerd! , love comes in small sizes , love thy neighbor , kill switch , wanted: dead or wed

౨ৎ LOCAL DISRUPTIONS: SHORT FICS .ᐟ

— roses bloom the prettiest in ruin , no one else needed to notice , all’s fair , love & war , wherever you want it, baby, i’m taking you there! , bet on blue , ivy , panopticon , illicit affairs , warmth waits here , skip me again and i’ll glitch your heart , shy girls suck the best , infinite void? more like infinite errands! , even softer than expected , co-parenting? no. co-pettying. , bite your tongue, i like it better bloody , call it first aid , you ever draw someone so hard you ride them? , your goddess loves you this much , something warm and golden , this love survives bad haircuts

౨ৎ PSYCHE PROFILE: SATORU GOJO .ᐟ

— rich boy roommate satoru , frat boy satoru , roommate satoru , clanhead satoru , pirate satoru , nerd satoru , academic rival satoru , sugar daddy satoru

౨ৎ OFF THE RECORD: DRABBLES .ᐟ

— satoru x oblivious reader , making satoru blush , satoru’s pint sized copy fails the quiz satoru helped him review , satoru being a tease , yandere satoru w/ servant reader , isekai’d game protag nerdjo x not so npc saintess reader , lost princess reader x etiquette teacher satoru , satoru ’helping’ you take a pregnancy test , satoru vs your period mood swings , temporarily genderbent satoru showing up on ur first date , satoru bakes cookies , magical girl reader x satoru , delulu & yearning nerdjo x shy reader , kid satoru and shikigami reader <- pt. 2 , pt. 3 , basketball player satoru drawing his artist girlfriend reader , childhood friend satoru carrying you so your socks don’t get wet , satoru accidentally tasting your mascara while comforting you , satoru and the five second rule , ragebaiting nerdjo , satoru taking too big of a bite on your cheeseburger , married off to the mysterious gojo heir , cowboy satoru saving you from bandits (you’re one of them) , brushing time with satoru , luxury shopping with satoru , male manipulator satoru and girl failure reader <- pt 2 , satoru and correction kink , soldier satoru and nurse reader , knight satoru and princess reader , photography club pres satoru and journalism club pres reader <- pt 2 , vampire satoru and gf reader <- him eating u out on ur period , love is war: divorce edition , i love you more competition with first year satoru , satoru overdoing it in his first date with you , so-called village guardian satoru and vampire reader , testing a sex toy while satoru watches, corruption + ntr w/ tutor satoru , a whisker away au

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fvaleraye-doodles · 2 years ago

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visual rebrand is essentially done, might change icons and headers etc at our discretion, still have various things to do like links and etc, but for now comes the hard part.

we have nearly 1000 posts to sift through.

god help us.

#might as well get it out of the way now #if we find drabbles and don't have them in our files; we'll archive them. for posterity #and probably delete them from the blog.#this blog is getting a deep cleaning

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senjutsunade · 1 year ago

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~Beneath the Surface~

✣Character Drabble✣

Konoha needed rebuilding.

And she didn’t mean the infrastructure, though that, of course, needed some serious work too. Standing atop the Hokage Tower roof, Tsunade surveyed the village below. The once vibrant streets now seemed marred with an intangible decay, a sense of desolation that no amount of repairs could conceal. The cracks in the foundation of the ideology this place had stood for were painfully visible to someone like her. Someone who had not been in this village for a decent chunk of two decades. This village that had changed in her absence. This village that still reeked of painful memories. This village that was home…as familiar to her as all of her invisible scars.

The air was thick with the scent of lingering smoke from the rebuilding efforts. The distant hammering and shouts of workers echoed through the twilight. Tsunade's sharp eyes took in the details—the patched-up buildings, the newly erected scaffolds, the hastily repaired streets. But beyond the physical repairs, she could sense the deeper fissures, the ones that threatened the very soul of Konoha.

She knew this place. So she knew the rot had set in long before the Suna-Oto Invasion. It had set in the day the Yondaime had sacrificed himself. Konoha had entered its dark era when the Sandaime had resumed his duties as Hokage, despite no longer being the right fit. The Uchiha massacre was proof enough. The unrest between the other clans, another reminder.

And yet…

Minato had been a good Hokage. Though a bit of an idealistic fool—a small smile twitched at her lips as some of the memories resurfaced, forcing her to reflect on the uncanny similarities between him and his equally blonde and idiotic spawn. An idealistic fool who would have healed Konoha, had he had enough time. Had fate not been so cruel to him.

Her gaze softened as she thought of Minato, his bright blue eyes always filled with hope and determination. His laughter, a rare but treasured sound, echoed in her mind. Of afternoons spent running in forests and childish laughter echoing through the trees. 'Tsunade-ane…' That pain she had carried within her for years. Minato should not have died. Minato had embodied the very essence of the Will of Fire, one borrowed from Nawaki she desperately wanted to believe, a beacon of light in the often dark world of shinobi. His gentle yet firm leadership had inspired many to believe in a brighter future for Konoha. Minato was meant to carry on Nawaki's dream….

But Minato had never gotten enough time to be remembered as a leader. His legacy was to become a hero. A martyr. He had given everything for the village, his life ending in a blaze of glory that would be sung about for generations. Yet, his true potential as Hokage had been left unrealized, a promise unfulfilled. The fates had taken him too soon, leaving behind a void that no one had been able to fill. Fates were cruel and Konoha was too skilled at fucking up the genius of each generation.

And so the Sandaime had resumed his role as Hokage. For generations, he had been at the helm of it all, his constant presence like a balm to the village's wounds. His wise and calm demeanor had been a source of comfort for many, but in that pretense of comfort, they never realized how the wound festered. How the infection spread.

Tsunade's eyes narrowed as she scanned the horizon, the setting sun casting long shadows over the village. The orange and red hues of the sky reminded her of the blood that had been shed, the lives lost in the name of peace. The Uchiha massacre, the ongoing unrest among the clans, the hidden rot that had been allowed to grow unchecked—all symptoms of a deeper sickness that had taken root under the Sandaime's watch.

Konoha, the first of the shinobi villages, the strongest of the ninja dominion, had been shaken to its core by a pathetic attack. The Suna-Oto Invasion had laid bare the weaknesses that had been ignored for too long. The village's foundations, once thought unshakable, had been revealed to be riddled with cracks.

The wind picked up, rustling her hair and carrying with it a chill that seeped into her bones. She wrapped her arms around herself, feeling the weight of the village's history pressing down on her.

Suna—she recalled very clearly the havoc a handful of Konoha shinobi had wreaked in Suna-claimed territories during the Second Shinobi War. The memory of scorching desert winds carrying the scent of blood and sand was still vivid in her mind. She could almost hear the distant cries of battle, see the sand-strewn streets painted with the colors of conflict. Konoha had been a force to be reckoned with, turning the very sands of Suna against its inhabitants. And Oto? Oto was nothing but Orochimaru’s playground. To have allowed Konoha to fall prey to that—allowing her home to be a mere chess piece in Orochimaru's game—was unthinkable.

Anger surged through her, a tempest she had tamed for decades now roaring to life. Sarutobi, the benevolent Sandaime, the Professor, the protector of all Konoha—kept failing them. Even in his death—ironic how his demise too was of his own making—he had damaged the very foundations of this village.

The mess had fallen on her shoulders. Thanks, sensei…

Her fists clenched, knuckles turning white as she stared out over the village. The weight of his failures pressed down on her, a burden she never asked for but one she could not escape. His benevolence had become a curse, his wisdom a blindfold that had allowed the rot to fester unchecked.

She had loved him, respected him. He was a father figure for so long. But when she'd truly needed him, he'd failed her. And now, failed Konoha. At present, all she could feel was the searing heat of anger. The anger that he had left her to pick up the pieces, to mend what he had let break. The anger that his choices had led to so much loss, so much pain.

It took her a while to relax her clenched fists, to hide the onslaught of bitterness behind a mask once more. This present-day Konoha did not know her. But she knew it.

It was hostile, but she had worked with poison enough to know how to tame all hostility. It was rotting, but she was a medic. She knew what to heal and what to cut out. It needed rebuilding, and she had the strength to destroy anyone who stepped in her way.

The next step was obvious enough—she had a few weeks before she was officially initiated as the Godaime, a few precious weeks to test the waters, to know what she was up against.

As she turned to head back inside, no one saw the predatory smirk that flashed across her face before disappearing. It was time to go on a hunt—finding friends was harder than finding enemies, after all.

#➤ D r a b b l e s ┊ ❛ In a blatant mind my thoughts have entwined ❜#From the Archives #Character Drabble #➤ M e m o i r s ┊ ❛ The once and forever bloom gone with my sins ❜#“Flames of Redemption” ; Tsunade #Tsunade #Nawaki #Minato #Sarutobi

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levandright · 9 months ago

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𝐏𝐇𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇 ‹𝟹

their favorite way to show their love for you is through — physical touchꜝꜝ

if you enjoyed reading this consider leaving a like or reblog ᐢ..ᐢ

pairing ⋆ ot7 enhypen x gn reader! ʬʬ content / warning(s) ⋆ fluff, est relationship ꕀ word count : 1082 ʬʬ go back to the start? ・ archive

ᐢ..ᐢ lev notes : i had a lot of fun making this! the whole wyll drabble is my advanced celebration for (almost) 50 followers!! hope you guys like this <3

𝗟𝗘𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗚

heesung loves to hold your waist. his hands will somehow always find a way there. but can you blame him? his hands fit perfectly around your waist, like pieces of a puzzle.

after a long day, your feeling overwhelmed and exhausted. heesung notices your quiet sighs and the way your shoulders seem to carry a little extra weight.

as you both stand in the hallway, he gently pulls you close, wrapping his arms around your waist and holding you snugly against him.

you relax into his embrace, resting your head on his shoulder as he whispers softly, “i’m here, okay? you don’t have to go through this alone.”

his hands rest lightly but securely on your waist, grounding you. in that moment, his steady warmth eases your worries, and you feel safe, surrounded by his love and support.

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗝𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗚

jay loves random touches, like brushing a stray hair away from your face or letting his hands linger on your cheek for a moment. these little actions convey so much affection and intimacy that words can't replicate.

you're sitting together in a sunlit park, surrounded by the gentle sounds of nature. as you share stories and laughter, you suddenly become quiet, lost in thought.

sensing your shift in mood, jay turns to you with a concerned look. instead of asking directly, he reaches over and lightly places his hand on yours, his thumb stroking your knuckles softly.

the warmth of his touch pulls you back from your thoughts, and you meet his eyes. in that simple gesture, he conveys his support and understanding without needing to say anything.

you squeeze his hand in response, a silent acknowledgment of your connection, feeling comforted by his presence and the care behind his touch.

𝗦𝗜𝗠 𝗝𝗔𝗘𝗬𝗨𝗡

jake loves to carry you. he finds the little noise you make when he picks you up to be absolutely adorable, so any chance he gets, he’ll try to lift you off your feet without warning just to hear your surprised reaction.

you’re walking home together after a movie, laughing and talking, when suddenly, it starts pouring rain.

without an umbrella, you both start to run, but you slip on a puddle and stumble.

jake quickly catches you, grinning, and before you can protest, he sweeps you up into his arms to keep your feet out of the water.

you laugh, playfully telling him to put you down, but jake just smiles and says, “not a chance—i’ve got you now.”

you wrap your arms around his neck as he carries you through the rain, both of you laughing as the world blurs around you.

in his arms, you feel like the only thing that matters, and he’s happy to keep you safe and close, rain and all.

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗛𝗢𝗢𝗡

sunghoon loves to pat your head. he thinks it’s the perfect balance of playful and intimate, and what more could he want than that?

you were trying your hand at making a new dessert—a mousse cake. the recipe called for eggs, sugar, all-purpose flour, cocoa powder, baking powder, and salt for the cake part.

you checked your ingredients and realized you were missing just the flour. you looked everywhere around the kitchen for it, but no luck you couldn’t find it.

the last place you didn't check was the high cabinets, and you couldn’t reach there—unless you wanted to climb onto the kitchen counter. you just cleaned it so doing that was a big no. so, you had to get help from sunghoon.

"hoon!" you called for your boyfriend, then you hear his familliar footsteps echo around your shared apartment.

"what does my little lady need from me this time?" he teases.

"can you reach the flour for me, please?" he grins at your request.

"why, of course~ anything for my lovely lady." he reached the container of flour with ease, and hands it over to you.

"thank you, hoon."

"anything for you," he says with a gentle smile, lifting his hand to your head and gently patting your hair.

𝗞𝗜𝗠 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗢𝗢

sunoo loves to cuddle you! just lying in bed cuddling is the perfect way to spend your morning with him.

it's the weekend again, you spent all night watching movies with sunoo. your little movie night ended up going untill 3 am.

you peacefully sleeping until the light coming from your windows end up waking you. you let out a sound of complain as you groggly open your eyes and move your arms to cover your face.

your sudden movement ended up waking your sleeping boyfriend.

"mhm, what're you doing?" sunoo's morning voice greeted you.

"the light from the windows woke me up," you mutter sleepily.

"come closer and get back to sleep."

you scoot closer to him, and sunoo wraps his arms around you, moving your head closer to his chest.

"now go back to sleep, i don't wanna get up yet."

𝗬𝗔𝗡𝗚 𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗪𝗢𝗡

jungwon loves to hold your hand! when you're on dates, he always make sure he's holding your hand while you both walk to your destination. even when you're both doing nothing in particular — just idling by on the couch or laying in bed together — his hands will always be intertwined with yours.

you and jungwon are laying on a couch in comfortable silence with hands intertwined. you're on your phone, scrolling through the internet, when you see something that reminds you of your cat-like boyfriend.

"jungwon, look!" you say excitedly, showing him a picture of a cute pair of kittens.

"they're adorable," he says smiling, rubbing the thumb of his on the back of yours.

"they are! reminds me of you," you say with a grin. "mhmm, we do look pretty similar"

"i'm cuter, though," he smirks.

𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗠𝗨𝗥𝗔 𝗥𝗜𝗞𝗜

riki loves to kiss your face. whether it's a quick peck on your forehead while you're tired or a light kiss on your cheeks when you aren't paying attention to him, he absolutely adores smothering your face with kisses.

you're busy looking around the snack aisle of the conveniece store, with riki behind you, pouting as he watches you ignore him— all your attention taken by the assortment of chips.

as you reach out to grab the bbq-flavored chips, you feel something soft make contact with your cheeks.

you turn to face your boyfriend, who looks at you with a cocky smile.

"can't have you ignoring me for some chips, can i?"

you roll your eyes playfully at his words. "well, now you have all my attention."

"as it should be," he says confidently.

taglist. @honeychocos

©levandright

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