#the intense despair that this could have been prevented

[vague-humanoid]

A Democratic delegate from California told CNN on Wednesday that he received a call from an aide working to reelect President Joe Biden that he interpreted as an effort to “shut down any further discussion” among Democratic delegates about replacing the president. 

The delegate, who spoke on the condition of anonymity to speak candidly about the call, said he spoke with an official who identified himself as part of the “Biden-Harris delegate operations” team, and said the official called to remind him of his responsibilities as “a Biden-Harris pledged delegate.”  

“His first question was, ‘I just want to make sure, do you understand what your obligations are as a Biden-Harris pledged delegate?’” the delegate said.

The delegate, who has also served as a delegate in previous Democratic conventions, said he told the campaign official he was aware of his obligations. 

“And then he goes, ‘Okay, we just want to make sure.’ And then he said something about, ‘Can I answer any other questions you have? Do I have your right phone number?’” the delegate recalled. “It was just odd.” 

The delegate said he’d spoken to another delegate from California who received a similar call from the same campaign staffer. He said the official told him he was reaching out to all the California Democratic delegates. But he found the call “unsettling” given that he’d shared concerns about Biden’s candidacy with other delegates. 

A request for comment to the Biden campaign was referred to a spokesperson for the Democratic National Convention who told CNN that while they didn’t have any information on the specific calls referenced by the delegate, “the Democratic National Convention Committee has been engaging regularly with state parties and their delegations in a variety of ways beginning in 2023.”

CNN’s Nikki Carvajal contributed to this report.

[nothingbutsweetwords]

ɴᴏʙᴏᴅʏ'ꜱ ꜱᴏɴ, ɴᴏʙᴏᴅʏ'ꜱ ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ

ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ!ɴɪᴇᴄᴇ

"...ᴛʜᴇɴ ꜰᴀʟʟ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ."

Word count: 3000.

Fandom: House of the Dragon.

Pairing: Aemond x Reader!Velaryon!Niece.

Warnings: Angst, mention of injury, medical procedures.

HOLDING — 6. Him.

The days had become an endless parade of maesters, and his company had been reduced to their constant presence and that of his mother. The few hours he managed to spend alone vanished into a pit of lethargy, lying on the cold bed, too drowsy to engage in any activity. Pain, a constant intruder, forced him to rely on the milk of the poppy for any relief, as small as it might be.

Several days passed since the grand maester, with a worried face, began to show signs of alarm at his condition. However, he was too weakened to interpret his look. His body, in a terrifying contrast, burned while his skin bristled with cold, and his left eye, swollen and red, struggled to heal despite the scar that crossed it progressing slowly.

“We need to remove the eye, your grace” the maester had informed his mother, in a grave and urgent tone. “The eye is becoming infected. We have tried everything to prevent it, but it is useless.”

He heard his mother’s sobs as she held his hand. He didn’t need to ask what had to be done; the answer was clear and painful.

“When will you do it?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

“As soon as possible. It’s a risky procedure, and there is a chance that…” He shook his head. “But if we don’t do it, the infection will keep growing, and there will be no turning back.”

“Very well” Alicent said, nodding as she braced herself, though her eyes were still full of tears. “My son is strong, he can endure this.”

“Yes, your grace.”

He started to see things that weren’t there, his mind distorting reality in a feverish delirium. He moved restlessly on the uncomfortable stretcher in the Grand Maester’s room. The old man gave him more milk of the poppy, mixed with other herbs in a steaming tea. As he drank it, he slowly sank into a restless sleep, not deep enough to drown out the suffering.

The pain of the original wound paled in comparison to the agony of the procedure. He was sure his screams could be heard in the farthest alley of King’s Landing, but he was unable to contain them. His chest broke with each cry, and time stretched into an endless torture. The intervention, a macabre dance of pain and resistance, seemed to last for eternal hours, and his body couldn’t withstand it, collapsing before it was all over.

The room was in dim light as he began to regain awareness. A dull pain throbbed on the left side of his face. The bandage pressed tightly against his skin, covering the empty space where his eye once was, while a persistent dizziness kept him on the verge of unconsciousness. The air, filled with the scent of different remedies, did little to mask the underlying stench of blood and suffering.

His mother was there, as she had been every day since the attack, sitting by his side with eyes red from crying. Noticing him stir, she took his hand tenderly, her voice breaking in whispered words of encouragement. However, he could barely process her words, his mind shrouded in a dense fog of confusion.

“You’re safe now, my son. The maesters say the procedure was a success” she said, trying to hold back tears. “The Mother has heard my prayers.”

With a blend of incredulity and resignation, his mother mentioned that the princess had opted to accompany them back to King’s Landing. Skeptical that a young lady would forsake her family to be there, and she had warned him of the risk it entailed, urging caution; if a brother could act thus, why not she? He lacked the strength and resolve to let her know she was wrong.

His mother did not fully understand the reason, ignorant of what had driven her to be there, but he did. He knew, deep within his being, that she had come for him. His heart, which had been steeped in despair, began to beat with the intensity of that first real encounter in the library so many moons ago.

However, the endless days without news of her had plunged him into anguish, making him doubt his own sanity. The conversations with his mother, which once had been a source of comfort, turned into a constant torment. Where was she? And why hadn’t she come?

Every movement was torture. Lifting his head from the pillow caused intense dizziness, and every deep breath sent stabs of pain through his skull. And if before the operation he had felt overwhelmed by the presence of the maesters, in that moment he was completely suffocated.

They came and went, insisting on the need to monitor his progress. Each day, they carefully removed the bandage, exposing the sensitive flesh to the dim light of the room. They applied ointments that burned like liquid fire and cleaned the wound, the sharp pain of these treatments a cruel reminder of his new reality. The fever was a persistent enemy, alternating between chills that made him shiver uncontrollably and sweats that soaked his clothes and sheets.

The bitter substance remained his ally, dulling the pain just enough to allow him to rest, yet never fully erasing the suffering.

Only when the sun set completely did they leave him in peace, with a jug full of the familiar infusion, and the promise to return at dawn.

And like every night, he opened the rear door, hoping to catch a glimpse of her face, waiting for her arrival, only to close it with the last ounce of his energy, enveloped in profound disappointment. Had it all been another cruel illusion, a fever-induced hallucination?

The following days were just like the ones before, a blend of pain and drowsiness. Sometimes, the pain became unbearable, and his cries filled the room, his strength sapped by the constant battle between torment and the sedatives that kept him in a fragile balance, barely afloat.

And although he deeply valued the newfound closeness with his mother—a relationship previously limited to meals and sermons—his heart desperately yearned for her. His mother's eyes, full of worry and love, were a great comfort, a light amidst the distress, but even that devotion did not ease her absence, one that could not be filled by anyone else.

Daily, as he shared moments with his mother, he hinted at his desire for visitors, without daring to name her directly. The response was always the same: if anyone wished to see him, she would let him know. But for now, he needed to conserve his strength and rest.

But that night, despite the pain that enveloped him like a blanket of thorns, a flash of happiness that had abandoned him in recent days—leaving him in his solitary room, steeped in deep melancholy—appeared out of nowhere, like a ray of sunshine piercing his dark reality. That night, against all odds, he saw her sweet face again, though marked by sadness and worry, she was there, present, tangible, an almost unreal vision in the somber castle.

In that moment, she was there, in his arms, whispering that she had tried to see him every day, that her desire to be by his side had never faltered. That confession was like a new anesthesia, a wave of immense calm that spread throughout his being. Helaena had heard his prayers, and his princess had responded to his call.

A silence full of meaning reigned in the room, his pain easing with each calm breath he heard from her. He didn't want to ruin the moment or exploit his weakened state and her compassion to obtain an easy forgiveness, but he needed to get it off his chest and ensure it wouldn’t be a stumbling block for them later.

"I'm sorry" he whispered, his voice trembling, slowly stopping his caresses in her soft hair.

"What are you sorry for, Aemond?" she asked softly, though her voice reflected the tension of someone who fears hearing the answer. He wondered for a moment if she was even aware, but he continued anyway.

"I said some things that... It was never my intention to insult you" he said, trying to find the right words to offer her a sincere apology. He felt her tense, almost imperceptibly. Her breath hitched for a few seconds at his confession, yet she did not move from his chest.

"It was a... mistake. And I do not blame you for it, you were just trying to defend yourself."

"I shouldn't have..." the remorse weighing down every word.

"I know it won't happen again" she said, interrupting him in a manner that brooked no argument. "Let's not talk about this anymore" her voice a bit firmer, though her sweetness remained. He could do nothing but accept, though he still felt guilty.

The room returned to silence, though somewhat more tense. He resumed his gentle caresses on her disheveled curls, each movement of his hand releasing more of her typical sweet scent of roses, easing his tension, and helped him relax. A few minutes passed before her breathing became slower and more regular, falling into a deep sleep, and dragging him along with her.

He briefly wondered why his mother had forbidden her visits, but soon dismissed any speculation. He knew she believed she was acting in his best interest, thinking he needed rest and peace, not knowing that a single glance at her face would alleviate his pain more effectively than a hundred doses of the best remedy ever could.

That night, with the princess nestled against his chest and her arms holding him with infinite tenderness, he felt hope blossom again in his heart. The darkness completely dissipated with each synchronized breath, replaced by the warm certainty that, no matter what, he would not be alone. And the sweet promise of a better dawn arose anew.

Over time, the sharp pain began to subside. A sensation of emptiness and pressure appeared in the place where his eye once was. The fever slowly abated, and the maesters seemed more optimistic in their assessments. The wound was healing, slowly but steadily, and his body started to regain some of its former strength.

His body, weakened by fever, rest, and interventions, required careful and constant rehabilitation, the maesters had said. Walking, something he once did without thinking, became a monumental challenge. At first, even getting out of bed was a test of endurance. His legs, once strong and agile, now seemed weak and shaky, as if they might fail under the weight of his own body. The maesters offered him a cane for support, which he proudly refused, and his mother was always nearby, ready to hold him if he faltered.

Every step was a struggle against dizziness and lack of balance. Without the vision in his left eye, his perception was distorted. He had to do recommended exercises, such as walking in a straight line and performing slow, controlled movements. These sessions, though exhausting, began to strengthen his muscles and restore some of his lost confidence.

However, physical recovery was only part of the battle. Days turned into weeks, and another kind of hurt gave him no respite. 

The weight of loss continued to crush his spirit. Afternoons were the worst, as darkness began to fall, enveloping him, and the loneliness became unbearable. Everyone else was training, attending classes, fulfilling their duties, while he remained there, a prisoner. He would close his eye, wishing he could go back to being his old self, or at least imagine it, but the void remained, relentless and omnipresent, and every time he passed by his mirror, he avoided looking at his reflection, fearing to face the image of his own mutilated face.

Returning to combat training was an even greater challenge. The first time he held his sword, he felt a mix of relief and irritation. The familiar weight of the weapon in his hand was comforting, but every movement felt clumsy and unbalanced. Exercises that he once performed with grace were now arduous and erratic.

Criston Cole, the young guard with infinite patience, became his guide on this difficult journey. He taught him new training methods to compensate for the loss of his eye. Balance exercises were essential, standing on one foot, shifting weight from one foot to the other, and slow movements with the sword, all aimed at strengthening his stability.

They worked on improving his depth perception, something crucial for any swordsman. He was made to practice with fixed targets, the straw dummies. Cole would have him approach and retreat until he could better judge distances. At first, his strikes were imprecise, and his frustration grew with each failure. But slowly, with patience and determination, he began to improve.

The first sparring sessions were exhausting. Each bout was a bitter confrontation with his new reality, often ending with him on the ground, his pride as wounded as his body. However, she said that each fall was also a lesson, an opportunity to learn and adapt, and a victory on his path to recovery. He began to adjust his movements, relying more on his instinct and the feel of the sword moving through the air.

Despite everything, the constant presence of his mother, the nightly visits from his princess, and the tireless efforts of the maesters began to bear fruit. The scars, both visible and invisible, were now a part of him, hardening his spirit, and marking the beginning of a new stage in his life. A stage that, although painful and full of challenges, was also a testament to his resilience and ability to survive even the hardest trials.

He still remembered the night of the accident with unsettling clarity. The pain, the sudden darkness, and the fear that had wrapped around him like a suffocating shroud. Yet beyond the despair, he had found a new resolve. He would not be defined by it.

Over time, his body began to respond better to training. His balance improved, and although he would never regain full vision, his perception sharpened. He learned to use the field of vision he had left more effectively, moving with renewed caution and precision.

Although his movements still showed signs of his arduous journey, he had regained enough skill to face an opponent with confidence. Finally, the day came when he felt strong enough for a real practice duel. Aegon was his opponent, who seemed indifferent to the fact that he was still recovering. Everyone watched with expectant hearts. 

The duel was intense, each strike resonating with the force of his determination. He lost, but he did not feel defeated. He had proven, especially to himself, that he could still fight, that he could still be the warrior he had promised to be. His loss, far from being a sign of weakness, had become a symbol of his strength and perseverance.

However, his life did not revolve solely around the sword. There was a constant, warm presence that filled all his nights and, slowly, his days as well.

They had resumed their visits to the library. She had encouraged him to take up reading again. When she noticed his eye beginning to tire, she would take his book into her hands, setting her own aside, and read aloud. He could not complain about that, as her sweet voice turned any book into a masterpiece full of colors and nuances. 

He had also helped her immerse herself in the world of their mother tongue, High Valyrian. He was pleased to say that his princess was as intelligent as she was beautiful, learning with a speed he never had in his time. 

But their encounters in the library were limited to that, as the shadow of his guard, by order of his mother, never left him except to sleep, and they couldn’t help but feel withdrawn, observed. Now, in the comfort of his room, in the solitude of the night and away from any prying eyes, they could open up. They were under the covers, each in their place, facing each other, whispering their confidences.

“Your nameday is coming up” she said, looking at his face, still covered by a bandage. The maesters had provided him with a patch, but he still couldn’t get used to the discomfort of the hard material, which was irritating against his scar and didn’t completely cover it. So, during the nights, he still required the soft linen bandage. The maesters had not dared to ask why he didn’t just sleep without anything.

At first, it had caused him some inhibition that she looked at his face so attentively, as if memorizing every feature. He used to lie on his back to try to spare her any glimpse of the left side of his face, and she never questioned him nor asked otherwise. It was he who, over time, realized that there was no safer place than there, with the princess who had set everything aside to be with him and accompany him, though he still wasn’t ready to reveal himself completely.

“Yes, it's true” he said, remembering. His mind had been too pained and preoccupied. He had come to think that he would never get better or that it was something he would never overcome, so any form of celebration hadn’t even crossed his mind. But now, with his princess in front of him, his physical wound healed, and his gait almost restored, the idea began to excite him.

“I’m sure your father will throw a grand feast in your honor, to celebrate you and your recovery.” He almost laughed at the thought, certainly far from reality.

“I do not believe so. The king has never hosted a feast for me” he replied softly, and though he still felt some sadness over the strained relationship with his father, he set it aside. “Besides, I’d prefer something more modest.”

“I promise I will make it special” she vowed, and he believed every word. What he couldn't bring himself to express was that each day with her presence beside him was special.

@callsignwidow @helaenaluvr @purplegardenwhispers @scarletbedlam @squidscottjeans @woodlandwrites @oh-you-mean-me @fics-i-love-and-recommend

[archfeyreveries]

He will not be denied

Raphael had finally claimed the Crown of Karsus, a relic of unimaginable power, though it was not by Tav's hand. Her scornful refusal to aid him in his pursuit still burned deep within him, a slight he would never allow to go unanswered. Tav had dismissed and betrayed him as if he were a mere nuisance—a grave mistake she would soon come to regret. Raphael was not one to be cast aside lightly. By all the seething flames of Hell, he would not be denied. Pairing: Raphael x F!Tav Content: NSFW | BDSM | Humiliation kink | Rough | Dirty talk | Creampie | TW: Kind of non-con Author's note: My first smut on this cursed website and fandom. Hahaha I hope it doesn’t feel too rushed; I aimed as an exercise to keep it concise, wrapping everything up in a short, intense story (three chapters max). Enjoy and I do appreciate feedback. <3

Raphael, ever the cunning manipulator, devised a plan to isolate Tav from her allies. Employing his most potent illusion magic, he crafted a series of convincing visions that preyed upon Tav’s deepest fears and insecurities. Over the course of several days, Tav began to notice subtle but unsettling changes in her companions—whispers behind her back, furtive glances, and unexplained absences that chipped away at her trust.

The final blow came when Tav overheard a conversation, seemingly between her most trusted allies, where they coldly discussed handing her over to Raphael in exchange for their own desires. The illusion was flawless; their voices dripped with deceit and cruel calculation, leaving Tav’s heart shattered and her resolve hardened.

Convinced of their betrayal, Tav felt she had no choice but to confront Raphael on her own terms, hoping to strike a deal or end the threat once and for all. Fueled by anger and despair, she stormed into his lair, determined to face him. But the moment she crossed the threshold, the illusion unraveled, revealing the bitter truth: her companions had never betrayed her—everything had been a lie, a meticulously crafted trap woven by Raphael. And as the horrifying realization dawned, Tav found herself immobilized by chains and bound by blood to the devil.

That was over a week ago.

She struggled against her restraints, her thoughts a maelstrom of self-loathing and fury, until a familiar scent wafted through the chamber—a sickening blend of sulfur, musk, and the sweet tang of cherries. The master of the house had arrived, relishing the sight of Tav bound in chains, savoring every moment of her torment.

"Why the sour mood, my dear little lamb? I see you’ve found yourself in quite the predicament. Perhaps I could offer a remedy?"

Tav glared at the devil, her wrists and ankles bound in thick, cold chains that dug into her flesh, preventing even the slightest movement. She was immobilized, utterly at his mercy—a fact that filled her with equal parts rage and fear.

"You’re the reason I’m in this predicament" she spat, her voice laced with cold contempt.

"How ungracious" Raphael huffed, crossing his arms with a mock pout. "I wasn’t the one who chose to stray from the path. You had every opportunity to make a different choice, and yet here you are—bound, chained, entirely at my mercy. Did you truly believe I needed your help to claim what is rightfully mine? How could you ever be so delightfully foolish?"

Tav’s eyes narrowed, her voice dripping with bitter defiance. "If you're going to kill me, get it over with. I won’t give you the satisfaction of tormenting me."

"Torment you?" Raphael laughed, a deep rumble from his throat, "I'm not going to torment you, dearest. You have the distinct honor of being the first to serve the Archdevil Supreme of this era —body and soul. I chose you, and you shall serve me well."

Raphael stepped closer, his clawed finger tracing along Tav's jawline with deliberate slowness. She shuddered under his touch, but it wasn’t fear that coursed through her—no, it was something far more insidious, a dark anticipation that gnawed at her resolve.

"Do not fret" Raphael murmured, his voice a low, seductive purr. "I’ll be gentle… if you behave. As I said, this is an honor."

He stepped back, his wings fluttering behind him, and his tail swaying lazily as if in rhythm with some infernal melody only he could hear.

"Kneel" he commanded, his tone leaving no room for defiance.

"I will not—" Tav began, but before she could finish, her legs buckled beneath her. She collapsed to the floor, her knees slamming against the cold stone, the chains clinking ominously as her limbs were pulled taut against her sides.

"Do not defy me" Raphael spoke softly, yet his words carried a weight that pressed down on her like a physical force. His hands remained clasped behind his back, a sly grin curling across his lips. "Good girl."

Tav’s eyes blazed with fury and confusion. "What have you done to me?!" she cried out, her voice echoing off the walls.

"I did nothing" Raphael replied, crouching down to meet her gaze, his tail swaying with lazy arrogance. "You did this to yourself. Your actions brought you here, to your knees, where you belong—begging for forgiveness, for mercy." He chuckled, the sound a cruel mockery that cut through her like a blade. "But I am not in the business of mercy."

"I don’t care" Tav hissed, her voice trembling with suppressed rage. "I will not beg. I will not break. Do whatever you want with me."

Raphael’s eyes gleamed with dark amusement. "Oh, but I will. I will do everything, and more. I will break you, and you will come to love every moment of it. You will be mine. All mine. Mine alone."

With a snap of his fingers, the chains around her ankles vanished, and Tav’s legs moved forward of their own accord.

"Stand. Do not move." Raphael ordered.

Tav rose to her feet, her hands still bound behind her back, her body trembling with a mix of fear, anger, and a growing, unwelcome desire. Raphael stepped closer, his presence overwhelming, and grabbed her hair roughly, his sharp nails digging into her scalp.

"Open your mouth. Wider. Wider" he commanded, his voice low and menacing.

Tav obeyed, her jaw dropping as her lips parted, her tongue visible, wet and trembling. Raphael’s gaze darkened with lust as he licked his lips hungrily. Without warning, he spat on her face, the warm saliva splattering across her mouth and cheek.

Tav recoiled, her nose wrinkling in disgust, but she could do nothing—her body remained frozen in place, her mind reeling from the humiliation and the dark, twisted pleasure that coursed through her veins. His cock twitched with her reaction.

"Now," Raphael murmured, his fingers tightening in her hair, pulling her closer as he gazed down at her with a mixture of amusement and dark desire, "Lick it off your pretty face."

Tav hesitated, her defiance flickering in her eyes like a dying flame, but she could feel her resolve slipping away, crumbling under the weight of his command. Slowly, she extended her tongue, tracing the path of his spit across her flushed cheek, each movement a reluctant act of submission. Her heartbeat quickened, echoing in her ears as her skin burned with humiliation.

Raphael’s chuckle was a low, rumbling purr, his gaze never leaving her face as she continued. "That’s it, my sweet" he whispered, his voice laced with satisfaction. "Savor it"

Tav’s movements became more deliberate, her tongue sweeping across her skin with increasing confidence, lapping up every trace of his saliva. She could feel his eyes on her, drinking in her submission with a hunger that made her pulse race. As she flicked her tongue across her lips, tasting the remnants of his essence, a shiver ran down her spine.

"Good" Raphael purred, his hand releasing her hair to caress her cheek, his touch deceptively gentle. "You learn fast, mouse. Now, let us see how much more you’re willing to do to please me."

CHAPTER 2 >

[doliacuddles]

SHADOWS OF A MARRIAGE.

𝖶𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖶𝖾𝖻𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝖣𝖾𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇.

𝖧𝗎𝗆𝖺𝗇! 𝖠𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋 𝗑 𝖱𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10

❝In our gazes lie the secrets of a love that never had its chance, trapped in a silence that screams the tragedy of what could have been and never was.❞

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆:

𝖳𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝗅𝗂𝖼𝗂𝗍 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗌, 𝗂𝗇𝖼𝗅𝗎𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝖼𝗋𝗂𝗉𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗎𝗇𝖻𝖺𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾𝖽 𝗉𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗋 𝖽𝗒𝗇𝖺𝗆𝗂𝖼𝗌. 𝖠𝖽𝖽𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒, 𝗂𝗍 𝖺𝖽𝖽𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗌 𝖽𝖾𝗅𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝗉𝗂𝖼𝗌 𝗌𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝖺𝗌 𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗂𝗉𝗎𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇, 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗋𝖺𝖼𝖾𝗉𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗌. 𝖨𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝗒 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖻𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝗂𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌. 𝖱𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝖼𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝖽𝗏𝗂𝗌𝖾𝖽.

The following days blurred into a whirlwind of intense emotions. Each time Alastor returned from work, moans echoed through all the rooms, their echoes reverberating on the walls like a macabre reminder of your growing dependence. Their encounters were a frantic dance of uncontrolled desire, mixed with a palpable desperation that kept you on the brink of madness. The scorching passion he displayed made you feel even more trapped in his intricate web, like a fly in the spiderweb of a cunning predator. But paradoxically, that same passion ignited a fierce determination in you: you had to keep his attention at all costs, no matter the price.

As night fell, when Alastor finally succumbed to the embrace of sleep, you would get up stealthily, carefully moving to avoid waking him. The kitchen had become your secret sanctuary, a refuge where you could prepare your Rue tea without his watchful eyes discovering you. The bitter and penetrating aroma of the infusion filled the house, a testimony to your desperate attempt to avoid a pregnancy that would change everything, a constant reminder of the fragility of your situation and the fears that kept you on edge.

You knew your decision was selfish, but the fear of losing Alastor's attention was stronger, burning like a voracious flame in your chest. Each sip of the tea was a sharp reminder of your intentions, a silent and desperate act of rebellion against the relentless fate he was trying to impose on you. With each gulp, you felt a mixture of guilt and determination, a dark dance between submission and resistance, all while his dominant shadow loomed over your existence, stalking your secrets.

Every day, Alastor noticed with increasing intensity the unsettling changes. Confusion gripped him with each failed attempt to conceive, a burden that became more overwhelming over time. He spent long hours distracted at work, his mind trapped in a whirlwind of dark thoughts and silent prayers. The certainty that his sins had condemned him took root in his soul, plunging him into growing despair and anguish that consumed him from deep within.

"What is preventing us from creating life?" he whispered through clenched teeth, his vibrant voice laden with soul-cutting pain. Every time you approached, his tired eyes scrutinized you, seeking answers in your every gesture. Though his yearning burned intensely, a hint of impotence tinged every shared moment, every touch of his hands on your skin.

One night, Alastor felt you get out of bed, fully waking him just minutes after your departure. Confused, he decided to follow you silently, with steps as stealthy as a predator stalking its prey. He observed as you made your way to the kitchen under the dim light that revealed your figure bent over the kettle, the steam from the boiling water rising in ghostly spirals. His eyes narrowed, trying to decipher your intentions as the scene unfolded before him.

Noticing the Rue plant on the table, his lips tightened in a mixture of incredulity and barely contained fury. He knew very well what that meant; his mother had warned him several times about Rue's effects: its abortifacient and contraceptive properties. He approached cautiously, his steps barely audible in the stillness of the night. Finally, he stopped right behind you, his imposing presence filling the space. His voice emerged low but loaded with a barely disguised threat.

"What are you doing?" he murmured, his icy tone resonating with palpable tension.

Fear flooded you abruptly, like a cold wave that completely paralyzed you. Your hands trembled uncontrollably, and the glass you were desperately clutching slipped inevitably from your fingers, crashing loudly to the floor. You turned abruptly, and there he was, Alastor, with his dark, penetrating eyes reflecting a storm of unleashed emotions: confusion, anger, and a deep sense of betrayal.

"Why?" His voice cracked slightly, revealing the vulnerability he had tried to hide behind his mask of dominance. "Why are you doing this?"

Words crowded in your throat, a tangle of truths with no escape. The raw reality, like a sharp blade, cut through the space between you, and in that instant, you felt the crushing weight of your own actions. Alastor advanced towards you with a mix of contained fury and palpable sadness, his gaze piercing you as if trying to unravel each of your darkest secrets.

With a swift movement, he grabbed your arm and pulled you towards him, his eyes shining with an intensity that seemed to set the air between you on fire. "Did you think you could deceive me?" he whispered, his voice dripping with venom. "Did you believe this would remain hidden forever?"

Under his firm grip, a chill ran down your spine as fear and guilt intertwined within you. The words barely escaped your trembling lips: "Alastor… I… I didn't want to lose you."

His laughter echoed in the room, a cold, humorless echo. "Lose me?" he asked sarcastically, pushing you roughly against the table. His face approached yours with calculated cruelty. "You are pathetic," he murmured with a voice that seemed to whisper danger. "A useless and pathetic creature, whose only purpose is to satisfy me. I am willing to do whatever it takes to ensure you understand and never attempt such follies again."

In the kitchen, the silence became almost palpable, interrupted only by the echo of your agitated breathing. Alastor released you abruptly, his gaze an intense mix of fury and pain that chilled you to the bone. Before stepping away, he left one last warning in a cutting voice.

"This is not over. The repercussions of your actions have yet to unfold."

With a determined gesture, he moved towards the Rue plants and threw them furiously into the trash bin. He glanced at you sideways over his shoulder, a silent but relentless invitation to follow him back to the room.

Intellectual property of @doliacuddles.

𝖳𝖺𝗀𝗌; @catticora @mo-0-o @alastorthirsty @its-a-dam-blue-brick @speedycoffeedelight @eris-norwega

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Blizzard

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Dark Donna

Word count: 4,808

Summary: You shouldn't have walked in the middle of a blizzard

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open, I'm waiting for yours!!! I love you all!!!

“Uh, oh...” You whispered as a cold current ran through your body. You knew it wasn't the best day for hiking, but you couldn't miss the opportunity that this snowy landscape offered you. You had already been to many places, but none like that strange village. The mystery that seemed to surround those villagers... As sullen and mysterious as the snowy landscape that surrounded them.

It was a perfect place to walk through the snow, if it weren't for the fact that a blizzard seemed to be coming.

“I should have listened to that old woman...” You sighed when the snow began to hurt your eyes. “Well, it would be better to turn around and go back to the… Oh, shit…”

You turned around, being completely sure that you had followed that path, the one that led directly to a beautiful waterfall that was dying to be captured by your camera.

You didn't want to admit it. No matter how hard you looked at the trees, you couldn't tell if you had passed by them or not.

The blizzard raged mercilessly, the wind buffeting your body as you made your way through the snow. And yes, it could be worse. It seemed there was no better time for your little adventure than a few hours before nightfall. Your determination to photograph a beautiful sunset in the mountains was going to be your downfall.

“Okay… Okay… (Y/N), you screwed it up,” you said while trying in vain to make a call on your cell phone. Useless. You had been without signal since you arrived in the village. You didn't know why you thought it would be different in the middle of that frozen wasteland.

The light was becoming less intense and your steps were increasingly erratic. You could be walking in circles and not even realize it.

The snow cut your face like blades. You didn't want to despair, it wasn't the first time you got lost, but certainly, you started to give up.

“Come on, come on...” You said to yourself, continuing to walk awkwardly. Noises similar to the howls of a wolf made you not want to stop. “No… I don’t… Want…To be… Your food…”

You walked a few more steps until the ground gave way under your feet. It was your end.

You slid down some rocks, hitting yourself several times in the process until the fluffy snow cushioned your fall.

“Oh...” You gasped, checking that you hadn't broken anything. “Shit, shit, shit…”

The darkness limited your field of vision, but you could hear the water from that waterfall. You clumsily stood up, brushing the snow off your clothes, preventing your body from freezing early.

“Well, that was close,” you murmured when you realized you were near to a cliff. When you looked up, you could make out something in the middle of that landscape.

It looked like a house, or rather, a mansion, you couldn't tell, the night was darkening. The snow continued to cut your face mercilessly and, although you couldn't see where you were, you thought that that building was your best option.

“Wow... Who lives here? It's impressive,” you sighed when you were close enough for the snow to stop being a hindrance to your vision. “Hello?” You asked out loud, opening the metal fence that delimited the property.

Nothing, the sound of the wind was the only thing that predominated in that place. It would be better to get a little closer.

“Brrr” You shook your body when the small roof protected you from the cold. It looked like an old, abandoned house, but you had no choice but to knock on the door. “Hello?! Anyone there?! Hello!?”

You called out quite loudly and yelled loud enough so that the wind didn't drown out your voice.

“Maybe there's no one here...” You said trembling, with your body freezing little by little.

Behind a window you could see a halo of light, similar to what fire makes when it reflects on glass. You were not alone. Someone lived in that house.

“Hey! Hey! Hello!? Please!” You shouted, hitting the door even harder. “I'm lost and I think, I think I'm going to freeze to death! Hello?!”

Nothing

You were about to give up, looking around for alternative shelter when an ominous creak reached your ears.

One of the old doors opened little by little, letting out the dim light from a candle. The person holding it made you gulp.

It looked like a woman, dressed entirely in black. The light of the candle danced on her face, or rather, on the black veil that covered it. But there was no time to study that woman. You were about to turn into an icicle.

“He, hello...” You stammered, noticing that woman's gaze on you. “Sorry to bothering but… I, I got lost in the mountains. I fell down a small ravine and… Well, the blizzard caught me and…”

For some reason, that almost ghostly presence gave you a certain feeling of discomfort.

“Ahem,” you cleared your throat. The mysterious woman said nothing. You started to get a bit nervous. “I… I, I was wondering if…”

“Who are you? Stupid stranger!” A shrill voice made you take a step back. It had not come from the woman with the veil, but rather came from a strange and disturbing doll that she woman was holding with her other hand.

“What?” You asked confused. Maybe you were already freezing and starting to get delirious. “Please, please, let me take shelter from the storm, I... I think, I think I'm going to freeze.”

Doll and woman looked at each other in a disturbing scene. It was very strange, but you weren't ready to choose another option. The night was already closed and that was your only ticket to not freeze to death.

Luckily, after a few seconds of strange tension, the lady in black moved away from the door, giving a slight nod for you to enter.

“Oh, thank you, thank you very much,” you said, clasping your hands and quickly fleeing the cold.

The house was gloomy, dark, barely illuminated by a couple of candles on a table. It was a majestic house, which surely belonged to a majestic woman. When you finished studying your surroundings, you looked at the lady, who closed the door with a bang that disturbed the strange tranquility of that place.

“Oh, is that a ventriloquist doll?” You asked curiously, looking at that strange puppet. The lady didn't seem to want to move, you could only see that she was breathing like any mortal. That was a good sign, you supposed.

“My name is Angie, you stupid meddler,” the doll protested, making a fuss over her owner. You laughed, thinking this was some kind of joke from that strange woman.

“Hey, you're very good...” You said amused, cautiously approaching the doll. “Hello, Angie, I'm (Y/N)” you said in a childish voice, shaking the puppet's hand, a hand that it immediately moved away.

“But what are you doing, stupid?” The doll protested, making its owner to look at it.

Well, at least you weren't freezing to death, and that you weren't going to get bored.

“I... I appreciate you letting me in, um... Can you tell me your name?” You asked after a few more moments of tense silence.

There was no response, the lady simply walked past you while that puppet turned its head to keep looking at you.

“Donna,” a hoarse voice murmured, this time, coming from the mourning lady. You sighed in relief knowing that you weren't going to have to communicate with that doll.

“Donna, oh, okay, what, it’s a pretty name,” you said nervously, following closely the lady, who opened the door into the house, towards a living room that had a lit fireplace.

“Oh, fire...” You said, eager for any source of heat, approaching that fireplace and extending your arms towards it, letting the heat soothe your almost blue hands. “Wow, I thought my hands were going to freeze.”

“I don't like her, Donna...” You heard the doll whisper, or, well, you thought it was the doll. You couldn't help but frown.

“Leave her be, Angie. She seems harmless,” the lady murmured, leaving the doll on an armchair.

What kind of woman was that? Did she talk to herself? Would it have been better to freeze?

“Excuse me, did you say something?” You asked confused.

 That woman, Donna turned to you and shook her head, leaving the candle along with others on a table.

“Okay... I, I'll leave right away, as soon as the storm stops,” you said, starting to feel too trapped in those rickety walls. Donna nodded.

“I don't think it’s going to stop soon,” she whispered, approaching the fireplace and removing a pot of boiling water from it.

“I won't be a bother, I promise,” you said, stopping shivering from the cold and enjoying the pleasant warmth of the fire.

“Of course you won’t be!” A shrill voice, coming from the armchair where the doll rested shouted. It couldn't have been Angie, no way.

“Angie...” The lady sighed, approaching the chair. “Behave”.

You swallowed again, not knowing if the heat of the fire was enough to make you want to stay.

“Excuse her, she doesn't like strangers,” the woman told you in a soft but hoarse tone, as if she wasn't used to talking to anyone. Living in a place like this, it didn't seem strange to you. “Sit down.”

You obeyed without saying anything, going towards the chair she had indicated and exploring that house with your eyes.

“Oh, thank you,” you said, taking off your backpack.

“Tea?” She offered you, with a voice that betrayed a certain nervousness. Although she seemed kind, something gave you a bad feeling.

“Oh, of course, if it's hot...” You said, hiding the fear you started to feel.

“Of course it's hot,” she responded sharply, making you shift in your chair. “Tea has to be hot.”

“Yes, yes, of course...” You murmured, bowing your head in an apologetic gesture, gratefully taking the cup she offered you.

The lady in black sat in front of you, watching you. You didn't know what she was looking for in your gaze exactly, but the feeling of not being able to see her face was starting to make you uncomfortable.

“I... Well...” You said nervous because of the silence, because of the sound of the wind being the protagonist in that dark room. “Your house is impressive, Donna.”

“Thank you,” she responded, nodding pleased at the compliment.

“It must be quite calm. To live here, I mean,” you commented curiously, bringing up the most absurd topic of conversation you could think of.

“I like the tranquility,” Donna stated, drinking from her cup, slightly moving the veil away from her face. You had to make a superhuman effort not to look.

“I see... It's, it's all quite dark.”

“There is no electric power. The storm broke it” the woman explained, to which you nodded. Thank goodness, you thought you had entered the tunnel of horror.

“Oh, wow,” you said, feigning empathy. You couldn't help but feel very curious about this woman, but also a bit afraid of her.

“I'm sure you're hungry. I can't offer you anything to eat. The elevator that goes to the kitchen doesn't work,” she said passively, as if your presence was not pleasant for her, but nevertheless, trying to sound… Kind.

“Do you have an elevator in your house? Wow, what a luxury,” you said amused, in a pathetic attempt at joking.

“My parents built it like that,” Donna explained, getting nervous for some reason you didn't know.

“Oh, sure... Where are they?” You asked with good intentions.

“They're dead,” Donna said, slamming the cup on the table hard, making you panic.

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to... Oh, well,” you said embarrassed. You couldn't have a worse day. “I better keep quiet.”

“Yeah, shut up!” Angie screamed.

When you looked at the couch, the doll was still as limp as it seemed.

“Angie...” Donna whispered, with a severe, reprimanding tone. Time to change the subject. You didn't want to think that the doll had spoken for itself.

“I have energetic bars in my backpack. They're not a big deal, but at least it's something... Do you want one?” You asked, using your well-known people skills, that ability of yours to talk to anyone, no matter how strange.

“Energetic what?” She asked, curious.

You took two out of your backpack and offered her one, which she examined carefully.

“Yes, well... It's like eating newspaper but on the label it says that they are apple flavour...”  You said amused, devouring yours.

She hesitated, but she tried out of curiosity.

“The one who made this has not tasted an apple in his life,” the lady said disgusted, but with a funny tone. “But thank you… (Y/N)?”

“Oh yeah, (Y/N), that’s my name,” you said, covering your filled mouth with your hand. “And don't thank me, thank you for let me in.”

“Normally I would let you freeze to death, but I was in a good mood today,” she said passively. You laughed, thinking it was a joke, although it definitely didn't sound like one. You didn't want to ask if it was a joke either, you were a bit scared.

“Well...” You murmured, after a few minutes of horrible silence. “How's that storm going?” You asked, looking towards one of the windows. You wanted to think that you could get out of there, that the blizzard had subsided, but it wasn't true.

“You can stay the night if you want,” Donna offered, getting up from her chair.

“No, it's not necessary,” you said, perhaps too hastily. “I don't want to abuse your kindness.”

“Well, if you prefer to freeze to death...” She said with a low, almost threatening tone.

You looked at the window again. The blizzard seemed unbeatable, tireless. That house, that woman. It was all disturbing, but it was better than freezing to death.

“I... I... It's okay,” you said, sighing defeated. “The truth is that I’m tired.”

“Follow me,” she said dryly, picking up the candle from the table again.

You obeyed, putting the backpack on your shoulder.

Walking slowly, you reached the hall again and began to climb the stairs, trying not to lose the light of the candle that Donna was carrying.

As you went up, a portrait of a woman caught your attention. She was beautiful, so beautiful. So much for an irreverent and shameless girl like you.

“Wow, she is... Don't tell me that you’re that beautiful woman,”  you said jokingly, but at the same time, seriously.

Donna paused, slowly turning her head to look at you. She didn't respond, she continued walking.

You better shut up, (Y/N)

“Here. You can stay here,” she said dryly, as if she were annoyed by something. Had that comment offended her? She must have been flattered by your compliment.

“Thank you, Donna,” you sighed, leaving the backpack on the bed in that small room.

“Good night,” she said, lighting a candle with hers and disappearing like a ghost.

“Good...” You said, before the door closed with a loud bang. “…Night…”

You sighed and shrugged, digging through your backpack, locating your diary. Just a few things that worth writing in that small notebook happened in your adventures but this was one of them.

“Who are you?” You asked the quick sketch you made of the lady and her doll. “The truth is that I am curious…”

Even though your journey through the mountains had left you completely exhausted, you couldn't sleep a wink. The sound of the storm shook the window panes and the surrounding trees cast dark shadows on the wall.

“There were no houses in the village... I had to find the one with the cursed doll,” you huffed, covering yourself with the sheets and squeezing your eyes tightly.

You immediately regretted eating that stupid energetic bar. Your mouth was crying out for some water. You couldn't sleep with that infernal thirst. You had two options: let your throat go dry, or get up.

“Okay... Tunnel of horror, here I come,” you whispered, making the most rational decision.

You took the small candle that Donna lit and opened the door as discreetly as possible. It was in vain, as an ominous creak gave you away.

“Water... Water...” You murmured, illuminating the dark hallway.

Luckily, there was a bathroom right in front of the room.

“That's better,” you said satisfied, having quenched your thirst.

The most logical and normal thing would have been to return to your room, but of course, you were not a normal person, much a less logical one.

Curious, you looked over the railing, hoping, you didn't know what, to see something. The small glow of the fireplace could be distinguished in the distance. Slowly, you approached the stairs.

Curiosity killed the cat.

Slowly, extinguishing the candle, you went down a couple of steps, stopping at that portrait.

“Surely if I had you in front of me right now I would already be trying to flirt with you...” You whispered seductively. “And if that doll wasn't there...” You said later, making a disgusted face at the puppet.

Without taking your eyes off the portrait, you continued down until you reached the hall again. There, you walked slowly to the door, peeking out.

Curiosity killed the... Yes, shut up now, brain

Nothing, there were no signs of life in the room. That doll wasn't even there. Well, you had free rein to explore, or so you thought.

As soon as you entered the room, you froze in place.

The fire illuminated a figure curled up on a sofa. Donna, without a doubt.

She seemed asleep and next to her, that inert puppet.

Stay away. That's what the rational side of your mind told you. Did it have to be repeated that you were not rational?

You took one step, then another, until you were close enough.

“Oh, my God,” you sighed, putting your hand over your mouth to avoid being discovered. The black veil had disappeared. That woman's face was beautiful, but a huge scar covered part of it. She was the lady in the portrait and that's why she covered herself.

That didn't make her seem any less beautiful to you. What now? Are you going to flirt with her?

The woman was sleeping peacefully with a book in her hand. You had no intention of bothering her, nor of continuing to explore. Running back to the bed to draw her beauty was your priority.

“Donna, Donna! The stranger, the stranger!” The doll screeched, causing you to fall to the ground in fright. There was no longer any doubt. The doll had a life of its own.

Of course, the lady woke up scared, looking for the source of the scandal.

“What are you doing?” Donna asked when she noticed your presence. Her single eye hardened, glowing with rage.

“No, nothing...” You said, retreating, crawling on the floor.

“She's mean, Donna! She was spying on you!” Angie accused you, which made you shake even more.

“What? I don't... why is it alive?” You stammered, overwhelmed by all those sudden emotions.

“I shouldn't have let you in,” the woman hissed, walking towards you, with the most dangerous look you've ever seen, with that beauty overshadowed by rage.

“Wait, wait...” You said, crawling on the floor.  “I didn't mean to bother you, What is this doll?”

“Shut up,” the woman said, clenching her fists on either side of her hips.

“Sorry, sorry... Don't kill me,” you begged pathetically, covering your face with your hands. “It wasn't my intention. Besides, I don't know why you even cover yourself. You are beautiful.”

You were telling the truth, but it clearly sounded like a shabby attempt to get that woman to take pity on you.

“Don't think you're going to get away by lying to me, (Y/N)...” Donna threatened, getting closer and closer to you.

“Wa, wait, wait. I'm not lying, really. You are, you are beautiful. I mean... If you didn't want to kill me I would be trying to flirt with you,” you said nervously, trying to stand up.

She stopped, looking at you with a frown.

“Are you serious?” She asked confused, blinking several times.

“Yes, yes... You're really hot, Donna,” you said, squeezing your eyes, waiting for your end.

“You're very vulgar,” she sighed, extending a hand toward you.

Had it worked? Had telling the truth done any good?

“Oh...” You sighed, taking her hand and standing up. “I… I, I'm sorry.”

“Don't you know that it is rude to spy on others?” She told you with a calmer tone.

“I guess I'm curious, that's all,” you said, relaxing your breathing. Her gaze explored your body up and down.

She nodded, looking at you in a different way, with the shadow of a smile decorating her face.

“Hey, about the doll...” You said whispering, looking out of the corner of your eye at the puppet, which, to your surprise, stood up on its own.

“Do you really think I'm beautiful?” Donna asked, with a childish smile on her face, as if you had said something strange.

“Yes,” you said, nodding, turning red with embarrassment. You couldn't deny that you were attracted to her, even if she seemed dangerous.

“You are also very beautiful, (Y/N)” she whispered, approaching, nervously playing with her hands.

“Give each other a kiss and shut up now” the doll mocked, making you look away at it.

“Oh, the doll did it again... Why is it moving?” You asked nervously, disturbed by what you were seeing. You couldn't be dreaming. Your heart was beating very fast.

“Would you like to kiss me?” Donna asked, making you almost break your neck as you looked at her, eyes wide.

“I... Um, what?” You asked confused, with a knot in your stomach, with your subconscious screaming at you to do it.

“I would like to kiss you…”

What was wrong with that woman? She wanted to kill you just a minute ago.

You were an adventurous girl and you boasted about the girls you met during your travels. Donna was the strangest of them all, but also the most beautiful.

“Well, why not?” You said, shrugging, letting yourself be carried away by her figure, by her beauty in the light of the fireplace.

You approached slowly, until you placed your lips on hers. She sighed contentedly, unable to hide a smile as she kissed you slowly, bringing her hands to your waist.

It wasn't a long kiss, but it was an intense one, one that made you forget for a moment where you were and the strange things you had experienced.

“Surely you have met many girls on your travels...” She murmured, kissing you slowly again, exploring your lips with curiosity. You were confused, but you couldn't deny that you were enjoying it.

 It wasn't how you intended to end the night.

“Yes, but...None like you...” you whispered, laughing at that situation. You weren't planning on having an affair with a woman who lived with a living doll. You began to be grateful for being lost in the blizzard.

“You can be sure of that, (Y/N)” she said amused, but with a dark tone, without stopping kissing you, caressing your body, raising the temperature of that house. “My bedroom is downstairs... But the elevator doesn't work,” Donna said, biting her lip. “Do you think that small bed of yours...?”

You, eager to get to know this woman more deeply, nodded. Your unbridled lust had made you forget everything that had happened. Someday it will take its toll on you. Maybe before you ç thought.

“The small bed will do,” you murmured, biting her earlobe. Her lavender scent was intoxicating, as were the sounds she made when you kissed her neck.

Donna pulled away from you, taking your hand eagerly, with desire, dragging you towards the stairs.

It was a night... Too good. That woman was eager, almost insatiable. You couldn't tell how long you were in that bed, naked, giving up to your passion. You moaned, she moaned. What seemed like a terrifying night turned into a series of moans, kisses, caresses… It became something unexpected and electrifying, something you didn't want to forget.

You opened your eyes as the morning light came through your window. Your whole body hurt. Because of the blizzard, and because of the night you had spent with that woman. Woman who, by the way, was not sleeping next to you, was no longer hugging you like the night before.

“Mmm, the doll lady...” You moaned, letting yourself fall on the mattress, confirming that you didn't dream of making love to her. The whole bed smelled like lavender. “Well, it seems that there is no longer a storm.”

You dressed quickly, shivering from the cold, but with your body still warm from passion.

“Good morning,” you said humming, peeking out the door that led to the living room. There she was, in her black dress, with her face uncovered, preparing a breakfast worthy of any buffet.

“Hello, tesoro, how did you sleep?” She asked kindly, walking over and kissing you quickly. You smiled.

“Not enough time...” you purred in her ear, causing her to giggle shyly.

“You scandalous...” the Angie doll said with a singing voice.

“Fuck! I had forgotten,” you said scared, running a hand over the back of your neck. “Em, Donna… What's wrong with that doll? Why is it alive?”

“Come on, come on, tesoro, calm down,” she said, taking you by the hand to the table and pushing you to sit down. She did the same in front of you.

“Seriously, why is it moving?” You asked, grabbing a croissant from a tray.

“I'll tell you another time...” the lady said, ignoring your curiosity for the umpteenth time.

“Mmm, you better hurry up, tomorrow I'm traveling to Poland” you commented, taking a sip of that delicious coffee that she had prepared for you.

“Poland?”

“Uh-huh,” you nodded, smiling but observing the confused gesture of the lady in black. “It's the end of my route. Afterwards, I will return home.”

“I thought you'd stay a bit longer...” she said, her eyes shining, as if she were pleading.

You feigned indifference and sighed.

“Well, well... Maybe I'll stay a few more days... If that's okay with you, of course...” You said amused, winking at her.

“I would love to,” Donna whispered, ending the conversation.

After filling yourself with that breakfast, you decided it was time to leave. You would have stayed longer, but at least you had to return to the hotel to extend your stay. The truth is that you wanted to know more about her, spend more time with her.

“Then I go down the elevator, follow the bridge... And I arrive at the village...” You said, repeating her instructions at the door of the house.

“That's it, tesoro... Promise me you'll see me again,” she said, hanging on your neck and kissing you quickly.

“Sure, we could have a lunch together if you want.”

You said goodbye with another kiss and started on your way back. The path was sinister, but at least there was no loss and the day seemed clear.

You got into that strange elevator and pressed the button. You frowned when you realized something was wrong. You had neither gone down nor gone up. You had felt movement, but you were in the same place.

“What the…?” You asked to yourself, studying the landscape with your eyes. No, you hadn't moved, the house was still at the end of the road. You started to shake. You pressed the button again and again. You went up the elevator again and again. Nothing, the same landscape.

You left the cabin when you had apparently managed to move around. Some red doors remained open.

“I definitely need that nap,” you said, scratching the back of your neck and pushing one of the doors.

You opened your eyes scared.

In front of you there was no forest, no snowy landscape. In front of you was the hall of that house, you were inside that house again.

“What?” You asked, trying to get out the door. It was impossible. Every time you left, you came back in. “What?”

“I'm sorry, (Y/N)” a hoarse voice startled you. The lady in black appeared out of nowhere. The black veil covered her face again.

“Donna? What's going on?” You asked scared, grabbing her black dress, mad. She didn't move. A childish laugh was filling the house. The doll laughed amused, and you suspected laughing at you.

“I like you, (Y/N). I can't let you leave.”

[usagi-chwan]

Chuuya x Reader - Change of plans

A late happy birthday to our little Chuchu <3

This story tells nothing less than the fulfillment of a dream for our dear little redhead.

While he was walking quietly in the streets of Yokohama, taking advantage of a well-deserved day off to do some shopping, he heard it.

A tiny little bark, which obviously came from an adjacent alley. On the spot, he had an unpleasant feeling of déjà-vu. The image of this bastard of Dazai trying to make the stray dog, so that one can adopt him and feed him for free, returned in memory and made him shiver with disgust.

Chuuya was about to pass by, not wanting see such a horror a second time, which would have certainly prevented him from sleeping for several days, before another little bark sounded, followed by a squeak of pain that played on his heartstrings more than he would have liked.

If there really was an animal in distress in this alley, he would never forgive himself for leaving it all by itself. At the edge of the abyss, Chuuya had stepped into the dim darkness of the narrow street, searching for what could have produced those desperate barks.

His mind replayed again and again the sordid images of his encounter with a certain wandering Dazai, well installed in his box, and he had only one desire: run away as fast as he could.

It was at this moment that he saw it. Crouched in a dark and dirty corner, a small frightened animal, uttering squeaks of despair that would be able to split the heart of the most hardened man on earth.

A tiny little dog, with reddish-brown fur and covered in dirt, holding a bloody paw against it. This realization was striking enough to make Chuuya move. With slow steps, not wanting the animal to get scared and run away, especially with a paw in this state, the redhead bent down while advancing towards the dog, which only answer was to melt a little more in the darkness of its hiding place, its whimpering redoubling in intensity.

To Chuuya's great relief, the dog had not chosen to run away. The latter even let itself be stroked, its ears lowered, looking at him with its two small black and tearful eyes, imploring.

The dog's fur was completely tangled, and was not enough to hide its apparent thinness. The poor animal had obviously been wandering the streets of the city for quite sometime, looking for a loving home that would accept it.

It had no collar, no tattoo, nothing to suggest that it already had an owner. It was simply a wounded, dirty, hungry stray dog who just wanted to be loved.

And that was exactly what Chuuya intended to do, from the moment he saw it. The dog willingly let itself be taken in the redhead's arms, even though it whimpered in pain because of its wounded paw. The small ball of fur finally melted in the heat of the young man, thus stopping shivering of cold and falling of tiredness the following moment.

When he came out of the alley, Chuuya had a big smile on his face, a mixture of intense joy and a sweetness that he rarely possessed. He knew perfectly well what he had to do from there.

Making sure not to wake up the dog, and wrapping it up properly in his long black coat, the mobster set off, looking on his phone to get an idea of which way to go to his next destination: the vet.

-----------------------------------------------

Chuuya could not be happier than he was right now.T

The little dog's injured paw had been treated, and he had been told that it was doing relatively well, apart from a few deficiencies due to its almost non-existent diet for the last few days, but nothing that was too serious or that could not be rectified as soon as possible.

With a bandage around its paw, the little dog had hobbled over to the bowl of food Chuuya had prepared for it, now back home with his new 'roommate'.

The veterinarian had certified him that this dog did not belong to anyone, and that he could keep it without any problem. And that was precisely what he intended to do. With an adoring look on his face, Chuuya watched the hungry little dog eating the steak in its brand new bowl. He ran his gloved hand through the dog's now impeccable fur, pensive.

"How can I call you?"

At the sound of the young man's voice, the animal raised its head from its bowl, looking at him with its small black eyes. The vet had informed him that this dog was a female, so he had to choose its name accordingly.

He observed for a long moment the brown fur, reddish in places, that he was stroking, and an idea sprang up almost immediately in his mind.

"Akage! It means 'redhead'; well I know that it's not very original but well... Do you like it?"

He swore he saw the dog's eyes shine a little more at his question, or was he imagining things in the euphoria of the moment. Either way, he had found the name of his new little roommate.

And he could not be happier than he was at that very moment.

------------------------------------------

More than two months had passed since his first meeting with Akage. The little one was relatively calm, very clean and affectionate, and extremely intelligent. And he was not just saying that because he was completely gaga over this adorable little face.

He had been afraid to take her out at first, fearing that she would run away at the first opportunity. But, against all odds, Akage always stayed close to him, so much so that he had started to bring her to his work.

He did not even need a leash, since she always stayed safely by his side at all times. If he had to go out on a dangerous mission, he had no choice but to leave her in his office, and he could see that it was as painful for both of them. But he was careful to take her to all the other ones, the ones that would not endanger the little dog's life.

It was one of those days like any other, during which Chuuya had decided to go out for a walk in the park before going back home, Akage on his heels as always, who followed him by trotting slightly.

Sitting on a bench in order to rest his legs, Chuuya observed for a few moments the animal sniffing some objects on her way, like a small shrub or even a small child, who had come to caress her while being ecstatic in front of her adorable little face.

The child reluctantly left with his mother, while Akage barked a little goodbye. The surroundings became silent again, the park being usually deserted at this time of the day. This was perfect for the little ball of red fur to stretch her legs without the risk of being run over by someone, tiny as she was.

The quietude of the moment was interrupted, however, by a voice calling his name, a voice that twisted his eardrums in just one word. He did not need to turn around to guess who it was. He tried to stay calm, looking at Akage who was running a little in the grass, praying that this happy fool would pass by and leave him alone.

But that was not knowing the fool in question.

"Chuuuya~! What a happy coincidence to run into you on this beautiful cloudy morning!"

"Shut up. Go away, I don't want to see your ugly face."

The newcomer, who was of course his former colleague, and who answered to the name of Dazai, came to put a hand on his own chest, as if someone had just given a stab in his poor little heart.

"If you knew how much you hurt me," he murmured with his most theatrical voice possible. "I wanted to wish you a wonderful day, so that everything goes well in your life..."

"If you really want me to have a good day, go away. Just hearing you talk will ruin it forever."

The bastard called Dazai pouted, looking at him with an annoyed expression while crossing his arms.

"That's mean, Chuuya. Almost as mean as you are short."

This simple sentence was enough to get the last nerves of the redhead.

"Say it again?? You narcissistic asshole!! Always harassing women to commit suicide with you? Who wants to die with a ugly face like yours??"

And, of course, neither of them wanted to stop there, and thus take the risk of letting the other win this umpteenth useless fight. The tone began to rise more and more, the desire to come to blows as well (for a certain redhead especially), in the vast park fortunately deserted in this beautiful autumn morning.

After some time, from the corner of his eye, Chuuya swore to have seen something moving ; but, too concentrated by the hatred that he was pouring on the suicidal maniac, he said to himself the next moment that he had certainly dreamed.

Until, nevertheless, a shout resounded from Dazai's side, ridding him of that damn mocking smile he was always wearing. Eyes wide open, Chuuya looked at the little thing that was now hanging on the sleeve of his former colleague, who was growling and waving her paws in the hope of scratching her prey as much as possible.

Akage had attacked Dazai, believing that the intruder was bothering her master and that the latter needed help from her. Which was not totally false. And, above all, Chuuya could not have dreamt of a better ally than a dog, which Dazai hated.

"Is this horrible thing yours??" cried Dazai, his voice filled with fear. "Tell it to leave me alone!!"

Instead of coming to help him to free himself from the fangs of the little dog, the redhead was content to laugh out loud, watching the brown-haired man struggling while screaming in terror, trying to get rid of the little animal by all means.

It was only after a few seconds that Chuuya intervened, feeling guilty for letting his beloved little furball too close to the other bastard. It would be the worst thing in the world that he contaminated her with his legendary bullshit.

Only, before he had the time to whistle in order to call back Akage, he saw that Dazai had finally found the way to seize the little thing by the skin of the neck, making the anger rise again in him. What right did this asshole have to treat his little darling like that?

For the second time, however, he did not have the chance to do anything else, as a sudden light appeared between the two men, which came more precisely...

From Akage. The little dog opened her black pupils, frightened, and Chuuya had to close his for a moment, too blinded by the light that radiated before him. Dazai, on his side, loosened his grip on the animal's neck, forced to close his eyes too.

When Chuuya dared to open his eyes again, he noticed at first that the light was gone. Then, alarmed, he started to look frantically for Akage, who was no longer in Dazai's hand.

The two men, with their eyes now wide open, lowered their heads towards the ground, where the dog should have been.

Only, instead of a tiny little ball of hair, there was now...

A girl. With brown hair tending to red in places, and entirely black eyes. Not to mention the fact that she was completely naked.

A long silence passed, heavy as possible. Before a voice as unpleasant as unwelcome spoke up.

"Hey, Chuuya. I didn't think you had such occupations."

But the redhead, too busy staring at the girl, eyes wide open, did not answer. He watched the young woman, about twenty years old, looking around, completely lost, probably wondering what she was doing there. Their eyes finally met, and Chuuya swore he felt his heart miss a beat.

This girl had the same eyes as Akage, not to mention the same hair color. Knowing that Dazai had the power to nullify the abilities of others, and that his dog was nowhere to be seen, the conclusion of the case was obvious.

Although impossible to believe.

The girl's cheeks were scarlet, as she tried to hide her body with her hands, her gaze still immersed in Chuuya's.

"Huuuu..." she finally spoke, unsure. "Woof...?"

...

He was definitely unlucky when it came to animals.

And it was that bastard Dazai's fault, once again.

[vickyvicarious]

Mina first being scared that Van Helsing will accuse her of being responsible for Lucy's death before meeting him and validating her guilty feelings, and then going fully into a despair on October 1st about her going to Whitby and taking a liking to the cemetery being what doomed Lucy... Makes me worry about her survivor's guilt after all this.

We never read her account on October 4 when she and Jonathan wrote down the Oct1-3 cylinders and journal entries, but I'm so curious how she felt listening to the recording about Renfield dying for her after their friendship... Maybe she took it quietly with no tears, as she's on survival mode. But once that is all over? She's prone to spiraling into guilt and feeling responsible...

I've missed a few asks on Mina's guilt, just because I've not kept up with my inbox a hundred percent. But it definitely is a consistent trait of hers and we saw hints building towards the breakdown about Lucy. She feels scared he will accuse her of being responsible for Lucy's death because she feels responsible. And even though Van Helsing never comes anywhere close to putting that on her (because why would he, she protected Lucy as much as possible), we later see Mina do it to herself. I think those thoughts were always in her mind, but when she was being active and taking steps to protect others (Jonathan) or to seek retribution (hunting Dracula) she was able to push them to the back of her mind. But as soon as Mina was left behind with nothing to do, the grief and guilt hit her full force.

And yeah, of course there was additional stress because she was being excluded, and Dracula feeding on you is probably more likely to intensify negative feelings about oneself, but like... yeah, I think that was always coming. Mina feels over-responsible for things, is prone to blaming herself, and does not take well to bad things happening when she wasn't there to stop them. So she concocts some kind of reasoning to herself where actually she could have stopped them. Even when she knows for a fact that there is nothing she could have done, I think she would still feel some guilt mixed in with her worry and grief. It's just how she thinks. Either she did something wrong, or she failed to do something right. Activity or inactivity, both her fault.

When Jonathan was lost on his business trip, Mina felt intense worry but couldn't act because she didn't know what to do. She tried not to acknowledge her terrible thoughts much because again, there was no way to act on them, and she didn't know for sure that they were true. She was actively trying not to give up hope by speaking aloud her worst fears. We saw her counseling herself to have patience, repeatedly. We didn't see much guilt here, but she was suppressing all worry, and I think if she had gotten news that he had died, then she would have instinctively blamed herself at least a little. More "why did I let him go" type blame - if she'd stopped him or at least been with him, maybe she could have saved him.

With Mr. Hawkins, Mina seems genuinely caught off guard by his death. She must have known he was ill, at least enough that he sent Jonathan on the trip in his place, but it was still a sudden death she wasn't prepared for. I don't think she would feel seriously guilty over failing to prevent it, but I could see her feeling kind of guilty that she missed the warning signs and didn't care more for him as well. Maybe she failed to notice some sign that would have at least prepared everyone better. We don't see this happen in the book, and I think it would be much less because he is older regardless and she was never 'responsible' for him in the same way, but I could see these thoughts occurring to her.

With Lucy, it's twofold. First, her death - Mina left her when Lucy seemed to be getting better. Then she was hit with the news that Lucy had died while she was away and fully occupied with caring for Jonathan. We saw her feeling worried in Whitby that she was the cause of Lucy's illness by accidentally pricking her with the pin when she went to get her in the graveyard. The sleepwalking was something Mina failed to protect her from; the illness was from something Mina did when failing to protect her. And yet she felt soothed by an apparent recovery and went off to Jonathan. Then later on, she noticed that it had been a long time since she'd gotten a letter from Lucy, but she didn't bother to come and visit her. Maybe if she had gotten a doctor things never would have gotten so bad! Maybe if she had come to visit her in London she could have shared vital information that would help the doctors save Lucy's life.

And of course, when Mina finds out what was really happening to Lucy she feels worse. Because it wasn't her pricking her with the pin that caused all this - it was something worse. She saw all the signs but dismissed them. She set Lucy up to be vulnerable in the first place by getting her to hang out in the graveyard. And so everything that followed was her fault, and when it was worst she wasn't even there to help.

Mina never blames herself for focusing on helping Jonathan when he needed it. The narrative never does either. There's never a "choose between these two who you love" situation where picking one means the other is lost. Lucy seemed better before she left, Mr. Hawkins died suddenly meaning he probably seemed better too. But while that specific aspect isn't touched on, because Mina knows down to her core that she did right in being there for Jonathan, there are plenty of other ways she can blame herself. She always wants to take action, but if something terrible happens it means she took the wrong action. Even if that means she has to go ways back before the bad things began to find it (a la hanging out in the graveyard). Or if she couldn't act, it's still her fault because they were taking action for her sake.

That's an angle I didn't mention above but I think it would hold true for her to an extent for both men there. Jonathan was ambitious and working hard to provide for their future, so that they could get married. It was at least in part for her that he went off to Castle Dracula. Mr. Hawkins was hiding his illness for her and Jonathan, trying to appear fine because he cared for them and didn't want to worry them. If he'd taken it easier maybe he could have lived longer, if it weren't for them...

And that holds all the more true for Renfield or anyone who explicitly dies for her sake. She can see it potentially coming with Jonathan right now as well, for example - he's willing to damn himself of love for her). And yeah, Renfield of all these people is the one she knows and loves least, but they connected when they spoke. And he chose to fight Dracula, he died for her. At least in large part. His death was such a tragic one, too... And maybe Mina could have prevented it, if only she had spoken up. If she'd been less afraid of being sent fully away, and told Jonathan and the others about her fears. Maybe he would have lived.

As you say, it's possible she wouldn't have cried. I think she might have, a little, but more out of sorrow than guilt at that time. I think, like always, the guilt in its entirety would creep up on her later in quieter moments when she has nothing to do. When she can't distract herself, when she can't act to make things right or take care of others somehow.

[jayvikismylife]

When I saw him, I saw stars.

He wasn't the man I'd loved. Some echo, some smoke curled around my ribs still thrummed at the sight of him, suspended in air as he was. The barest whisper of love still licked around under my skin and tried to crawl out my mouth. But he'd died that day. An end he never deserved, agonized and crushed, spine split under the weight of a world that couldn't love him. Couldn't see him. He'd pass by, another shadow on the horizon, doomed to sink into the dirt like the rest of us. The jagged edges of his mind would never cut skin again.

But how could I leave him that way?

I'd played God. I'd taken a life not promised to me into my own hands, driven by the same primal fear that grips us all - the void of loss. The terror of that deep cavern drilled an endurance into me, forced my hand upon his broken form. He'd been so fragile then, shattered like porcelain against a floor. I'd put him back together with the unknown and the shallow hope of a man who couldn't live past another.

But what had come back wasn't him. Some form of him, perhaps, wrapped up in the silks of the universe and draped on his shoulders like glass, but there was no trace of my love. My affection. What suspended before me was a shell of hopes he'd never get to have.

There was love here. Fragile, empty love, but it sang through every stare that graced my skin as I'd crawled through the tents and up the hill. As if every soul sang the same harmony, had set in motion the tune of my return to his side.

I had the will to hurt him. To finish what I'd prevented, even if it broke the only piece of me I still had left. That was the price, after all. That pit in the earth had driven only one thing to my mind. Reprimand my actions before it took more from me.

I'd risen the hammer, then, gripped it with all the strength my weak hands had. The ache in my leg sang a vicious tune up my spine as I took aim.

And then he opened his eyes.

All I saw was stars.

His pupils, once baked in amber and sharpened like a blade, had softened. The colors rimming his pupils no longer took the shade of my own - some distant tapestry of pastel and hurt, staring down at me like I was both the bane and his balm.

I knew then, that he knew. That he was aware, somehow, my intention- that I'd come here with the quest from a distant realm, doomed to repeat a cycle I couldn't begin to grasp. Tethered to the post of fate and left to rot in the afternoon sun.

"...Jayce."

His voice cut a chord. Like a broken violin, the weapon fell from my hands, denting the floor of his abode with the ringing of judgement. I couldn't do it. Not a single shred of me could hurt him, not again. There were too many sins already etched into my skin. Even if this man, this *thing*, was not truly my love, it still wore his visage. Still strung his skin over its body and took the sound of his voice.

Still looked at me as though he held enough tender worship to shatter my foundations in a flurry of rubble and rock.

I couldn't stop it. My knees joined my weapon against the ground, some mix of soft earth and the cold, unforgiving structure of his dome. Months of isolation had finally clawed its way out from within my stomach, stinging my mouth in bile and despair. My ears rang with the intensity of a thunder-crack.

He came down, then, stepping on the air like a staircase. Like some ethereal specter that even the Gods couldn't bend. He was soft hands, the smell of thyme and soil as he embraced me where I kneeled. A deity that found not a worshipper on their knees, but an equal. Some prophet that would bring forth a new age.

"How I've missed you," he whispered to me, so sweet it nearly coated my mouth. My eyes stung as if I'd caked them in dirt.

I hadn't finished what I came here for. Couldn't fathom the idea, the choice that would cut his voice from my mind a second time. It would doom me, doom us all, but I was only a man. Forced to run circles in the same habits, the same calluses that dotted his hands like kisses from hard labor.

He kneeled to me without difficulty, scepter discarded by a hammer I would never lift again. My face was grasped like a mother and her newborn, held so tender it nearly broke me in two.

"My sweet, sweet prophet."

His voice was sweeter than poison.

[autumnmobile12]

Expanding on the Endeavor: Physical Strength vs Emotional Strength post I made because I finally have the wording for it, this is my more in-depth take on where Endeavor ended up in the finale.

In a twisted way, I’m glad he survived, and the reason for that is I’m personally a fan of the ‘live in despair’ trope.

Endeavor is a character whose identity lies heavily in his own physical capabilities.  Physically, he’s a very strong and imposing character, and all his life, he has used that strength both in the positive manner of fighting villains and protecting the public and in a negative manner to abuse and intimidate his family. His ties to his physical strength is a core aspect of his personality.

But another factor that might be in play is I actually think Endeavor suffers from depression. If that's the case, he has been dealing with it for years. And I don't say that as an excuse for everything he's done because accountability and all, but it would explain a lot.  Let’s face it, therapy and medication might’ve done this guy and his family a world of good.

Depression in men often presents itself as anger compared to women who experience it more commonly as stress/sadness. This is due to a combined factor of social expectations for men and a possible difference in brain chemistry between men and women. Symptoms of depression in men can include:

Aggression

Irritability

Controlling/abusive behavior

Overworking to avoid addressing negative feelings and overworking to the exclusion of any other hobbies/interests. (Does he even have a life outside of work?)

Isolation (He doesn’t really go out of his way to interact with co-workers, peers, or anyone in his family aside from Shouto.)

And if you really think about it, Endeavor's career-long status of second place in his profession did probably have ties to his own self-worth, so add in the 20+ years of feeling like he was never good enough that he projected onto Touya.

There's also the fact his oldest son died in a horrible accident that could have been prevented and he knows it. Touya’s death probably exacerbated his depression because I don’t think Endeavor is the sort of person to take a month off to mourn. I think he went right back to work to distract himself from it and never addressed his son’s death and he certainly never confronted his own part in it. That should have been a personal turning point for him to self-examine and re-evaluate some life choices, but see the post in the link above for the analysis on why he didn't. In short, no wonder Dabi chose the war path.

...

On top of all that, there's the aforementioned societal pressure that men are supposed to ‘tough out it’ because being sad/vulnerable is viewed as weakness, and Japan in particular does have a societal stigma against mental illness, so those two factors alone would mean Endeavor probably never considered he had depression or sought treatment for it even if he did. And so he used the intense physical activity of his job to overwork himself and further avoided actually confronting the emotional turmoil going on within himself and his own household.

But the finale:

Endeavor is crippled, he is missing an arm, he can’t walk by himself, he can’t dress himself, his former outlet of overworking himself is an impossibility, and he is now dependent on Rei’s care for the rest of his life, which is a subversion of her being forced to remain financially dependent on him for the majority of their marriage.  Everything that made him the strong, independent person that he was before Final War has been stripped away.  One of his children is dead because of him, one has all but disowned him as a parent, and the remaining two have limited contact with him.

This is in no way close to the dignified retirement he probably had in mind.

Endeavor didn’t die and ‘rest in peace.’

And now he gets to sit in his wheelchair and dwell on the choices that put him there for the rest of his life and, reminder, he's not an old man. He's middle aged, so he's got a few more decades of this to look forward to. He spent his whole life chasing after a goal that was egotistical, he ruined his own life and the lives of his family, he achieved his goal in the most hollow victory imaginable, and it all came crashing down.

It might not be legal justice for the abuse and mistreatment he put his family through, but I do see it as karmic justice. In all, it's a sad and pathetic end to a sad and pathetic life. The guy lives, but he lives in despair.

[the-greatest-8]

Anakin felt like the word had ended, his heart felt hollow and his mind was a mess. It had only been two weeks since his Master Jinn died, and he felt that loss stab into almost as harshly as his mother's.

His mom was still alive however- Anakin felt tears build up in his eyes, as his mind painfully reminded him he still could never see her again. Anakin did not know how to cope, he felt like his whole world was thrown upside down. Obi-wan did not seem as affected however, and it made Anakin angry.

Obi-wan did not seem to be mourning his own fallen Master, not like Anakin did. Not like Anakin is. He could not wrap his head around it, Obi-wan cared about Master Jinn, right? Then why did he not hurt like Anakin did? Why was he so unaffected? Where was the soul crushing sadness Anakin felt keenly?

Anakin huffed, kicking off his blankets, it was late. Most nights since that day he struggled with getting rest, ultimately making him feel even worse. Anakin just couldn't sleep though, his mind moving constantly, preventing him from closing his eyes. Often, Anakin just laid in bed, feeling as though he was choking on his own grief. He sighs, and begrudgingly drags himself out of bed- If he can't sleep, he might as well try to study his Basic language learning module. Try to, he'll likely just end up with a great big headache.

Anakin silently made his way to his bedroom door, letting it slide open with a near silent hiss. He begins to make his way through the hallway to the living room- When a soft sound emanating from the room stops him. Anakin pauses, attempting to understand what he's hearing when he realizes it; It's crying. Anakin is hearing soft crying coming from the living room. He tenses up, but sneaks closer, curious to know what is happening.

As he makes it to the entrance, he peeks in, and his gut twists at what he sees. Obi-wan is on the couch, softly sobbing as he holds a picture frame. Anakin knows what framed photo he has. It was the same one he himself had cried at countless times- It was a photo of Master Jinn, smiling and holding a 'Pathetic life-form' as Obi-wan had dubbed it. Anakin feels his stomach twist uncomfortably, seeing, and feeling Obi-wans grief for the first time.

Obi-wans shields must have slipped this late at night, because his sadness coats the room. It's a thick enough ache that it feels overwhelming- Anakin can only compare it to one of the vicious sandstorms Tatooine would have. Violent and unyielding, it would quickly overtake you if you didn't take shelter.

Anakin bites his lip, feeling guilty, this is a private moment, he realizes. He doesn't know what to do however, a part of him is sadly relieved. A bigger portion of him is guilty at that, he doesn't understand, why would Obi-wan hide this? Why would he pretend he didn't mourn his deceased Master? Anakin doesn't know what to think, as he watches thick rivers of tears fall down Obi-wans face, matching his intense force projections. A part of Anakin wants to reach out, to share his own grief, the part of him that is desperate to not be alone.

Anakin doesn't know if he'd be welcome- Obi-wan didn't share this with him, he probably doesn't want to.

However, before Anakin can sneak away, Obi-wan pauses. Anakin feels a deep pit of dread in his stomach as Obi-wans sad blue eyes meets his. Obi-wan blinks, before a soft 'Oh' leaves his lips, and the crushing despair of the room lessens as his shields slip back into place. Anakin feels uncomfortable with that- it still feels wrong, to pretend that Master Jinns death didn't mean something.

"Anakin.." Obi-wan starts, wiping his face dry of tears, "I'm sorry, I didn't wake you did I?" He asks, his face flashing with guilt. Anakin bites his lip, "No, I couldn't sleep." He says, battling with the urge to ask questions that will likely be shot down. He feels a flush rise on his face, "Are you okay?" Anakin asks, partly desperate to hear Obi-wans response.

Obi-wans face goes through a complicated set of emotions, before settling with a sad smile- It matches with his sad eyes, Anakin thinks distantly. "I'm okay my dear, simply working through something." Obi-wan says, peering at Anakin. Anakin shuffles a bit, feeling awkward, and a tad frustrated. He takes a fortifying breath and looks away from Obi-wan, "Can I stay out here with you?" He asks, waiting for rejection.

He hears Obi-wan hum, "Of course dear, come, sit down. I'll go make some tea." Obi-wan says, and begins to get up. Anakin quickly darts to the couch and hunkers down, grabbing a soft throw and hiding himself within it. Anakin feels a wave of.. fondness from Obi-wan, as he makes his way to the kitchen.

Anakin thinks he likes that feeling, it's nicer then the blankness he feels from Obi-wan a lot.

After a few minutes, Obi-wan returns with two cups of tea, the soft smell of citrus giving away what blend it is. Anakin feels a pang of grief echo in his ribs, it's a blend of tea Master Jinn often favored. He takes his cup from Obi-wans waiting hand with a soft thanks, and sips it, his eyes fluttering at the familiar taste. Unwilling, Anakin's eyes begin to fill with tears, and his throat becomes tight.

He sniffles, trying discreetly to hide his growing emotions, but startles when his cup is taken from his hands. Obi-wan places the cup down and pulls a surprised Anakin into a hug. Anakin suddenly loses all progress he made in fighting his tears, as hiccuping sobs break free. He hides his face in Obi-wans shoulder as he clings himself to the older man. Obi-wan rocks Anakin gently, sending him feelings of comfort and safety through the force. Anakin begins to sob even greater clumsily trying to send the same back at Obi-wan.

He feels Obi-wans surprise, followed quickly by affection and a soft, gooey feeling Anakin doesn't have time to analyze. He feels Obi-wan kiss the top of his head as Anakin's tears start to slow. Anakin starts to feel like maybe the world isn't fully turned around, as his eyes start to droop with his exhaustion.

__________________________________________________

Authors note-

Hey! Hope you guys liked this bit of hurt/comfort. I got possessed this morning by the writing demon and had to get this out of my system. I feel like I ought to just post these on AO3 of somewhere else lol. Sorry for any errors, I haven't slept in a good deal and will likely come back to edit any issues.

[miharuki]

Yandere Dark Link with Shadow Zelda like S/O however the Shadow S/O can change appearance such as hiding from him and sometimes taunting him.

your wish is an order! But again remembering, sorry for my bad English, and I'm trying to get something more real and more horror :P

(problematic obsession, blood (if you squint), madness, I tried to do as much as I remembered from Legend of Zelda)

𝖄𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝕯𝖆𝖗𝖐 𝕷𝖎𝖓𝖐 𝖂𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝔖/𝔒 𝕷𝖎𝖐𝖊 𝕾𝖍𝖆𝖉𝖔𝖜 𝖅𝖊𝖑𝖉𝖆 𝕭𝖚𝖙 𝖂𝖍𝖔 𝕮𝖆𝖓 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖌𝖊 𝕾𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖊

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐅𝐈𝐂 (𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑟𝑡)

Headcanon and Fanfic (in a more realistic way)

"I believe that Dark Link would have a greater interest in their significant other if they could shapeshift; their obsession would be intensified. Furthermore, I believe that now Dark Link would be more cautious with their significant other, always keeping an eye on them 24/7 to avoid being deceived. Additionally, I think Dark Link would use their significant other's shapeshifting abilities for themselves (cough, perhaps to confuse the original Link)."

Dark Link, a distorted reflection of Link's inner darkness, has always been drawn to the enigmatic Shadow S/O. This mysterious figure, resembling Zelda but with the ability to change appearance at will, was a constant source of fascination and obsession for him.

The ever-changing appearance of the S/O was both a blessing and a curse for Dark Link. It kept him on edge, always searching for the true form behind the shadows. At times, they would appear as a hauntingly beautiful vision of his ideal partner, seducing him with their charm and grace. Other times, they would transform into grotesque and terrifying forms, causing his heart to race with a mixture of fear and despair.

Dark Link's obsession grew with each encounter, his love becoming more distorted and maddening. He scoured the dark corners of Hyrule, desperate to find his indescribable S/O. He would face monsters and solve puzzles, all in the hope of capturing their hearts and preventing them from escaping once again.

If S/O attempted to escape using their powers, I believe Dark Link would become even more intense in this situation, likely marking some part of their S/O with a hot iron branded with his initials (those of a cow and with magic to last longer). This way, if they changed their form, Dark Link would know who his S/O was and to whom they belonged. Dark Link's obsession had blinded him to the danger of this twisted romance. He was willing to do anything to keep Shadow S/O by his side, even if it meant resorting to darker and more violent methods.

Dark Link was consumed by jealousy and despair. His desire to keep S/O by his side had turned into an insatiable hunger. He would leave dark gifts in hidden corners of their world, signs of his affection and devotion, but S/O always seemed to elude him.

Dark Link's obsession had reached a detrimental level to his health. He could feel the seductive presence of his beloved Shadow S/O, but he never knew when or how she would manifest. It was a tantalizing dance of love and madness from which he couldn't escape.

One night, as the moon cast mysterious shadows on the forest floor, Dark Link heard the gentle melody of a song. It was an eerie tune that touched his heart, and he followed the sound to a clearing. There, bathed in moonlight, was his beloved in the form of a radiant Kokiri girl.

"Ah, my dear," Dark Link whispered, his red eyes fixed on her. "You've finally come to me."

Shadow S/O smiled shyly, her form shifting slightly. "Maybe, but can you catch me?" she teased, disappearing into the shadows.

Dark Link's heart raced as he pursued her, the thrill of the chase intensifying his obsession. The forest seemed to conspire against him, with branches reaching out to slow his progress and twisted roots causing him to stumble. He could hear her laughter echoing through the trees, maddening and intoxicating.

Finally, he cornered her in a moonlit clearing. She appeared as a captivating Gerudo woman, her eyes filled with fear and desire. "You've won," she said breathlessly. "I surrender to your love." Dark Link, consumed by his passion, embraced her tightly, swearing eternal devotion. He pressed his lips to hers…

(I was in class when I wrote this, sorry if it's bad XD)

[ciaossu-imagines]

Chrome Dokuro and grief

Chrome, sad to say, is really so used to being alone and lost in grief. Her upbringing with her mother taught her grief from early on. She’s always been sad. She’s always been alone. She’s been that for so long that those emotions are just so much a part of her makeup that she legitimately does not notice them anymore. Even when she finds a place among the Kokuyo Gang, there’s always been reminders that she could easily become alone again. Even when she makes friends with Kyoko, Haru, and I-Pin and starts to gain confidence and a life, there’s still that part of her that is deeply sad but knows how to continue on.

Because of this, small moments of grief aren’t even noticed by her. Things that would make other people sad, that would feel like loss to them – losing something small and sentimental, failing a test, disappointing someone, having a favourite character die…those are all things that are about the same base level of sad that she’s been so used to carrying around that those things are at most a small blip on her radar. She’ll mostly feel upset at herself and will definitely blame herself only if it’s things that she could have prevented, like the loss of an item or disappointing someone. She’ll beat herself up over it and push herself to do better next time, but it doesn’t provoke a strong grief response.

The only time this changes is if it is something related to Mukuro, Ken, or Chikusa. We see this in canon – the trident breaking during the ring battles, her alone in Kokuyo Land during the future arc. These definitely pull out more of an emotional response from her, but her grief is less expressed through sadness or despair. It’s more often expressed through fear and a kind of avolition. She gets frightened more easily and she finds it hard to know what to do. She finds it hard to make any decisions or even to make herself get up and try. She retreats into herself, huddles into her own little world, and waits for orders from someone she feels is better than she is.

While this will improve as she ages, I do think grief is always going to be expressed as fear in some way when it comes to Chrome. This is especially noticeable when it comes to the times when she will actually acutely feel grief, which is through a loss of someone in her life. This could be anything from someone actively deciding to leave her, such as a friendship ending or a romantic partner leaving her, to someone actively dying who was important to her.

In both cases, Chrome feels intense sadness, yes, but even more so, she finds herself filled with an anxiety and fear that is cloying, almost choking her in its intensity. What is she going to do without this person in her life? Did she do something wrong? Is she responsible for this? Is she still not good enough? How is she going to survive now? What should she do? What even can be done? What’s the right thing to say, to do, to feel?

It’s all a big, confusing, scary mess of a world after a loss in Chrome’s life and she retreats a little bit into herself. She is definitely someone who, after a major loss in her life, could fall into a deep depression. She needs other people in her life during these times to keep her grounded, to encourage her and kind of direct her in what to do. They need to keep her stable while allowing her the room she needs to make sense of everything going on in her head.

Unfortunately, this often leaves Chrome open to being mistreated in a lot of ways, because in the wake of that grief, she’s going to cling super tightly to whoever shows her kindness, mercy or even a scrap of love. She was denied those things for so long that it really does only make sense that when they are given to her, even with ulterior motives, she can’t really see anything beyond those things. Because of this, people with less than positive motivations, or who treat her rather unkindly, can often fuck around with her or mistreat her and she won’t leave, just because she so desperately doesn’t want to lose someone else from her life, not so soon after a loss.

I will say that, as an adult, she is less prone to that and when that situation does happen, she does find the courage to leave it quicker than she would’ve as a teenage girl.

[katyspersonal]

Why do you hate Miquella?

I don't 'hate' him, I want to strangle him sometimes, I ask that you learn the difference! XD

Okay on a serious note, I just found the new lore "hard to digest"! I was the one yapping the loudest about how what I wanted from the DLC is to find Miquella broken / fallen from grace after all those long and genuine attempts to make the better, kinder world! I am an absolute sucker for how Soulsborne does the despair and inevitability of the vicious cycle, and how the world is so evil and cruel that even the last metaphorical ray of sunshine will be obstructed. And so, everyone who will follow the same path, believing THEY can do better can only meet the same fate. It is about lasting and trying despite not being able to win. Will you still be a good person if this is the end of all of them, unless they die sooner than their fall from grace? I am absolute foreigner to the "why can't we have just one 100% good and kind person?" because this is simply not how this wretched world works. It is a fundamentally cursed farm of suffering, and so are everyone born in it. I also don't go to many parties.

I was NOT shutting up about this, and.. I did get what I wanted XD It is likely the "be careful what you wish for" situation because I was NOT having a good time with the disappointment, especially past listening about Mohg being bewitched! It is not all that bad though! The further "digestion" of the new info went, the better it got. He and Malenia basically miquellested Radahn over their oath when they were younger and dumber? It was a huge "this isn't you" situation since Radahn devolved from 'kind' to almost Hoarax Loux 2 at least, something to do with Radahn holding the stars preventing Miquella's mad plan at most! Mohg was brainwashed? Maybe Miquella can only compell affection, but it isn't his choice HOW people will react to the effect, so an attempt to help Mohg backfired because Mohg was too intense person! Miquella is being kinda evil? He severed his ties with Trina, who feels like his kinder half, "abandoned his love"! Even that ghost said he should not have done that and there is no way he can save people if he can't save this side of himself!

He ironically repeated his mother's mistakes while he was trying to avoid them! Isn't the cyclic curse that falls on everyone who tries to be good exactly what I asked for? XD The thing is, I am not having a good time due to disappointment in the character nonetheless, but ALSO I am happy because this is the intended effect! Denial, anger, people claiming him having always been evil and feeling betrayed by the character having been pitched to be perfect and heroic prior to DLC is just how Fromsoft rolls! The effect here is just stronger because it's been two years and uprooting previous impression of the character that grew this deep is a painful process :p (And I could tell people for from Elden Ring was their first Soulsborne game had it worse because they aren't used to the trick gfggs)

So yeah, I am coming around bit by bit and it's both blessing and a curse because we all love feeling strong emotions over stories, positive or negative! (I am still ruining his hairstyle with my awful braiding skills though)

[codenamesazanka]

Ochako went and save Toga by realizing that she was in pain, realizing that Toga had been treated as an inhuman freak her whole life due to her quirk, for how her emotions interacted with her quirk.

The the war is over, and Ochako's recovered, her choices are to: treat Toga as a unique case, been-there done-that over-it; or realize many, many other people, especially villains, are experiencing this pain and she should do something about it.

If she does the latter, then she would have to go digging into Toga's past to understand how a Toga Himiko would come about. Toga's given her a few clues - her parents, her normal house full of bad vibes - so Ochako can go find Mr. and Mrs. Toga to figure out what they did.

If they're still alive, Mr. and Mrs. Toga will probably tell Ochako they did their best, but Himoko still turned out bad. She was just a demon child. That's what they literally said on television when interviewed after Himiko stabbed a classmate (Chapter 226). If pressed, Mr. and Mrs. Toga would probably admit to that one time they slapped Himiko when they found her sipping blood from a bird... but come on. What else were they supposed to do? Wouldn't anyone have been disgusted? Mr. and Mrs. Toga would admit that they were very strict with Toga - but again, what else were they supposed to do? The parents might even admit they cried out in despair a few times that their child was not human, in front of Himiko - but they were at the end of their rope!

Ochako would probably be horrified and consider the parents at least emotionally abusive and toxic - but is there anything she, a Hero (student), can do about that? Could do for a similar case? She can't arrest people - and even if she could, was all this enough to arrest the parents? Best Ochako can do is refer cases like these to Child Services, and then check in on how it's progressing weekly.

Ochako might be able to investigate Quirk Counseling, and how it made Toga feel only more alienated and repressed - but to do anything about that, she would need evidence.(Note that this is probably not the job of a Pro-Hero.) Maybe she can find statistics that Quirk Counseling does more harm than good, but the data might say Toga is the exception - it worked for a bunch of other kids! They were able to be normal (stay deeply repressed) and never turned villain! Or maybe there is lots of testimony that Quirk Counseling made the patients feel worse - only that point has been used by the Meta Liberation Army, a villain/terrorist organization - so it's seen as much less credible. Best case scenario, Ochako can prove that Quirk Counseling as it is has been done in an ineffective manner, but now it's up for the psychologists and scientists and policy makers to do something about it. She, a Hero (student), can't do much about it beyond that.

And that's if Quirk Counseling doesn't get advocated even more avidly by people who, after the war, want more of it imposed on children with unable-to-conform quirks to prevent future Togas. Because maybe Toga didn't get enough and more intensive counseling. Hell, if AFOFA'a backstory is discovered, they can even argue some people are born bad and should be dealt with as early and harshly as possible.

So maybe a cultural change is needed - Ochako has to go and convince the masses that kids with scary quirks and young villains lashing out should be given some kindness and be considered human that should be saved...

Not sure how that will go over a population that just had their country collapsed due to being terrorized by young people with scary quirks lashing out, during which the media coverage has been a reporter screaming about the quirk doomsday theory in relation to Toga.

(along with live streaming All Might in a mecha suit whaling on a monstrous teenager, and then Deku fighting a hand monster, and then all Heroes fighting another monster; then Deku smashing to dust that monster. All creepy looking inhuman monsters.)

...

Then again, people are committed to supporting Heroes even more, so maybe if Ochako says something, people will listen. That's... about the best that can be done, at the moment.

[miracleintheandes]

The avalanche

Sixteen days after the crash, when the survivors thought their predicament could not get any worse, it did.

On October 29th, an avalanche buried the fuselage and claimed eight lives. Roy Harley was still awake and heard an intense buzz, similar to a herd of horses. He jumped to his feet just as the snow filled the interior of the fuselage, covering his sleeping companions on the floor.

Roy panicked. He thought everyone was going to die and he would be left alone in those dire conditions. Rafael Echavarren and Arturo Nogueira - who had severely broken legs - slept in hammocks and weren’t buried by the snow, but they could do very little to help.

He initially freed Carlitos Paez and then others who had their hands sticking out of the snow. As more people were freed, they started digging until almost everyone could breathe again. For Gustavo “Coco” Nicholich, Diego Storm, Liliana Methol, Enrique Platero, Daniel Maspons, Juan Carlos Menendez, Carlos Roque and Marcelo Perez del Castillo, it was too late.

Coco and Diego were part of a tight-knit friend group that consisted of the two of them plus survivors Carlitos Paez, Roy Harley and Bobby François.

Here's a couple photos of the group of friends:

(from left to right: Diego, Roy, Carlitos and Coco)

On the tenth day of the ordeal, to the utmost despair of the group, they heard on the radio that all searches for the wreckage had been suspended by the Uruguayan authorities. Coco said, “We have good news and bad news. The bad news is that they stopped looking for us. The good news is that our survival doesn’t rely on anyone but ourselves”. He wrote letters to his girlfriend Rosita that were later given to his family.

Here's Coco and Rosita:

Liliana was the last surviving woman of the group. She had a profound revulsion to the idea of eating human flesh and only managed to do so when she thought of her four children and how much she wanted to see them again.

Here are a few pictures of Liliana with her kids:

Enrique Platero was close to survivor Pedro Algorta, while Daniel Maspons was Roberto Canessa’s best friend.

Carlos Roque was the plane’s mechanic and the last surviving member of the crew. Juan Carlos Menendez was a law student and friends with Numa Turcatti and survivor Pancho Delgado.

Marcelo Perez del Castillo was the Old Christians’ captain. He felt guilty for the crash, because he had made the arrangements for the trip to Chile.

From day one, he showed incredible initiative, dividing tasks and coming up with the idea of sealing the back of the fuselage with chairs and luggage, which prevented everyone from dying of hypothermia. Marcelo never doubted that they would be rescued very soon, so when it became known that the searches had been suspended he became very depressed.

More pictures of Marcelo, plus his family:

Several survivors claim to have experienced a profound sense of peace while trapped under the snow, with their entire lives flashing before their eyes.

For three days, throughout a snowstorm, the nineteen remaining survivors were piled up in a tiny part of the fuselage, near the cockpit (the plane’s nose pointed slightly upwards). Their clothes got wet, increasing the cold. The oxygen was running out, so Nando Parrado poked a hole on the ceiling and through the several feet of snow that covered the fuselage.

Numa Turcatti, Carlitos Paez and Pancho Delgado “celebrated” their birthdays during those three days (October 30th, October 31st and November 1st, respectively).

Once the snowstorm was over, they escaped through the windows of the cockpit and started digging the snow out of the fuselage. It took them fifteen days to clean it all out.

Thanks for reading and please share this post so it can reach more people!

[mod-kyoko]

Hey mod kirumi how's this for an Agnst prompt. How about Miu and her S/O having their first fight and it's an intense one where they had to seperate themselves from each other to prevent it from escalating further and they both hate it but refuse to be the one to apologize.

miu iruma and s/o having their first fight

info: established relationship, miu moment, gn!reader, angst, slight make up at the end

type: hc format, non-despair au

a/n: ty for the asks, I sort of have them make up at the end but not really, couple problems y'know

⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡

okay listen, miu is always driven on feelings

whenever she gets in a shitty mood she doesn't hold back on her anger

however, she usually holds back on you... and blows up on someone else instead

this particular day though... she exploded

you were sitting in her workshop, kicking your feet as you were sat on one of the tables, watching miu weld metal together

"what are you even making, miu?" you asked her

she lifts up the welding mask and grinned at you

"just the most fucking awesome thing ever! our own robot butler!"

"ah...? another robot? don't we have kiibo, though?"

"kiibo is cool 'n all... but he's premade... I want to make something myself... besides, that bitchboy won't let me add certain functions..."

you decided not to question on what these 'certain functions' were

"i've been working on this damn thing for months! you would've thought a genius girl like me could cook shit like this up in no time... but these parts are more expensive than my left tit!"

"a-ah... i'm sure they are..."

miu goes back to welding and you just watched her for a little while, she seems pretty absorbed in this robot she's making...

in fact, for the last few months she hasn't been as active in spending time with you properly, unless it's like now where you're watching her work on this damn thing

you sighed, reaching for your drink that was next to you

of course you knocked it over

you couldn't even react, miu couldn't react either but the contents of your drink spills out onto the prototype of the robot and into its open chest cavity

all of the wires and other electrics were now covered in soda...

both miu and you stared dumbfounded, your eyes were wide and you brought your hand to your mouth

"m-miu.. I'm.. I'm so-"

"are you fucking for real right now?!" miu shouted at you, her face was red... with anger this time. you could hear her gloves stretching as she tightens her hands into fists

"are you slow or just plain stupid?! why the fuck do you have a drink near electronics anyway?!"

"I.. I said I'm sorry-"

"sorry doesn't fucking make up all the blood, sweat, cum and tears that went into making this shit! i spent months of my precious sweet time in doing something useful and you fuck it up!"

you usually can handle your girlfriend's outbursts... she usually doesn't mean what she says to you but this time, something snapped

you went as red as her whilst you yelled back

"well maybe this is good! all you've been doing is working on this... stupid project and not spending time with me.. for months!"

"are you fucking high or something?" miu spat at you, it's bad because she isn't even backing down... "this is my life's work! all you've been doing is being a pain in my ass!"

your eyes widened, frowning and... miu frowned too upon realising what she had said

she shakes her head and gives a dismissive wave towards you, turning her back from you to look at the mess you caused

with tears in your eyes, you left her lab and went to your dorm... you trashed the place in anger

was that what she thought of you? just a thorn in her side?

you were sorry that you ruined her project... but you weren't sorry that you wanted her to spend time with you more...

miu wasn't feeling particular proud of herself either, which is shocking, she never feels remorse in what she says

but with you... it's different

you ruined her damn project! the materials aren't cheap and easy to come by!

but... she had been neglecting you, so caught up in her passion that she didn't consider your feelings

she's miu fucking iruma! she doesn't apologise for shit!

you avoided each other for the next week or so, not even making eye contact during class or passing each other in the hallway

you both hated it, you both really missed each other

you missed miu's rambles about her inventions

miu missed your body in her arms, your sweet words

you were one of the few people who didn't underestimate her and make her feel annoying

even if she could invent an exact replica of you, how you feel or even some ai copy of you

none of it could ever replace you

kaede and shuichi tried to help you two out seperately

kaede mainly talked to you and gave you some advice on how you could fix things

shuichi tried to talk to miu in the same way but...

it didn't go so well (poor boy)

after a long few hours of thinking, you got up, grew some balls and went to miu's dorm sometime at 10pm

you knocked on the door and she answered, looking shocked to see you, but her expression went to one of seriousness

after all you did mess up her project...

"the fuck you want...?"

harsh words... you couldn't bring yourself to say sorry for what happened, or even bring it up at all

you just stepped forward and hugged her, hard as possible

she squirmed in your arms for a moment and her face went red

however, she relaxed in your arms and even hugged you back as tender as miu can be

neither of you actually said a word to each that night, but you both felt the same feeling between you

you both laid in silence on miu's bed, curling into one another. it was probably the quietest miu had been in her entire life

there was a lot to talk about but for now, you just wanted to be able to look and touch her again

⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡

-Mod Kirumi