#⚠️ TW: Suicide ⚠️

[apocalypse-shuffle]

JASON TODD | RED HOOD (batman:under the red hood 2010 | canon divergence?)

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“In Your Eyes” (Jason Todd x Gn!Reader)

| Jason Todd is gone, has been for years, but his ghost still haunts you.

| SFW, angst, reader was in a relationship w/Jay (TW: suicide, passively suicidal reader-insert, hallucinations, blood, personal neglect, mature language) - could be platonic or romantic honestly

| Just go with the timeline weirdness. (pics via: Batman: Under The Red Hood 2010 movie)

| 1k+ words

b.NOTES: Yes, I decided to post this for Jason’s birthday, and yes, it is a downer. 🥳🎉

This was going badly, even you could admit that. Every possible thing that could’ve gone wrong was going wrong. You were out of batarangs because Bruce had threatened to bench you for failing to follow orders so you’ve been avoiding him; subsequently missing your last supply check.

You’d been in a nasty fight coordinated by Oracle with Nightwing last week and your suit too had gotten fucked to hell but your backup was, once again, at the manor. Then what was supposed to be a by the numbers recon mission was now a shoot out because you haven’t slept for more than three hours in days and you slipped up.

Bruce’s disappointed scowl flashes across your mind as you slam into an abandoned office, a hail of bullets cascading after you.

Icing on the fucking cake was that you couldn’t even call him for help if you wanted to. You had abandoned your com two days ago when the announcement that Tim was joining the Titans had gone live. It was irrational, you had known he was joining. Hell, you’ve even met the kid, but something about the news had just jarred you more than even fighting alongside the new Robin had. Now everyone had concrete confirmation (if they paid attention at least) that Jay was gone and it hurt.

When the last barrage has calmed down - and you can just barely make out the sounds of people converging on your cover - you move with a wild burst of energy, crashing yourself through the office window. The second story drop out of the foreclosed building should’ve been easy, the shouts being left behind you and wind nicking at your face should’ve been the end of this nightmare mission.

Instead there’s the zip of something harshly breaking through the air followed by searing heat as you’re hit mid fall.

“Fuck!”

The second you land you crumble to the ground, slapping your hand over the furiously bleeding wound.

The back of the knee.

Fucker managed to get you right where it’d hurt and the projectile broke right through your armor like it was nothing.

Blood trickles down your leg, quickly saturating the absorbable pieces of your costume.

Yeah, you’ve officially gotta get outta dodge.

A very real problem arises though when you limp forward and not only does your knee buckle dangerously but there’s a man blocking your easiest exit out the alleyway you landed in.

“You lost, little bat?”

“Nng,” is all you can grunt out. You fling your last batarang, absently clocking as it knocks the gun from the man’s hands and the goon yelps in surprise. Your leg feels completely drenched, and you should feel more pressed about that than you do.

Just then is when your knee decides to give out and you drop to the ground hard with a thin scream. There’s spots dancing in your vision and the guy’s talking but you can’t hear a word.

You rush in a stuttering breath, fighting against the pull of your eye lids. Maybe… maybe you could just finally go to sleep - you can’t remember the last time you hit REM without immediately being jolted awake by your dreams anyway - why not camp out here until one of the bats found you or…or you died of hypothermia. Who knew concrete could feel as good as memory foam.

The pounding of feet grabs your attention next - each foot fall vibrating your skull - and you blink back to yourself however many seconds later. Head lifting what catches your eye makes your body still.

No, goddamnit. Not now. You shake your head but the resolve catches in your throat anyway.

"I thought you were dead." You feel out of breath with relief now, examining his domino-less face. Drinking up the mere sight of him.

"I know." He whispers; soft but not quite apologetic.

He steps closer and you shudder, have to force yourself not to take a corresponding shuffle back. This couldn't be.

He was still in the vibrant reds, greens, and yellows of his Robin uniform. He always was whenever you dreamed even though the last time you’d seen him was at a book reading where he was in regular clothing. In that damn red hoodie.

Even though you know the costume he died in was in tatheres, caked in his eviscerated flesh and burnt-in blood, the suit you see now is impossibly pristine.

"No,” you mutter weakly. Jason moves closer and goes to put his light hand to your dark cheek. You grab and throw it down, pushing yourself up and back, heartbeat clammering up your throat as your wounded leg drags after you.

"No! No! I won't-" your back hits the brick wall behind you and you collapse. Bruce had been chewing you out about getting help for the insomnia and to get therapy to move past Jason's death but you’d ignored him, ignored everyone, even your parents. Now it was too late.

On the cold wet floor you shrink into yourself, crying.

"Jason Todd is dead!" You yell, looking at the image in front of you. You swear you can feel the rush of air from him crouching down.

Jason frowns at you and there are tears building up in his eyes. You gag. You were so tired of your mind throwing shit like this at you. You couldn't do it anymore.

It’s when you’re screaming at nothing that the goon takes advantage of your distraction and lunges forward towards the gun that he’d lost at your intervention. He cocks it at the mouth of the alleyway. You sit down at the other end, only briefly looking at the man aiming at you before shifting your blurry gaze back to Jason.

His eyes get cloudy and distraught, but you just keep babbling nonsense at him, tears streaming down your skin in ravines. Jason opens his mouth and stands but doesn't come any closer.

"Y/N please don't do this, I'm here. I'm with you, I swear, just please make him put the gun down. Throw a smoke bomb, run away, something,” he begs, tears of his own now cascading down his face.

“Not this time,” you whisper. You weren’t letting another sleep addled hallucination keep you alive, the pain that came with that burden was too much. Death was so much better. You just wanted it to end. "I'm sorry, Jay, but I can't."

Jason hiccups, shakes his head rapidly.

"Yes you can, just leave." He takes a step forward. The man’s finger begins pressing down on the trigger. "Just run away, please!" He screams out a plea you’ve heard more than once, a plea you can no longer heed to.

The gunshot goes off and you don’t dodge, you don’t try to lessen the blow, or make sure it hits somewhere non lethal. You just close your eyes and let the bullet break through already compromised armor.

"Y/N!"

- - -

The gun clatters to the ground as the gunman watches the hero slump.

“Shit.” He runs. That wasn’t supposed to happen. Vigilantes weren’t supposed to stay down in Gotham.

Your hand slides to your side; body limp and leant crookedly against the wall, black skin under you mask too washed out - to grey - to come back from.

There were no traces of any former Robins having been in the alleyway when the Batman found you. Just of one ordinary goon in a sea of many who you should’ve been able to fend off.

- - -

When Jason had gotten his mind back he'd been dead set on Gotham; on Bruce and finding his old best friend. So a few hours after he'd been back in his hometown he mustered up enough courage to go to your house.

Except it was different.

Where shelves were once overflowing with books and collectibles in your room they were now bare and dust riddled. Where a bed used to lay was just barren ground, and where it once felt like home it now felt more like rapid cruelty and crushing emptiness.

That night Jason had snuck back out of your old house with cold eyes and a churning stomach, he'd never admit to himself that he felt this much dread at missing out on so many years of life that you'd already moved out, moved on. Hell, your parents weren’t even there anymore.

That night he tries to blow up the Batmobile, Batman and the pretender in his place with it. That night he decides he can do much worse than some bomb.

- - -

It'd been a whirlwind trying to find you but eventually Jason did, just not the way he'd expected.

He had been looking for a couple of deserters and was ganged up on by a group of Mask’s thugs who had been working for him - guess he’d found those deserters - and were looking to get back in Mask’s good graces by taking down the Big Bad Hood and overthrowing his newly minted empire.

Jason had been chased over the rooftops of Gotham - picking off who he could as he went - till he could lose the group in the minefield that was the largest graveyard on the outskirts of the city.

He had been deftly making his way through the resting place when a bouquet of flowers caught his attention. Your favorite.

A small smile stretched across Jason's face as he sidled up to the tombstone. He initially meant to look at the flowers for a second before continuing on his way, but the beginnings of your name on the shiny stone caught him up.

Jason furrowed his eyebrows before sucking in a sharp breath after he let his thumb ghost over the engraved name to uncover what the dirt was hiding.

He took a step back in shock as he read your full name, clear as day, in the granite. Tears welled in his eyes and he ripped his helmet and domino mask from his face, dropping to the ground. His hands shook as they slid over the wet dirt that covered your casketed body.

“No. Fuck, not like this. I wasn’t supposed to find you like this.”

He was supposed to come back and make everything better. Bruce was supposed to finally avenge him, and you were supposed to reunite, not trade places.

e.NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!!

This is an edited/updated version of one of the first Jason Todd fics I’d ever written. I did keep some of its logistic oddness for preservation purposes though.

To my surprise also I didn’t have to edit as much of this as I thought, so props to twelve year old me fr😉. (Also I wrote this when I was actually suicidal so please be respectful, it is a tad bit mean-spirited - Maybe? I feel like it could come off that way to other people, idk?)

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it. I just won’t respond cause this is a sideblog.

[simp4konig]

König mistakenly shoots you on the battlefield

König x Gender-neutral Reader

Word count: ~4500

*SLOW burn but when my writing finally has that spark this fic catches FIRE and FAST so be prepared!! 🔥🔥

*⚠️Angst Angst! ANGST!⚠️

*THABK YOU SO SO SO MUCH TO AZZY MY NO.1 FAN FOR THIS AMAZING IDEA!!!! 🥰🥰🥰I LOVE *YOU* VERY MUCH!! 🥹🫶🫶💞💞💞💞 💞💞💞💞💞THANK UVFOR ALWAUS LIKING MYNPOSTS AND BEING SO KIND TO ME YOU MAKE EBERY HOIR SPENT WRITING WORTH IT AS I AM ALWAYS EAGER FOR YOUR MESSAGES😭😭💓💓💓💓💓💓I AM *YOUR* NO.1 APPRECIATOR IN ALL RHE GALAXIES🌌🚀✨🌠QNDVWISH U ALL THE BEST ALWAYS!!!!!!🫂🫂💗💗 THIS ENTJRE POST IS DEDICATED TO YOU !!! 🥹(,,havinf said that, i hope u arent TOO taken aback bu tje level of angst here 💀💀REALLT went overboard and I completely apologize 💔)

TWs: König is in love with you. König's sanity slowly deteriorates as the fanfiction progresses. Mentions of attempted suicide, graphic depictions of gore, potentially triggering depictions of depression. König has suicidal thoughts after shooting you. König experiences intense trauma after shooting you and has survivor's guilt.

*Reader's callsign is "King". Implied age gap. One-sided pining from König... but the ending is purposefully kept ambigous (as you, the reader, can interpret the final interaction however you like)! Can be read as a standalone if you have never read any of my works before. <3

*To clarify to those that have already read my works before, this is *NOT* a direct continuation to 1.my fluffy 2.series! This is a separate imagine, but DOES take place in the same KönigxKing microchosm. Whether the following events take place in an alternate timeline or happen at some point in the future/past is for you to decide. Idk man i just write the fics I don't do the world buidling 🗿I write sotires without thingign about the greater picture u honestly think my one shots will tie to a greater plot?☹️No 💔

...

Right from the beginning, König had a gut feeling that this mission was going to go wrong.

It was a deep sense of foreboding in the pit of his stomach, making him feel queasy on the helicopter ride as the both of you with an additional three others were scheduled for contact in a few minutes' time.

You were just a recruit, and this mission was far too intense for someone with next to no experience in an active warzone for it to be their first. He knew the dangers of missions like this, knew how things could go horribly wrong in an instant.

It wasn't that he doubted your ability. Not at all. From the corner of the room he would silently supervise as you sparred another person, monitoring your movements incase your opponent had the upperhand and you needed guidance.

However, he had never needed to intervene, as he was impressed with your quick reactions and your controlled steps as you'd move on the balls of your feet, arms held up in front of your face. Ambition was in your eyes, your face scrunched up in concentration as you calculated your next move.

You'd defend yourself up until the moment you'd pounce and in a blink of an eye be on top of your opponent, your entire weight pressed on their theirs on the ground. Whether it was another woman, another man, or even a person with bigger bulk you were clearly disadvantaged by, you'd never give up, and took on any challenge with an impressionable passion of a young recruit.

Once they'd be the one to tap out, you'd immediately push yourself off them and offer them a hand, asking them "Are you alright?" in a concerned tone as you were pulling them up. "Sorry for getting aggressive there, sir/miss! I hope I didn't hurt you!"

To which they'd respond with boisterous laughter and a strong clap on your back, you doubled over as they were congratulating you for knocking them off their two feet and telling you to keep up the good work. König couldn't wipe the triumphant smile from his face, filled with pride at your personal victory.

Once you'd be the one to tap out, you'd part ways honourably, never disrespecting the person that came out on top. If anything, your loss only added fuel to the fire burning in your eyes, driven to work harder. He still admired you, and would be the one to pull you up as he dusted you off, telling you that you did a great job regardless.

"Thank you, sir!" You'd reply bashfully, face red from effort and embarassment. "Though, I'm sure I made a fool of myself with how I was flailing my arms just then..."

"Nein. Not at all," he'd say, eyes glinting with something that you couldn't quite recognize. "You did very well."

Target practice displayed your accurate aim, wool seeping out from the heads of dummies and the targets regularly replaced as the wood would cling in pieces, the center blasted into smithereens by repeated bullseyes from you.

Always lingering nearby to assist, you would gratefully accept König's help and allow him to demonstrate how to operate another gun with an appreciative smile on your face, your genuine eagerness to learn making König's chest tighten. You seemingly never knew the effect you had on him.

You were a naturally skilled soldier, he had observed, and he knew that you'd make an incredible addition to the team, he couldn't deny that.

Yet, he couldn't shake off this feeling as something more grave.

All personel debriefed and the plan disclosed a week prior, the superior went over the plan once more back at base. A large blueprint spilling over the table with weak spots and areas to beware were annotated, his forefinger pointing at different areas of interest. Sketches, photographs, and jottings were displayed from a projector for all to see as you listened closely.

König's jaws were grinding against each other in agitation, having doubts about you being deployed on this mission.

Despite this operation being portayed as an in and out extraction, König knew better. He knew what the stakes were. Intuition urged him to warn you, to confide in you about his doubts and even considered crossing your name off the list and assigning you elsewhere last minute without anyone knowing.

But the thought that he could be controlling you — a young, innocent recruit — and even considered doing something so foul didn't sit right with him.

You were your own person, and he couldn't be your shadow, couldn't act as a human shield against all that was cruel and gruesome in life. You had chosen this job, and therefore must have had at least some idea of what your responsibilities would entail, some knowledge of what soldiers go through in pursuit of glory.

Instead of being so pertubed, he should keep it together, he thought, should maintain a stoic façade. He was your superior — your colonel, for God's sake — he was someone you aspired to be, someone that should be an inspiration, a role model, someone that could have your back and be a reliable body to fall back on.

Not someone that couldn't keep it together when you around.

Especially when he shouldn't have been having feelings for you.

You, a young person vulnerable and easily influenced by people older than you, by the likes of him.

It wasn't right. He wasn't right for what he was feeling, for what he had been thinking. It wasn't right for his feelings to cloud his judgement, wasn't right that abusing his power had even crossed his mind, let alone been tempted to act upon it.

Your voice pulled him from his thoughts. "König? Are you alright, sir?"

Turning his head to face you, he nodded with false certainty, containing his worry in an attempt to appear confident for you.

"Ja, King, it's okay. Just thinking, that's all."

You quirked a brow, not convinced. "Hey."

Placing a firm hand on his shoulder, a serious expression was on your face, which caught König off guard and made his eyes widen. "If you're thinking that I'm going to get myself killed then you've got another thing coming, because I will NOT get shot by the enemy."

His back slumped over a little, averting his gaze for a moment. "Nein, sie haben recht."

"Ich sollte nicht zulassen, dass meine Gefühle mein Urteilsvermögen trüben." König mumbled something else under his breath in German, then quickly shook his head and laughed, looking into your eyes again.

Tension in his body was eased a little. "No, you're right."

A little. Because he wasn't going to dismiss the thoughts gnawing at the back of his head as mere paranoia.

You perked up. "Good, glad we've got that cleared up, sir! I want you to know that I won't disappoint!"

His heart skipped a beat at your smile, so eager to please and make him proud, that he shuffled uncomfortably, trying to get the butterflies in his stomach to calm down. Now wasn't the time.

Idly fidgeting with his combat knife as the helicopter blades hummed above, he went back to thinking over all the possibilities and different ways this mission could go awry:

...What if these were the wrong coordinates, or the helicopter would be attacked the minute they landed? The thought of an ambush wasn't an irrational one — it had happened before, he reminded himself — so he had brought a few more weapon crates than necessary for safekeeping.

...What if the helicopter's signal was intercepted and everyone including the pilot were destined for a fatal crash? Counting the number of parachutes and noting the fire exit, he could rest a little easier if an emergency like that was to arise, yet it still did little to soothe his nerves.

...What if you really did get shot? In case that happened, he had alerted some operators beforehand to serve as re-enforcements, one of those on board including a skilled army medic, under the guise of needing more manpower in case things went south. After all, this extraction could not have go wrong. It shouldn't have gone wrong.

But... what if you died? König wouldn't know how to deal with the feelings associated with your death, knowing that he had loved you from afar yet never acted on it. At least he'd be able to keep his shameful secret a secret, and you'd pass away never knowing what he truly saw you as, truly thought of you.

He had little time to figure out what was causing the trepidation to stiffen his muscles as the helicopter suddenly swerved and lowered, landing kilometres away from the designated building yet on unstable ground nonetheless. Any moment soldiers could attack it if they had known the group's location, so the blades kept spinning and the engine kept running for an immediate getaway.

König assumed authority. "Everyone remember the plan?"

Four heads nodded in sync.

"Gut. Then you all know what to do. I will enter from the side with my Lieutenant—" he said, gesturing with his head at a masked operator beside you, "—while you three—" referring to you and two others you were only vaguely aquainted with, "—storm from the back. Ja?"

König's eyes stalled on you for a moment longer than necessary. You were going to be alright, he told himself. He'd keep you in his field of vision and could provide you with cover once you regrouped when you'd really need it.

"A quick extraction," he reminded, eyes stern yet heart disbelieving. "Simply go in, get the data, and go out."

A final nod of the head from König as he and his associate separated from your group. You headed towards the back of the building, fully alert, aiming behind corner incase there had been someone waiting to assassinate you.

Doors creaking as one of the men pushed, the three of you filtered in noiselessly, attempting to be as discreet as possible and wincing when the door slammed not so quietly. Guns cocked and silencers attached, you advanced in a line, blending in to the shadows.

As you walked, there were no signs of life, and the storehouse seemed abandoned. No machinery was being operate. No voices could be heard.

All was still and quiet.

Eerily quiet.

Feeling the hairs on your arms and neck stand on end, you shuddered. You made eye contact with one of the men in front of you who had more expertise, and he looked on edge, eyebrows creased in focus under his balaclava. None of this felt right.

Suddenly, something small rolled over towards you all. Blinking once, twice, you let out a panicked scream and dived for cover.

"Grenade!"

All hell broke loose.

Bullets ricocheted over your head, guns blasting from so many directions you couldn't pinpoint their source.

Slowly recovering from your momentary shock, you gripped your rifle tight and started shooting back, hidden behind a load of wooden crates. When you saw your hooded colonel crouching in a corner, you relaxed. With an encouraging nod from him, that was all you needed to go change positions, and you lunged forward. All was going smoothly at that point.

So engrossed in eliminating the threats in front of him, however, König only came to the realisation that you weren't there when he didn't see your figure in his peripheral vision.

Panic consumed his senses and circulated through his veins. All at once, he was frantically scanning the immediate area, searching for any trace of you.

You were thrashing and kicking as you were being pulled by rough hands, your fingers reaching for your holster through gritted teeth, yet it was just out of grasp. You were thrown harshly against the wall, and the enemy towered over you, feeling high from his power trip and excited to exert authority he had never had up to now.

Just as a knife made its way to your throat, your hand finally found your side arm and shot a bullet between his eyes, body falling on top of you like a sack of potatoes.

You convulsed involuntarily, hyperventilating under his weight and the sudden situation. Noting your surroundings, your heart sank.

You were in no man's land, full view of soldiers shooting at your team. The extraction point was just in sight, exactly how and where it was illustrated on the blueprint.

So far, no one had noticed you, too preoccupied aiming down their sights to see you shuffling under a corpse. You could enter those headquarters right now, could be proclaimed a hero of this story, and make your colonel proud and finish before schedule.

The risk was too big. You were bound to get shot.

Yet, against all better judgement, you dashed for the entrance, taking advantage of the element of surprise as three men turned towards you with wide eyes, not expecting to see you enter. Two were haphazardly shoving papers into a half-open folder thrown on the table.

Three shots fired before they could scramble for a gun, you rushed towards the desk. Scanning the material, your eyes widened in shock. This was it.

Now, your only choice was to crawl back into the line of fire. Soldiers still kept shooting with their backs turned, endless ammunition right at their disposal.

You were totally helpless on your own. Just one pair of wandering eyes from the enemy and just one shot in the back of the head would be all that would take to end your life at that moment and make all of your efforts go to waste.

Although an atheist, you mouthed a silent prayer, before taking a deep breath, and sprinted.

Seeing sudden movement headed towards him, König acted on instinct, and pulled the trigger on you.

His heart stopped.

Time slowed as your body fell in slow motion, more bullets piercing through your gear.

Realising his mistake immediately, he almost vomited his own stomach out at seeing you fall lifelessly on the ground, eyes wide and body dropping on impact.

"Scheisse, cover me, verdammt!" He yelled over his shoulder, all rational thought ceasing.

Breathing rapid and strained, he rushed towards you, gently wrapping his arms around your body — growing weaker by the minute — and headed straight for the first sign of cover he could see. Behind unstable and temporary refuge that could be blown to pieces, König was at a loss at what to do.

He had expected everything, evaluated every possible scenario, every possible outcome, even prepared a lifeline for you on the off-chance that you'd be injured in action.

Yet he hadn't anticipated that he would be the one to shoot you. Never.

Shaking violently, König could barely get any words out. "—S-schatz, please please please—"

Hesistant hands hovered over your wounds, conflicted, as blood was staining your uniform, wrenching König's heart. His mind kept repeating you did this. You did this. You did this.

You needed urgent aid, and you needed it right now, yet he didn't deserve to touch you, his hands clenched into fists as he didn't want to break you further, treating you like fragile glass that could shatter into pieces under his touch if he so held you.

He was the one that did this to you. You, the young recruit he was so hopelessly infatuated with, a person who he had cherished and loved from afar, the person who made him feel good things for the first time ever in his life.

He did this to you.

He was the monster in your closet, the threat that König had desperately attempted protect you from all this time, the threat that you were told to eliminate on this mission. The enemy.

The enemy that had mistakenly shot you.

"Es tut mir so leid, I'm so sorry—" König's mind couldn't function properly, speaking in broken mix of English and German. He couldn't gather his thoughts, couldn't think.

"—I'm so so so sorry. Please don't die, bitte vergib mir, forgive me, forgive me, schatz. Forgive me. Ich liebe dich, schatz, do you hear me? I love you."

Bullets whizzed past you both relentlessly, both of you still caught in crossfire. König's lips were moving yet you couldn't hear what he was saying to you, couldn't feel anything as you slowly lost consciousness, slowly closed your eyes.

A calloused hand tapped your face in desperation, your vision blurred.

"—Nein, nein, King! Stay awake! I'm calling for the re-enforcements now! Please, don't die on me— I'm so sorry..."

Shaky yelling through the walkie-talkie, voice cracking. "This is your colonel, König! We're retreating right now! One of ours is wounded! Send the re-enforcements right now to this location! I repeat, we are retreating! I am calling this mission off!"

"What? Are you crazy, König?!" A break in character from the commander, before immediately assuming professionalism once more. "Proceed with the mission! You are on the verge of breaking their defenses! You will enter their headquarters and be able to—"

"Nein. That was an order, commander," he hissed through gritted teeth, nearly crushing the device in his death-grip. "We are retreating. I am calling this mission off."

A pause. Then: "Copy that, colonel. We are sending your re-enforcements to cover you as you exit. Your helicopter is waiting. Hold out for thirty seconds longer."

Sighing with relief, he suddenly thought his heart stopped beating when he saw you laying there motionlessly, eyes closed. Desperately tapping at your cheek did nothing to awaken you. He prayed that you'd survive, willing time to go faster.

At last, loud whirring from above gave him the only comfort. Not waiting a second longer, König picked up your limp body and dashed outside, the helicopter lifting off as the rest of the crew threw themselves inside.

Opening your vest to inspect your wounds, he saw a blood-soakes folder secured tightly to your chest.

It was the data. You risked your life for the mission. You risked everything to accomplish the task and he had shot you anyways.

"—This is your colonel, König. We have the data. Mission accomplished, I repeat, mission accomplished. King has the data."

The radio crackled with an indistinguishable response, yet König heard nothing, blood rushing to his head and ringing persisting. Medics wasted no time to wheel you into an operating room, tearing your limp body away from his arms. He avoided the celebrations and cheers for their colonel, leaving everyone dumbfounded at his reaction. Shouldn't have he been proud? The mission was a success!

Yet the mission wasn't a success, and if anything, he felt shame. No one knew why their colonel holed himself up in his room aside from himself.

The news of you in critical condition in the hospital broke König.

As much as he wanted to see you, to check on your health and be the one to see your first signs of recovery, he couldn't. He couldn't bear to witness the colour drained from your face as you laid unmoving on the bed, the slow beeping from the heart rate monitor machine the only indication that you were alive.

He just couldn't. Not when he caused this. Not when he fucked up this much.

Using the gym as a coping mechanism for a while, he trained harder and more often than ever before, only wishing to make the pain go away. When he wasn't at the gym all throughout the day or at odd hours of the night, he'd toss and turn in his bed, having nightmares about your body bleeding out below him as the shot relentlessly echoed in his head. Or worse, he'd imagine himself shooting you again, only this time he'd find the barrel of his gun was aimed at your forehead execution-style, your unassuming face suddenly exploding into bloody pieces and what was left of your bewildered expression still remained even after he had pulled the trigger.

At those, König would spring upright, screaming "No!" in anguish.

He'd be panting heavily, bedsheets drenched in his own sweat and feeling like he was suffocating with each rise and fall of his chest. When the situation sunk in, he'd clench his fists so tightly his knuckles went white, shaken to his very core. On those nights, König wanted nothing more than to hurt himself, to compensate for the injury he inflicted upon you and how he had completely disgraced you.

At one point, when he had finally had enough, in his blind craze snatched the pistol laying by his bed, flicked the safety off and aimed it at the same place he had shot you, just to break down in despair when no bullet came out, the clip hidden in his bedside drawer.

Hand tightly squeezing his heart through his soaked t-shirt, he was repulsed by the fact that he was completely healthy and could walk freely while you lay injured and dying.

Under his watch, you had been injured. Under him, your body had crumpled. And it was his fault.

In emotional turmoil, he soon lost all ability to function. He couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, and could hardly find the motivation to get out of bed most of the time, convinced that he had killed you, convinced that he was a monster. Responsibilities were kept on hold, the next best person taking his place. No one questioned the new arrangement, despite the shared confusion from everyone on base.

He couldn't take this. He couldn't take this any longer. He would have rather died, sacrificed himself in any way possible if it meant that you could live another day, as you could make a greater impact on the world than he ever could. Could be a better person than he ever could.

It was his fault. He shot you. He had shot you. He had shot the recruit that he had hopelessly fallen in love with, yet only he himself was to blame for it for his lack of control, for his inability to be unaffected by his feelings.

One day, a knock on his door pulled him out from his trance.

Prior to the interruption, König was staring at the cement wall, his eyes unfocused, completely still and barely breathing. He wasn't himself.

Immediately straightening his legs and nearly tearing a tendon from how fast he got up despite having been so inactive for the last few days, he stomped quickly towards the door, his face glum yet eyes glinting with the merest hint of hope.

Hand reaching for the handle, he had readied himself, expecting bad news coming from a surgeon wearing a medical mask and a blue uniform, a solemn expression as they devasted him with your passing.

All but the latter was true.

"Colonel König, sir. The patient is awake. You may now visit them if you so wish."

Blinking a couple of times, König thought he had heard incorrectly.

"...P...Pardon?"

Repeated were the words that König was shocked to hear.

"King is awake, sir. Their condition is a stable one. Our team thought to notify you first since you were on the mission with them."

Gasping, König could barely breathe. He felt like he was drowning, drowning despite his head breaking out from the water. "What... I... where?"

"Ground floor, room twelve. They're on medication as of this moment yet are fully awake."

König nearly fell to his knees. You were alive!

You were alive! He hadn't killed you! He thanked the Gods, and could barely keep composed, barely able to stop himself from dashing to the center of base and yelling into the sky in pure joy.

"I— thank you... so much."

Running faster than he had ever ran in his whole life, he was at your door in minutes.

Yet, as his fingers reached for the door knob, he suddenly stopped in his tracks, hand poised mid-air.

What if you didn't want to see him after the whole ordeal?

What if you resented him, and would spit in his face the moment he walked in?

What if you hated him, and wanted nothing to do with him ever again?

Hesistantly knocking twice, he nearly had a heart attack when your voice broke through the door:

"Come in," you called simply; your voice was hoarse, but it was clearly still you.

Taking a deep breath, König pushed the door open.

There you were. He was having heart palpitations at seeing you awake and looking at him.

The light coming through the open curtains made your skin glow despite how pale you were, eyes sparkling and crinkling in happiness despite the dark circles and heavy bags under your eyes, hair splayed out behind on your pillow, resembling a halo, despite how greasy it was.

He had missed you. So much.

Then his heart sunk as he reminded himself that he was the reason for why you were here, why you were in in this state to begin with.

Seeing König, You shot him a daring smirk despite how numb your face felt. "Hey, König, sir. Did you visit me at all? I'm sure you missed me."

Waiting in anticipation, you kept looking at him excitedly. At the lack of response and his refusal to meet your gaze, it faded completely. "—Wh—what? You—"

"Not— not even once? Not—"

Tears were welling up in your eyes. "—you didn't come see me even one time?"

Maybe you shouldn't have gotten your hopes up. Maybe you should have thought that König would not have time to spare in his busy schedule.

Yet you couldn't not get your hopes up when as soon as you woke, your first thought was of König. Although the grim reality hit you hard like a bucket of cold water dumped over your head, you still wished to see him.

And yet, he hadn't wished to see you at all. He had avoided you like the plague.

"Scheisse—"

König started pacing the room, head hung low as he weighed the pros and cons. Indecision.

"—Do you really... do you really want to know why I didn't visit you, King?"

You nodded meekly, lip quivering.

He finally made up his mind.

If you rejected him, at least he'd rest easier knowing that you'd live, and continue to be happy for you from afar. He'd still support you, still be your colonel, still love you even when you found someone else.

"I... I put you in this position, King... It was all my fault," he begun, his voice barely above a whisper.

Tone softed as he finally stopped, as still as a statue, a metre away. From this angle, you saw how bloodshot his eyes were, how they sagged in sadness, how dark circles had formed from lack of sleep. His pale blue eyes were dull, glued to the ground.

"Not only did I lose sight of you on the battlefield, I also shot you. Shot my own—" Pausing, not knowing how to refer to you.

He carried on. "I couldn't live with myself. I still can't live with myself. I'm walking, uninjured, as you are laying in bed, recovering from an injury that I am the reason for. From bullet wounds that were the result of me."

Voice hitching slightly, he tried to keep his breathing under control. But he couldn't.

"How could the monster that shot you enter your room and dare to look at you? How could I watch you cling to life, while I walk freely despite causing you this— this agony? What right do I have looking at you after putting you here?"

You allowed the tears to spill down your cheeks.

He stopped, eyelids drooping, finally meeting your eyes.

"I have feelings for you, King, I—" Trembling "—I do. But... I shouldn't be feeling this way. You have your whole life ahead of you and I—"

"—I've... aged... I'm not the same man I was before. I've witnessed things far too disturbing to ever share with you. I... I know that you should be with someone better and I—"

Although still in a daze and sedated by the drugs, your thought process was still clear enough where you could be sure about this.

Reaching with a tentative hand for König's larger and rougher one, you squeezed it weakly, looking up at him with a heartfelt expression.

König smiled for the first time in ages.

Through that gesture alone, König knew that you forgave him.

He allowed his breathing to stabilise, wanting nothing more than to start over with you.

...

Note: MY FAT FUCIIJF FINGERS SLIPPED AND I POSTED THIS EARLIER THANI WAS SUPPOSED TO OJ MY GOD I AM AN IDIOT 🤡🤡

Edit next day: how tmdid this fet 100+ notes im sobbing 😭😭. thabk you everyone for readijg this angst fest!!!!!!! ❤️❤️❤️

[steddiealltheway]

!!!!! Tw: faked suicide not by Steve or Eddie. There are ⚠️⚠️⚠️ before and after the most graphic parts which can be skipped without needing too much context. I tried to be vague but it can still be triggering. !!!!! (Thank you everyone tagging it as such)

A sort of different type of TikTok Modern AU…

Eddie Munson is a famous rockstar and honestly doesn’t post much on TikTok, but he occasionally finds himself scrolling though the app which is how he finds Steve.

He’s gorgeous. Exactly Eddie’s type with luscious, gravity defying hair, a sharp jaw, pretty lips, and he bets if he had a closer look, Steve would have the most charming eyes. It’s a shame the camera is so far away from him, and Eddie almost wonders why until Billy Hargrove is in the shot.

Eddie’s stomach sours at the sight of the man. Yes, he’s attractive, even Eddie could admit that, but there was something about him that made Eddie feel uncomfortable. Plus, there were a few scandals surrounding the tiktoker regarding previous racist Tweets and comments which he has responded to with a thrust trap to “Nobody’s Perfect” by Miley Cyrus / Hannah Montana.

So yeah. Eddie didn’t particularly like him and the stuff he got away with just because he’s hot.

He tunes back into the video which has him holding his finger to his lips, and Eddie is already rolling his eyes. The caption says, “Pranking my boyfriend, Steve 🤣😱” and Eddie can already tell it has to be fake with all the dramatics that Steve just happens to not see.

But then Billy carefully sneaks behind the couch where Steve is sitting and dumps a bucket full of water and ice onto him which has the man yelling and standing up in shock. He stands still for a minute and then yells, “Why the fuck would you do that, Billy??”

The tone and overall reaction has Eddie actually wonder if the video is fake or if Steve is just a really good actor. But he watches it again and notices that the man doesn’t look toward the camera once and something about that makes him feel really uneasy.

Eddie has to reason with himself, if the man is dating Billy Hargrove then he must not be a great person, and maybe he deserved the bucket of ice water. But Eddie still closes out of the app and tries his best not to think about it.

-:-:-:-:-:-

He opens the app a few days later, having forgotten about the whole incident until he comes across another video by Billy and the word “prank” in his caption catches Eddie’s eye. He sighs wondering why it’s on his for you page, but right before he swipes past it, he catches the gist of the prank.

Billy fills a syringe with mayonnaise and injects it into a donut, and then it cuts to him giving it to Steve from a camera that once again seems to be hidden although Billy keeps glancing at it with a smirk on his face and evil in his eyes. Steve, on the other hand, doesn’t glance toward the camera, but his face lights up with glee when he’s handed the donut. “You got this for me?” He asks in an awe filled tone as if the donut means the world to him.

“Yeah, why don’t you take a big ol’ bite of it for me?” Billy asks, voice low. Eddie watches as Steve shifts uncomfortably and puts the donut down.

“This isn’t another prank, is it? You know I don’t like them,” Steve says which honestly surprises Eddie. His tone is entirely genuine, and he feels like he’s peering in on a private moment.

“Of course not baby. Told you I’d stop,” Billy replies with a big smile.

Eddie can’t help but click on the caption: “Simple prank makes boyfriend storm out!” With a shit ton of hashtags that Eddie doesn’t bother reading.

Sure enough, Steve bites into the donut and immediately spits it out. He doesn’t say a word, just shakes his head and storms out of room.

Billy laughs loudly, “Oh, don’t be like that, babe! You know that was funny as shit!”

Eddie opens the comments, and is surprised to find people actually defending the prank. There are some people who comment shit like, “date me instead! I would never get mad at your pranks 🥵”

There’s only one comment that says, “Don’t really find this funny.” But it’s swarmed with hate comments from Billy’s fans that has Eddie scoffing as he scrolls onto the next video. He watches for a few seconds before scrolling back up when he realizes something. He looks at the date of the TikTok and realizes it was posted the previous month which means…

Eddie sighs realizing that him looking through Billy’s videos will only give him more attention and views, but he needs to know how long this has been going on for. And he really needs to find out if Steve is in on any of it or at least had gotten Billy back.

He begrudgingly clicks on Billy’s profile and scrolls through. He finds several videos with the thumbnail being of Steve mid reaction to a prank, and Eddie notices that every time, the camera is far away, and there doesn’t seem to be a single video of him up close.

The whole thing doesn’t feel right to Eddie. But what can he do about it? It’s not like he can report the videos. He could simply just block Billy and try to forget it all.

He scrolls back to the top and accidentally refreshes the page. He’s about to block him when he notices a new video pop up, where Steve looks like he’s in the middle of a panic attack. Eddie immediately presses on it.

⚠️⚠️⚠️

Billy smiles at the camera, no shirt in sight as he laughs, “This is my biggest prank yet. Steve should be home in less than a minute. And look,” he holds up his phone and shows a bathtub filled with red water that almost looks like blood.

Eddie’s shaky hand covers his mouth. He wouldn’t.

Billy laughs and continues, “I sent him a text that says ‘I’m sorry’ and a picture of an empty pill bottle, and he’s been texting me non stop for the past few minutes. Shit, he’s on his way now so it’s time for me to hide my phone and make this look as real as possible.”

Eddie watches as Billy puts his phone on a shelf and seemingly stacks towels up to cover his phone and hold it in place. He looks away when Billy takes out a bottle of fake blood and stages a suicide. He practically shakes with anger. Steve has to be in on this. He has to just be a good actor.

Eddie’s stomach drops when he hears Steve yelling Billy’s name rushing through the house. He bursts through the door and falls against the wall in shock. “Tell me this is a damn prank Billy. Billy…” he gets closer and shakes him. “Billy!” He yells shaking. “Shit. Shit. No no no. Fuck. What the fuck…”

Steve sits next to the tub and puts his head in his hands having a panic attack. Billy’s eyes open and he winks at the camera before grabbing Steve’s shoulders and yelling, “Boo.” He starts cackling loudly as Steve confusedly looks around trying to catch his breath. “I got you so good!” Billy yells through laughter.

Steve shakily gets up, tears streaming down his face and runs. Billy gets out of the tub and makes his way to his phone. “Don’t worry, I’ll make it up to him later,” he says with a wink before the video ends.

⚠️⚠️⚠️

Eddie sits as the video reloops. He’s shaking with anger. He doesn’t think as he duets the video and mutes the other audio. “This is the most fucked up thing I’ve ever seen. These ‘couple pranks’ are stupid enough and not funny, but to fake a suicide and call it a joke… you have to be an extra type of fucked up asshole. There aren’t enough words to describe how evil of a human being you have to be to do something like this to someone you love. I don’t care if this is staged or not. This is not okay. And fuck you.” Eddie quickly censors Billy’s half of the video with a note of “watch at your own risk.” He doesn’t care if his manager is pissed or if his account is filled with Billy’s fans hating on him or whatever. He presses the post button and turns off his phone. He needs fresh air.

He grabs his keys, a hat, and sunglasses, and makes his way out of his apartment. Hopefully the damn paparazzi back the fuck off today. He makes it down his street and walks quickly, fuming with anger. He weaves in and out of people and curses the busy LA streets.

He turns the corner and rams right into someone walking at an equally fast rate. He holds onto the stranger to steady himself and keep them up. “Sorry,” the man chokes out and Eddie is about to brush it off when he realizes he recognizes him.

“Steve?” He asks. He knew Billy lived in Los Angeles but he didn’t know he lived so close. The thought makes him kind of sick to his stomach. He thinks he might punch him if he ever saw him in person.

Steve wipes at his face and narrows his eyes at Eddie. “Sorry, do I know you?”

Eddie glances around before lifting up his sunglasses and hat, waiting for Steve to recognize him enough to gain his trust. Instead, Steve just stares at him blankly.

Eddie’s heart races. This has never really happened to him. He puts on the hat and sunglasses sheepishly. “Uh, I’m Eddie. I know you from Billy’s TikToks.”

Steve just tilts his head in confusion. His eyes are red and puffy. He wonders if Billy posted the video so soon after his prank and if Steve is currently in the aftermath of it. “Um,” Steve says and clears his throat, “Was I in the background or something? He told me I wasn’t in his TikToks.”

Eddie’s heart drops. He opens his phone and goes to Billy’s TikTok, ignoring the way his own TikTok is blowing up. He turns his phone to Steve and picks a less traumatizing prank to show him.

Steve grabs his phone and his eyes widen. A look of confusion crosses over his face that slowly turns into realization and numbness. “He’s been using me for views after promising he wouldn’t, isn’t he? I even asked if the pranks were somehow stupid content but he said they weren’t. He…” he trails off and shakes his head. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be unloading all of this onto you.”

Eddie shakes his head. “No, no. It’s okay. I’m sorry that I told you.”

He watches as Steve numbly nods and scrolls presumedly through Billy’s profile. He looks down at the screen and back at Eddie. “Is this you?” Steve asks hesitantly as he turns the phone back to him.

Eddie confusedly looks at his phone and sees that Billy has apparently replied to his TikTok already. Then, to his left, he hears a bit of commotion and sees some cameras flashing. Fuck. “Do you trust me?” Eddie asks.

Steve looks at his phone and back at Eddie.

Yeah, that’s a lot to ask of him. “Okay, how about this? You keep my phone, and we run back to my apartment around the corner and talk in private before we both end up in shitty magazines?”

Steve tilts his head and glances toward where a few people with cameras make their way to them yelling, “Eddie! Eddie Munson!”

“You’re not a famous serial killer or something, right?”

“Musician,” Eddie says and holds out his hand. “One who hates Billy Hargrove.”

Steve looks down at his hand and takes it running alongside Eddie who tries not to think about the stories that might come out of this. Gosh, he thought his biggest scandal would be when he came out as gay.

He makes his way back to his apartment telling his doorman, “Paparazzi! He’s with me!”

Hopper just nods in response and opens the door quickly. Eddie sighs in relief when he makes it through and to the elevator. Steve looks at him and asks, “How offended are you that I don’t know you?”

Eddie laughs. “Mildly, but it’s a relief really.” He realizes that isn’t the biggest concern in the moment and changes the subject. “Are you okay?”

Steve sighs and runs a hand through his hair. He opens his mouth but the elevator dings, and Steve almost looks relieved. Eddie doesn’t press it as he leads him to his apartment. “Make yourself at home. Do you want water, coffee, tea, soda, or anything?”

Steve numbly shakes his head, so Eddie grabs two bottles of water and two cokes from his fridge. He puts them down on his coffee table and sits on the couch, watching as Steve kind of hovers in his living room with his arms crossed. “I won’t bite, and I certainly won’t pressure you to do anything. But you can sit on the couch if you like.”

Steve eyes him and asks timidly, “You’re not in on anything with Billy, right?”

It breaks his heart seeing and hearing how on edge these pranks have made Steve. “Fuck no. I promise on my guitar I have never had anything to do with Billy and I never will. Well… unless you count me calling him out on his shit on TikTok.”

The words seem to get through to Steve who sits down on the couch next to Eddie while keeping his distance. “So… that’s why you were on his TikTok.”

Eddie’s heart hammers. He nearly forgot that Billy had apparently dueted his own video. “Yeah, but it has to be really new because I only posted mine literally a minute before I ran into you.”

Steve looks down at Eddie’s phone still in his hands. “Why?”

“Why what?” Eddie asks genuinely confused.

“Why did you call him out?” Steve asks, not sounding angry just… curious.

Eddie shifts and play with a string on one of the rips of his jeans. “His most recent video with the faked suicide. That wasn’t fucking cool, man. None of the pranks he’s done have been okay. And I’m sorry that you were put through them - especially this last one.”

Steve’s face turns almost white. “He posted that? Was I… was I in it? Like… my entire breakdown was…” he trials off as Eddie slowly nods. “Fuck,” Steve says burying his face in his hands. Eddie is about to apologize or go on a rant about how much he hates Billy Hargrove when Steve asks, “Can I see the video you made?”

Eddie’s cheek flush red, but he replies, “Yeah, uh, I don’t exactly remember what I said because I kind of went into a fit of rage and posted whatever came to mind. But yeah, my password is 051599.”

Steve types the password into his phone, and stares at the screen blankly. He looks at Eddie and asks, “I’m not on social media… ever so… could you show me?”

Eddie nods and slides over until he’s a few inches away from the beautiful man, and he does his best to try not to think too hard about how attractive he finds him as he goes to his profile and presses on his recent video. His nose scrunches up at the sound of his own voice, but he doesn’t disagree with anything he said. Billy Hargrove is a dick.

“Can I see the comments?” Steve asks. Eddie nods and clicks on them.

“Woah,” Eddie can’t help but say as he sees blue checkmark after blue checkmark. The top comments are from @ ronancetheromance with the couple saying: “Only an absolutely vile person is capable of such a fucked up prank. #SaveSteve”. Another from @ willthewise: “remember to comment on here instead of the original video so it can get less attention!! #savesteve”. Several of the rest of the streamers who call themselves “The Party” reply to Will’s with the hashtag “SaveSteve”.

“Who are these people?” Steve asks as he scrolls through the comments. He comes across one from @ billyfan4everandalways saying: “Watch Billy’s new video and stop being so quick to judge!!”

Eddie clicks on the replies, and the top liked one - having more likes than the original comment - is from @ ericasinclair: “that ugly mullet man’s explanation is bullshit and everyone knows it. let Steve talk for himself or I’m not buying it. #SaveSteve #CancelBilly”

Eddie nearly follows the girl, but realizes that Steve had asked a question. “Most of them I don’t know personally honestly.”

“Then why are they defending me? I’m nobody,” Steve says as if it’s a common fact.

Eddie turns off his phone and puts it down, properly facing Steve. “I know I don’t know you well, but you are not nobody. And these people are defending you not only because Billy is a dick, but this prank stuff is abusive and shouldn’t be normalized especially with the following he has. Nobody should go through that.”

Steve turns slightly red and looks away before asking, “Can we watch his reply?”

Eddie shudders a bit at the thought, but turns on his phone and goes to his page. “Are you sure? I haven’t seen it yet either, and I’m a little prone to getting pissed at him.”

“I’m sure,” Steve says and even reaches over to open the video.

Billy still has fake blood on him and is scrubbing it off with an angry look on his face. He looks at the camera every so often, and it’s clear that he’s staring at himself in a mirror. What a fucking asshole. “These pranks are harmless, and even my boyfriend would agree with that. He enjoys them and he makes sure to show me how much once the cameras stop rolling and his shock has died off,” Billy says so with a smirk on his face that sends chills down Eddie’s body. “So, stop making assumptions about me and my boyfriend and keep making shitty music instead asshole.” The video ends with him flipping off the camera.

“Charming,” Eddie comments, pausing the video so it doesn’t endlessly loop, and turns to see Steve’s reaction. He runs a hand through his hair and shakes his head.

“He’s lying. I’ve been begging him to stop for weeks. Even slept on the couch in protest. But that last one was the last straw. I just… don’t know where to go,” Steve sits back against the couch and mumbles, “Fuck.”

Eddie shifts and looks at him. “Do you have any friends or family that could take you in?”

Steve laughs humorlessly. “My parent disowned me when they found out I was dating Billy. Didn’t want a bi son ruining the family image. I had to move in with Billy, and he used to be sweet really. Well… I thought he was for the first three months. When his TikTok career took off he moved to LA, and I felt like I had no choice but to go with him. I grew apart from the few friends I had before the move, and I was just stuck with Billy here. And I… I don’t know,” Steve sighs and puts his head in his hands. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to dump all of this on you. I just… haven’t really had anyone to talk to.” The man lifts his head, his eyes are tired and filled with unshed tears. He’s gorgeous really, but that’s the last thing Eddie needs to be thinking about.

Eddie takes a moment to consider things. Steve seems like a good guy. He has plenty of extra room in his too big apartment and money to spare that he doesn’t know what to do with. Honestly, he’s not meant for this lifestyle and never has been. He’s happy that his uncle Wayne is retired and living comfortably off his too big income, but it’s lonelier than he imagined it to be.

And with that thought Eddie tells Steve, “Then live here for a while. No pranks. I won’t use you for clout or whatever. I have a guest bedroom with its own private bathroom, and I usually never have visitors. And I hate parties, so you don’t have to worry about that either. I may be writing songs in the middle of the night, but my music room is fairly soundproof. And trust me, I would appreciate the company or feeling like my money is going toward something important.”

Steve stands up and shakes his head. “It’s okay, man. I don’t want your charity. You’ve already done enough.”

Eddie stays on the couch and says, “Please, Steve, stay a week or just a few days. If you hate it here, I’ll help you get on your way. But trust me when I say you’ll help me too. It’s…” he sighs and runs a hand over his face, “It’s lonely in LA.” He cringes as he quotes the title of his favorite song that he’s written. It’s also his least popular one, but it’s the most honest thing on any of his albums.

“Reminds me of that song,” Steve says with a small smile.

Eddie’s head snaps up. “You know it?”

Steve hums the chorus of Eddie’s song and Eddie joins in. Steve stops to ask, “You know it, too?”

Eddie huffs a laugh. “I wrote it.”

Steve looks at him for a few moments longer with a combination of shock and hesitation. Then he surprises Eddie by asking, “You really wouldn’t mind if I stayed?”

“Not at all. Unless you ended up doing something really drastic like trying to murder me.”

Steve snorts, and Eddie finds it endearing. He tries to shake the feeling away. He can not fall for this man when he’s a guest in his house and especially not after everything he’s been through. But then Steve gives him a real smile and holds out his hand saying, “It’s a deal.”

And when Eddie takes his hand and feels how warm and nice it feels in his, half of him wants to argue that it’s just because it’s been a while since he’s actually had a genuine conversation with another person. But the other half is quick to accept that he’s absolutely fucked when it comes to this stranger that he feels like he’s inevitably going to fall in love with.

[some-of-us-watch-the-sunset-too]

hii I don’t know if I’m supposed to give ya a prompt like said. But I’ve been feeling angstyyyy sooo if you can no bother my love, could ya do : all of the outsider boys reacting to you (s/o) death?

A/N: Hi anon! the post for the prompts thing is here but i’m taking requests too so dw! I’m feelin the angst rn so this was perfectly timed!

The boys if their S/O d!ed

———————————————————

⚠️ TW for death, implied suicidal thoughts ⚠️

Darry

He would go on living for the most part, not because he doesn’t care about the fact that you’re gone, but he just can’t afford to shut down. if he does, he risks losing Soda and Pony too.

He’d bring flowers to your grave once a week, on Wednesdays (don’t ask why i just decided this). Your favourite flowers. When the first bunch he put down dies, he gets someone he knows, (maybe Ponyboy, i feel like he’d dig arts and crafts) to either press the flowers or dry them so he always has them, even if they bring back painful memories.

To add to the whole getting flowers thing, he’d always take one out of each bunch, just like he did before your death to make sure that he replaces them as soon as they wilt.

He most likely got the call about your passing and had to tell the guys. He tried to stay calm while telling them but he broke down before he could finish.

Ponyboy

This hurts just to think about! He, unlike Darry would shut down completely. He’d be failing class, wouldn’t get out of bed and would hardly eat. If we count it as after Johnny and Dally die, that would be 3 people he cared about that died (other than his parents)

If you two watched the sunset together often i feel like he’d never watch it again. it would be too painful for him.

Whenever he gets into an argument with Darry he runs out of the house and straight to your grave. He’d sit there and vent to you and eventually fall asleep there. the guys probably put a bench by your grave so he’d sleep there.

I think that after he was functional again, he’d get very cold and bitter, kinda like Dally. He’d get into fights all the time and would start acting out. He just doesn’t know how to cope with you gone..

Sodapop

Sodapop would go to your grave everyday after work and just talk to you about his day. he would fill you in on everything going on with the guys, any rumbles or fights with socs, stuff like that.

I honestly think that if Soda was serious about your relationship he would have given you a promise ring. I think that even after you were gone he would keep wearing it and maybe even put yours on a chain and wear that under his t-shirt, right next to his heart.

If it was a violent death? He would completely stop fighting, he would only see it as a constant reminder of what happened to you, he would realise that it really didn’t do any good.

He wouldn’t fully shut down but i think he would stop hanging out with the guys so much and would get very quiet. He wouldn’t be his laughing, wild self anymore. He knows that isn’t what you would’ve wanted but how could he keep on joking when you were gone? how could he ignore it?

Dally

Dally would go on hating and fighting more than he ever did. The world took so much from him and now it took you too? Why should he care about anyone or anything if you weren’t there anymore.

He’d spend a lot of time at your grave. No talking, he’d just sit there and smoke a cigarette. Sometimes he’d silently cry, but he hates crying out in the open.

Dally would blame himself. It doesn’t matter how you passed away, he would look at every detail of the days leading up to your death and see if there was any moment where he could’ve done something to stop it. if it was a violent death, could he have stopped you from getting into that situation in the first place? if it was an accident, could he have stopped it from happening, could he have made it so that it was him instead?

Steve

Steve would be kind of like Dally. He’d hate and fight more than ever. How could the world be so cruel that he’d take you from him?

I feel like it could be his first proper experience with loss, which is different to the others that i’ve written about so far. He really wouldn’t know how to cope. he’d try to go on living, then he would shut down for a while, then he would probably just have to get out of town for a while.

I honestly think he’d do something drastic. Rob a gas station or snap and start a fight with his dad or something. He would get very reckless too. where he would be careful when competing in drag races, now he would speed up if anything.

He is so afraid of forgetting your face. He keeps a picture of you in his jacket pocket to make sure he doesn’t forget but he realises he’s starting to forget the smaller things like how you’d make this particular face when you’re being sarcastic, and how your face would light up when someone mentioned your favourite things.

Two-Bit

Two would start drinking even more, you were lucky to see him sober. He’d stop hanging out with the guys.

He would be angry for a while. Angry that you left him here alone. Of course he knows deep down that it’s not your fault but he can’t help it. Two probably went to your grave one day, drunker than ever. He started giving out that you left him and ended up throwing his bottle of beer at your headstone. That snapped him out of it. He picked everything up and cleaned the headstone best he could.

After the angry phase is gone he would start to write you letters filling you in on everything. He couldn’t bring himself to go to your gave so he just pretended you had moved far away. He puts them in a big box under his bed. He considered burning them, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it

He sometimes forgets you’re not there though. Say if he’s doing something he might yell “Y/N could you pass me the ___” then remember you’re not there and just sits down and cries, even a few years after.

Johnny

Johnny really can’t deal with it. With his parents being so bad and you being his main support, he couldn’t take it anymore.

I honestly think that he would run away, let everyone forget him. Sometimes he would consider the ways to see you again, but luckily someone always snaps him out of it.

He hangs out with the guys more than ever, it keeps him from shutting down completely. they become his main support, but he’s even more quiet, he sits a little outside of the group when in the curtis’ house.

After a few months of grieving he remembers a list you guys wrote about all your hopes and dreams. So he decides that he’s going to complete everything on it. He lives for the two of you.

[xinrouska]

Villain Leo Animatic - Breakdown

⚠️TW: Violence, Blood, Guns, Themes of suicide, Attempted murder

The animatic takes place over a few years, starting from when Leo reveals himself to his brothers again after a 3 year absence (23 years old). It focuses on the tension between Leo and Donnie as time goes on, Leo’s resolve crumbling while Donnie slowly loses himself as well. In other words, who’s really the villain? This is going to be very long, let’s get 🔪started🔪

The Coin

Sue me if it wasn’t obvious, I will not figure out how to animate a coin flipping. But the circle motif shows throughout the video because they’re twins, two sides of the same coin. What happens to one, will happen to the other.

The Pupils

The pupils were a signifier of their current moral standing. White for “villain” and black for “hero”. It could also be seen as insanity vs. sanity. You’ll notice that by the end of it, Leo and Donnie have switched but I also want to point out where and why:

Donnie

After Leo left, Donnie spent all his energy going into finding him. He’s worried, he cares, he wants his brother back regardless if Leo has committed murder. He couldn’t find him, and it’s here that Leo reveals he’s been working with Kendra for all tech related support.

Donnie and Kendra’s relationship at this point is more of a rivalry. They have a respect for each other and as much as Donnie hates to admit it, he looks forward to seeing the inventive ways Kendra can get in his way. She’s been a constant in his life since a teenager. However, she’s been a constant “enemy”.

Donnie sees this as the biggest betrayal against him. His own brother willingly teaming up with his rival like that. Leo’s supposed to be on his side, and this is so uncharacteristic to Donnie that it’s at this moment he realizes he doesn’t Know Leo anymore. This is where he loses hope on bringing Leo back because the Leo he knew doesn’t exist.

Leo

The animatic takes place over a few years, roughly three. We haven’t publicly explored what’s going in these years but a quick summary of it is that Leo has been spiraling further and further since the start. Since the Kraang invasion actually. His goal has always been to protect his brothers, it’s simply that his method of it became extreme, he became obsessed with it.

At this point, it’s near the end. He’s tired, he’s been questioning his motives, he doesn’t know if it’s all worth it, in comparison to his desire to just be with his family again. He fights with Donnie and he’ll never use lethal force against him, but that’s not the case with Donnie. Donnie is doing everything in his power to kill Leo and when Leo realizes this, his first thought is “what has my brother turned into?”. It’s sobering, reality crushing, when he realizes his own twin desperately wants him dead. He gives up.

First Chorus

I wanted a moment that showcases a bit of Leo’s skills and personality. He’s clever, strategic, manipulative, and his strongest weapons are his words. He knows this. He’s a good actor and he’s a performer, all to show that that’s the villain aspect of him that he’s struggling with. It taunts him. Still, he believes the best way to protect his family is to eliminate all threats possible.

Donnie’s progression are the stages of grief he’s going through realizing his brother is “dead”. He watches recordings of their past to figure out where things went wrong, but also to grieve.

Time is a bit vague here and there’s quite a bit that isn’t shown here actually. Leo has cut ties with Kendra (that’s a whole separate thing and the result is that Donnie hates Leo even more). Donnie watches Leo through the cameras throughout the city. Leo knows he’s being watched, it’s bittersweet, he’s already having doubts during this time. Donnie, during this time, has decided to transform the Genius Built company and turn it into tech powerhouse. It used to be a side project, but now he’s utilizing it to take over power on topside in terms of technology and economy. This is a parallel to how by this time, Leo has near full power and control in the undercity crime rings.

The Bridge

Leo questions everything he’s doing as the past taunts him of how things used to be, of how things Should be. Also dives into his reason for all of it. The Kraang hurt the people he loves the most, as if they were worthless.

On Donnie’s side, he’s more and more determined to take Leo down with his own hands. That is his sole goal. Everything he is doing and creating is for that purpose. But his inner child, a part of him that wishes for things to just be ok again, is desperate for him to stop, to question things and think. Also he’s CEO of GB at this point. Pretty straightforward with the Leo is the person he hates the most but was once his beloved brother.

The Fight

Donnie using lethal force to do everything in his power to kill Leo. Leo is more skilled than Donnie is, he has more experience killing but he absolutely will not kill his brothers, that goes against everything he’s working for. Because of that, Leo is destined to lose this fight. He also loses his will to fight after seeing how much Donnie needs to kill him. While Raph was the first trigger of starting all of this, Donnie is the second trigger of making him give up.

Donnie won because Leo still loved him dearly.

“I’m glad it was you.”

Of all the people to kill him, he’s genuinely glad it’s Donnie who’ll do it.

On the other hand, Donnie recognizes the resignation in Leo’s eyes, but after the last few years, he can’t help but wonder if it’s another trick. He feels Leo’s ninpo, and he hasn’t felt it in a very long time. It’s nostalgic, it’s comforting, but he’s already come too far. “I must kill Leo” has cemented into his mind as a fact.

Parallels

I included these parallels because I wanna highlight that they’re “two sides of the same coin”. They’re twins and their fate are closely tied together. Leo will kill anyone to protect his family. Donnie will kill Leo to protect everyone, including his family.

If you made it this far, thank you for reading! The story doesn’t end, Leo doesn’t die here, I should clarify that LOL. There’s a lot more of the story to cover but I’m glad I was finally able to show this aspect of the au. If you have any questions, feel free to message me (xinrouska) or starrcrossrose on twitter, instagram, or tumblr!

[ctheathy]

Yan! Miles Prower(Where was my Hero) or Yan! Nine(Prime) your choice please.Just basic headcannons for either one is fine please. Have a good day too

Yandere Miles Prower [Where Was My Hero] Headcanons

Miles “Tails” Prower x Reader

Yandere Headcanons

Author’s note : Good afternoon, Nonnie~! You’re in luck, I’ve been having immense brainrot about these two for the past month or so, because of this I’m willing to write for the both of them in separate posts.

We’ll start with Miles from Where Was My Hero? due to him being the first when it comes to the villain Tails concept. He also feels a whole lot more personal on my end, so that’s why =}

Yandere Nine + Differences ➷

WWMH Tails/Reader [Romantic]

+Slight Nine x Reader in bonus section [Romantic//platonic]

[Gender-neutral Darling|Female Darling|Male Darling]

Potential ⚠️TWs ⚠️ :

Possessive+Predatory behaviour • Sadistic behaviour [Not directed torwards darling] • Cunning characteristics • Descriptions of intense bullying • Delusions • Co-dependency • Implications torwards mass murder • Suicidal implication • stalking • Abuse of power

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This version of the Miles we all love and adore has been a very ... Ill-treated character. He’s been met with uncountable variants of both harassment and bullying, having him shown specifically being pushed around a lot by his persecutors. Other examples being his work getting destroyed to bits, nasty stares being given, insults being thrown left and right when given his presence, and pretty much just tormenting the poor thing to no end, for absolutely no reason nonetheless. The invalid reasonings and arrogant choices having turned his life into a living hell for the longest time. Yet even so, he still remained to be a sweet and gentle soul, but all it took was one last hit to completely push him over the edge.

You could have met the fox throughout his youth or perhaps even through adulthood, but that wouldn’t change anything within the unnatural behaviours the mobian would indicate torwards you in particular. Though there would certainly be quite the difference in both states when it comes to how his emotions seem to appear, the potential for yandere characteristics have always been there. And pushing him to that condition wouldn’t even be too difficult in itself, it honestly only requiring holding the bare minimum of decent behaviours. But as mentioned before, there will definitely still remain a few important changes out there in both his habits and mannerisms to take note of when describing the specific ageing state of his.

For example; there should be noted that he’d be one to fall a whole lot quicker at a younger age, the immense shock yet immediate admiration already glowing in his eyes right off the bat when you do as much as defend him from the bystanders’ ridicule. Even just not looking down upon him like any other he has crossed paths with can already make the fox completely smitten with ease, almost making the fox cling to you like it’s the only bit of life support left for him. His adoration is also one to grow rather quickly over time, inserting his obsessive streaks who are slowly starting to find themselves into both of your lives right off the bat. Young Miles isn’t necessarily one to stand to violence at any early points, but that really does not mean he’s not capable of it if it fits his desires. But for now on, he’d much rather prefer to just let you do whatever you want to him, and perhaps acts on the unsavoury side that include watching you from afar and collect any of the potential items you may leave behind right for the taking, having no realisation over the fact how creepy his ways truly are, despite how much his delusions may try to convince him otherwise. Other than the stalker-ish tactics he may hold, he couldn’t really be considered harmful torwards his darling in any way, but it’s rather his own stability and the safety of anyone around which is put at intense risk.

Where the real threat comes in is how he’d quite literally do anything his beloved asks of him, and while these may just be small and innocent gestures, this could also include those who could be considered dangerous or even meant as ill-intented. If his darling is one to be the manipulative type, it’s only then when real victims start to appear. It unquestionably confirming the fact that he’d really be just as dependent on you as the original Tails Prower would, and while Miles may have been identical to him at some point, you’d be able to notice how careless he actually grows torwards any other life over time. Starting to view them as lack of priority and instead just wanting to concentrate on the goal of keeping you satisfied with him.

When he became an adult, however ... He is described to have straight up become a sadistic, uncaring and perhaps even considered detached mobian right after the accident; being robbed of all emotion and feelings zero remorse for any other being out there in a way of advancing the little bird that had lost its life for his sake. The most fitting way to directly say it would just be saying that he’s apathetic; apathetic torwards any life around his own. Though I don’t believe that to be entirely true. Not for this case, at least. As right on the other hand, when having met him around the matured years of his, he’d fall harder than his younger self, but he seems to have trouble showcasing this; while clearly being more gentle with his darling in indirect mannerisms, he’d unfortunately still remain rather dispassionate when it comes to their affectionate demeanour showing, the fear of both betrayal and slight distrust in their genuineness holding him back, much like it would with Nine aswell.

But unlike Nine, Miles could be considered to be a whole lot more low-key; operating as a cold and calculated mobian and usually keeping to himself in order to keep his schemes under control, where Nine instead has no hidden motives to concentrate on. Miles’ behaviour would very much symbolise that of a chess player; gaining the upper hand and power through manipulation and being more patient in the category than Nine is. Another thing that should be mentioned is how you can barely even read the fox’ facial expressions and body language, it almost seeming as if it has been plastered into a mere poker face on the daily, making it difficult to keep up with any plans and tricks he might have up his sleeve.

Another thing I’d wish to concentrate on is how forceful and cunning he can become in his position of power when the darling is one to be disobedient. Though never wishing to cause any physical harm onto his darling, and absolutely demolishing anything and everyone that manages to even lay a finger on them; I can however see him enjoying the idea of toying with them. May that be through small tactics that could affect you emotionally or overall just playing with your desire for escaping, even if he has made it very obvious that leaving isn’t even an option for you anymore. He’d likely be one to get your hopes up, only to crumble all of it into bits at the last second. Much like the adjustments he’s made on his own self over the years, specifically the spider-like antennae on his back would also be something that could definitely describe the fox and his characteristics. When you manage to find your way into his heart, there’s unquestionably no getting out of it. This part of the dynamic could very much resemble the prey and predator trope, much like being stuck in the web of the insect itself.

Having worked himself up to an incredibly high rank, he’s most certainly going to take you in with or without your consent. It’s not like he doesn’t care about your feelings and boundaries, but he believes other topics to be prime concern, especially when being very well aware of the fact that it’s quite the opposite of safe out there. All he’s doing it for is in order to keep you secure and sheltered-! Yeah... Atleast, that’s what he tells himself. When realistically, hidden somewhere in the back of his head, it’s much closer to keeping the core that keeps his mental state stable locked up for his own stability. Even as he got older, the only real things who’d ever treated him decently being his machinery creations aside from-well-- you. But he’d never be able to admit to himself that he is still this reliant on another, especially after making himself out to be so independent as the feared and well-known mastermind everyone knew him as. But another thing that would have pushed him on edge even further would be the fact that it’s still undoubtedly dangerous out there. He knows his creations have the mechanics to target and attack anything moving, and he sure as hell doesn’t want you to fall victim to his robotic comrades.

Even when abducted, I can the fox being rather on the paranoid side, questioning his ability to keep you safe while being such a wanted delinquent. If anything, you may or may not already be able to notice a pinch of his sanity slipping away even further if you manage to get hurt in the slightest. I can also see the fox having quite the struggle when it comes to showing you his genuine intentions and emotions. Hiding his true feelings behind a large wall that seemingly lacks any kind of emotion... But if anything, it might even be the complete opposite when paying attention to the little details; perhaps when diving deeper into it, he might even be considered as emotional. In a way, he behaves incredibly repulsive torwards any of the affection you offer, often flinching at the slightest hint of a touch and usually even just avoiding it at a regular basis. But right at the same time, he clearly craves it; unintentionally leaving out small hints here and there when he longs for the simplest act such as holding your hand. Making it more than obvious that despite wanting to deny it on severe levels, he is just vulnerable as his younger self would be.

Something on a sweeter note, however, he’d certainly compare you to the little bird he nursed back to health when he was younger. He’s never had many creatures whom he could share his love with ... Aside from his pet bird, practically none, even. And because of this, he feels incredibly understood and puts a lot of trust in you for even allowing him to adore you like this, especially when considering your position. He hasn’t experienced a lot of joy in his life, but you? You make him happy. He understands your feelings may not be mutual to his own, but to him; you truly are his forever. The longer you’re with him, the closer he becomes to reaching the point of believing you to be the only dream and motive left for Mobius entirely. And though feeling a bit guilty for not showing it as much as he should have, he had always already found you to be the one hope left in this pitiful universe. You’re one of a kind to him, and he had finally gotten his hands onto a true motive to keep himself going; making you shine at your best.

Even if it requires his own demise in order to get you to that point.

Bonus section #1 : Similarities

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An early yet important part to take note of is that both would absolutely not hesitate to get violent when it comes to their darling. Both live in fairly dangerous environments and given the circumstances with their behaviour, they’re definitely going to be ferociously overprotective when it comes to you. When looking at both foxes, I do however see Miles as a much bigger threat when it comes to the safety of any other living being out there. Instead of attacking them out of pure instinct and an obvious outburst of rage like Nine would, Miles is eerily calm about the entire situation, instead making a mental note of the said mobian and making very well sure to make their life a living hell before coldly finishing them off in a brutal manner. And tho they’d both usually be the type preferring to avoid conflict, neither would be uncertain to shed blood or better said, even take lives for your sake.

However, there would definitely be a major weak point that could be used against the both of them with ease; affection. They both have no clue on how to indicate it and how to react to it. Being as lonely as the two have always been in their lives, it’s no surprise to say that such acts leave them completely bewildered and perhaps even somewhat flustered with zero doubt. It may often even be considered awkward in a way, but they seem to crave it to severe extends right at the same time. Unquestionably, they could be seen as touch starved, acting reserved and perhaps even defensive about the entire thing, but melting in your hands when you do the simplest thing such as giving a scratch behind their ears. Over time they’d have a higher chance of getting dependent on your physical love, it literally becoming closer to a need to get through the day. And having no real reasons to hold them back and restrict their limits this time, both foxes might even become somewhat overbearing torwards their darling in response to it.

Another thing is how they’d both seem like the type to get attached rather quickly torwards those who are decent enough to treat them properly. They’ve honestly lacked any kind of politeness for so long that they’d immediately get completely faithful torwards those who show them kindness. The only thing truly holding them back being the question lingering in the back of their heads how long they’ll be able to put up with them before they start treating them like everyone else had done. But like most variants of Tails do, they are honestly in such a high class of emotional devotion to a point where they cannot get themselves to care for it for long.

At last I’d like to mention is how they both wished for the better in the world at atleast some point in their lives. They want to live in a place where all is well and good, wanting to get back the childhood that they’ve been robbed of. Wanting to create a future with you next to them. And though Miles never got the chance to recreate a world to his own favour, he wants to improve the world for your sake. He knows the amount of power he holds over their entire societies, and he will make damned sure to make good use of it, not seeming to care much about the clear misuse of power. Every act shall be done to fit your benefits and they shall not stop until it’s completely adjusted to your preferences. Hypocritically believing it would validate each and every single death and perhaps even the fall of Mobius itself during the process. It would really just become your own world, and they, including Miles are only just living in it.

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[xxlemon-chanxx]

Ok, what about if philip/belos has a partner toxic as him but they still love each other?

Now—there are a LOT of relationship dynamics that fall under the general “toxic” umbrella. I'm going to go ahead and explain the one my mind went to first when I initially read this ask, so it might not be the same version of “toxic” that you're thinking of. I'm sorry in advance!

Also, this is going to be more or less the same between Philip and Belos, so I'm not going to do two separate sections, and I'm just going to explain the one that I'd find more interesting narratively.

So—here’s the “toxic” relationship that I first imagined:

⚠️⚠️TW for suicide baiting and general emotionally abusive behaviors!⚠️⚠️

overly dependant, insecure SO who constantly needs reassurance and hangs off of Belos’s every action because they worry he’ll grow bored of them and leave them, and is overall very possessive of him to the point of being incapable of wanting to leave Belos’s side for even a moment + overly-controlling and manipulative Belos who revels in the idea that his love is too desperate to ever want to leave him despite his flaws.

S/O can barely stand it. Their husband constantly talks to countless people every day—its part of his job description as the annihilator of an entire populous! And there are so many talented, intelligent, and attractive witches that make up the castle staff. They can't help but feel that rush of anxiety in their chest when one of said witches needs to talk to their husband—seriously, why not give the news to them? They'd be more than happy to pass along the message to their husband if it was really THAT important.

Even when Belos tells them countless times that he'd never trade them for a witch, no matter how much venom is in his voice as he practically spits the word, there's that lingering doubt. They're so much prettier. Does he think those witches walking the halls are prettier than them? His gauntlet lingered by that coven head’s hand for a few moments too long for their tastes, surely that means he's having an abhorrent love affair with that witch.

Whenever their anxiety flares up like this, it inevitably ends in a freakout and breakdown. They’ll fall to their knees at Belos’s feet, clutching letters that were strictly business but had just enough reverent language from an underling for S/O to misconstrue as romantic or intimate feelings between them.

They’ll scream, they’ll cry, initially demanding to know why he'd trade them for a witch, after all they've given him. What do they have that they don't? What could they possibly offer him? Is it their body? They're prettier than me, is that it? Are they smarter than me? What is it, damn you? What? What? WHAT?

Then, after Belos manages to calm them down, that rage turns to sorrow as they realize that they snooped through their husband's possessions, his private, confidential letters to find evidence that didn't even exist. They’ll apologize incoherently, clutching at his robes, spewing promise after promise that this was going to be the last time, that they were never going to snoop again and please don't leave them because they can't imagine a world where he doesn't want them, and please, if he doesn't want them, they might just die. No, scratch that. They WILL die. They. Will. DIE. If he tosses them out like trash.

And as they fumble out their apologies and half-baked, empty, rehearsed promises, Belos simply wraps them in his arms, tucking their head under his chin as a soft, tired smile graces his lips. He knows this will not be the last time, but he can't bring himself to be too annoyed by it. After all, he does partially enjoy a few of the behaviors his beloved exhibits.

He loves the way they're practically attached to his hip. He loves the way he never has to worry whether or not they're truly loyal to him or if they genuinely love him. That desperation is so thick he could cut it with a knife and spread it on toast. He doesn't need to constantly have his hand in them like a sock puppet because they follow him around like a lovesick puppy, staying quiet and out of the way while he does the important work and then swooping in during down moments to squeeze in some affection and much-needed fishing for reassurance.

He still lies to them, obviously. His dishonesty is probably the biggest trigger for S/O’s insecurity. Nevertheless, S/O would never leave Belos because—well…who else would willingly put up with that level of inconvenience? And Belos would never want them to leave because that's the most loyal and devoted to him someone could possibly be, and they're a human who accepts him despite his issues. Why in the Hells would he ever give that up?

[spritehouse]

pt. 3

⚠️tw for suicide (jj's sister) & suicidal idealization

<- part 2 | part 4 ->

I DELETED MY SAD HOTCH AND PENELOPE SCENE PACKS bc i ran out of storage :[

[aleksanderscult]

I loved your analysis! Can you analyse the (barely there, not enough) Darklina scenes from the KOS duology? I could not rationalize some of what was going on there.

First of all, I'm so sorry for taking that long to reply, anon! (Hasn't it been over two weeks since you send this or what??😭😭)

Second, thank you so much for your kind words! 💗💗

Third, you and I both friend 🤝🤝

'Cause honestly I didn't know what the fuck was happening in that interaction too 😭

I'll actually analyze the only Darklina scene we got in RoW. But if you want another one too, just send me an ask!

So! Let's dive in and analyze that hot mess, shall we?

(note: I had to go back and read this scene very carefully in order to understand what the actual fuck they were saying💀)

⚠️TW!: PTSD, trauma⚠️

The way he's so obedient with her even in this life 😭

If somebody else had ordered him to do that, he wouldn't obey. But Alina? Alina is a different story and this is the first time he hears her voice since his death in R&R.

'Any little victory'

Uhh....okay...??

You made him wipe his feet. I'm.... impressed??

(confusion levels 📉)

LMAO MY BOY WOKE UP AND CHOSE VIOLENCE

I always believed that the dynamic between Aleksander and Alina involves lots of teasing. But not in the fun sense. But in the sense of "I'm getting under your skin. My words to you sting".

And that's what the Darkling does here too. He's a prisoner. Their prisoner. So he tries to gain the upper hand by using his wits, his past with Alina and the latter's trauma against her to get even.

Pretty clever, huh?

See what I mean?

He tries to weaken her confidence and it's interesting that back in Keramzin he also tried to get even (and he did) by killing her mother figure.

Aleksander: "Wanna fuck with me? Wanna mess with me? How about that time when I burnt that orphanage and killed your "mother"?"

*Alina's sure confidence is gone and now the Darkling has the upper hand in her feelings*

OUTSTANDING MOVE 👌

Excuse me, Misha? Who the Hell gave you the permission to interrupt or talk at all??

Also, do you really expect from the Darkling to remember a little boy while he was too busy trying to rule a nation, win a war and persuade Alina to join him?

And if you also expect him to remember you from that time when Baghra went out to confront her son while you escorted her, then you're also wrong. 'Cause he was too busy being furious that his mother sided and helped the opposite side and too busy being distraught because he was watching her fall to her death.

You're not important, son.

Sit down.

LMAO THIS IS SO HILARIOUS

Misha you're still an infant. Please shut up.

I honestly liked him in the Grisha Trilogy (I found him a cutie) but now I want to slap him and everyone else in this duology except Aleksander

The Darkling has survived numerous murdering attempts against him. He was finally killed by Alina not because of some grand display of her powers but because the former was so heartbroken by Alina's fate (and his own because he would be alone) that he just gave up on his life. Basically he committed suicide.

Misha, you wouldn't be able to kill him even now that he's powerless and in chains. Probably you would stumble and fall in the effort or smth.

Uhh actually no, Mal.

Threating him only makes you sound like idiots, honestly.

Also, since when did Mal gained ✨wisdom✨?

Wasn't he the hot-tempered one in the trilogy who always got angry with the mere mention of the Darkling? And the one who wanted to kill him as well?

Alina, you know damn well what his name is.

Honestly, I think she didn't say it because she wanted to respect the fact that he trusted her to keep it.

And I agree that Yuri is a horrible name for him. Makes him seem like a fisherman 😭

Meanwhile Alina in S&B:

So either Bardugo kinda forgot these scenes or we're led to believe that these scenes weren't her being happy, but we thought she was happy.

(me casually ignoring that theory because I choose to believe only the things that MAKE SENSE)

The fact that Bardugo made Alina believe that she was unhappy when she was whole with her powers and surrounded by people like her but totally happy now that she has no powers (a part of her soul actually) and living with a man that slut-shamed her in a toxic, childhood place is umm... yeah. Not good.

So basically:

Aleksander: "You look different. You look like shit. What the fuck did they do to you? This is not you"

Alina: "No bro I'm happy now that I live in toxic conditions where the teachers mock me, Mal takes me out for a walk to forget my psychological traumas and I raise some Grisha children that will fade because they don't use their powers and some others that I probably am in no condition to raise. At least that's what the author said is happiness, bro."

Aleksander: "......."

Alina: "......"

The readers: "........."

ALEKSANDER IS HONESTLY ALL OF US FRR WITH HIS LINES

"In peace"

Yeah, having PTSD certainly is peaceful. And knowing that you abandoned your country and left its fate to chance certainly makes you sleep like a baby at night.

"We chose the life we wanted"

Alina, you didn't CHOOSE to lose your powers. And before that you didn't even know what you wanted to do with your life. It was a last minute decision for you.

"I fell pray to the same greed that drove you"

Girl, are we the only ones who did our homework??

In his POV in RoW he confirmed that he tampered with merzost in the past because he wanted to stop Ravka's wars. So as far as we know he never used power exclusively for himself.

"I paid the price for tampering with merzost"

Now hold a second. I thought that the reason Alina lost her powers is because Morozova wanted that said power to be shared by any otkazat'sya around. It wasn't that much of a punishment as much as a need for Morozova to share that power.

Unless it was..... both?

I just want a guy that will believe in me and my abilities the way Aleksander does with Alina, man 😭

He strongly believes that she could become a Queen even without her powers. And he's actually so right when he says to her that her wounds won't heal. Because no matter how much you try to convince yourself that you are alright. No matter how hard you try to persuade your mind that you're not broken, reality will always hit you. Some wounds never heal and Alina's certainly will not. She didn't lose a toy, she lost a part of her soul and witnessed many die. How the hell does she think she's suitable to raise children, when she herself is NOT okay psychologically?

"In the wake of your wars"

Excuse me. Why is the Fjerdan and Shu wars always the Darkling's fault??

"And maybe when our country is free, then that wound will close"

She sounds so brainwashed bye--

And just like I said, wounds like that never close unfortunately. It can only become more bearable with time. But not forgetable.

Ah yes. Bardugo makes us watch how cute their relationship is.

Am I supposed to take off my camera and snap pictures of them whispering with tears in my eyes: "They look so adorable"?

'Cause I won't.

The way Bardugo has made Mal unfazed by the Darkling's comments. A thing that completely contrasts his nature in the Grisha trilogy.

He also made him have "sassy" lines because we've got to like him somehow, right? 🤗

Still hate him

Basically, dear anon, the author has made Mal more "likeable", immune to the Darkling's insults, patient and witty in order for us to change our mind about him and finally like him.

(mission failed btw)

He is literally nothing like his trilogy counterpart and, if possible, she made him more annoying.

(how the hell she managed to do that, I don't know)

I just feel sorry for Aleksander who has to deal with all these jerks. If I were there, I would have helped him kill them and bury their bodies.

Because you let your heart and feelings get the better of you, Aleksander. Because you proved to be the most human of all these characters here. You let her come close. And that's what killed you.

(also, shut up Misha)

Alina, you could have said "no" to that invitation. So stop acting like they dragged you from the hair here.

"Do you think you could manage it?"

Do you, Alina? 'Cause really, what did YOU do to make the lives of Grisha better? At least he built a palace for them.

"It's not like you didn't get a fair try before. Hundreds of tries"

Yeah, and half of them failed because you got in the way. You refused to listen to him and, even if you didn't like the way he dealt with the persecution, you chose to run away (again) instead of deciding to stay and do better.

SHE DID NOT JUST SAY THAT ZOYA AND NIKOLAI COULD DO BETTER LMAO 😭😭

Zoya, the very fact that he mentioned you should feel like a badge of honor.

And yet Ravka is in its worst condition ever.

Sorry Alina but I don't see shit from them.

The fact that the Darkling keeps mentioning that he's eternal is to remind them that he has seen everything and done everything. He has more experience than they will ever have. Not to gloat about it. And yet Alina takes it as the latter.

And it's funny that Alina turns him down for the job saying he has no powers when Alina herself suffers from the same condition 😀

Finally someone with self-reflection.

THAT'S WHAT I'M SAYING!!

PREACH!! PREACH!! 👏👏

When you have the "villain" exposing the true problem in the story, the flaws and failures while having the heroes screaming "EVERYTHING IS FINE. YOU'RE WRONG!" then you know that something is wrong.

How the Hell are they gonna provide eternal peace in Ravka and to the Grisha when:

They have no experience

They are too busy criticizing the villain instead of looking at their own flaws

They doubt themselves

(you can add to the list, guys)

And he's not shaken because he's talking with a Saint, Zoya. He's shaken because he's talking to Alina. She always had a way in getting under his skin. He said it.

"Fine. Make me your villain" fits here 'cause he never perceived himself as the bad guy but he knew that this is what others thought of him.

I think it still stung to him to know that others saw his every action in a negative light but he still kept going. And sometimes he even used it (at the end of R&R).

Alina still wants to believe that there's something redeemable inside him. Her POVs were always the "kindest" in the way they painted the Darkling.

MISHA COULD YOU PLEASE SHUT IT

What about his mother, huh??

Who, despite the abuse he suffered from her, he still cared about??

Alina?? Oh boy, he was in love with her, obsessed and gave her so many chances. Something that he almost never does unless he's desperate.

So PRETTY PLEASE STOP TALKING

Meanwhile the Darkling in R&R, chapter 11:

"I have regretted many of the things I’ve had to do in this war."

So either Bardugo forgot that or Alina did or Aleksander changed his mind.

Or (my theory) Bardugo changed his perception in order for us to feel less sympathetic towards him.

Nevertheless, at least he has a spine and knows where he stands.

And Alina wanted the Darkling to say it not for him but for her. So she can feel okay. Unless Zoya is talking bullshit.

YES ALEKSANDER WHY DIDN'T YOU LIE SO OUR HEROINES COULD FEEL BETTER ABOUT THEMSELVES???!!

HOW DARE YOU?? 😠😠

He tries so hard to persuade her that the reality she lives in will not pay off anything. First off, this is not who she is or what she was meant to become and second, why does she teaches children stories that are lies? Feeding them false hope, repeating a circle that others had also been doing.

"Do you *really* believe..."

He wants to make sure that she stands by that. He just can't believe that this is her opinion. Her choice.

He just wants her to shine people!! 😭😍

"Those stories tell us the only people who matter are Kings and Queens. They're wrong"

Now tell me, Alina, which stories do YOU tell them? What do you teach them? That the world is as rosy as the orphanage they live in, where they only eat sugar and play the piano? Do you imagine what kind of reality check will those children get once they live in the real world?

And here, ladies and gentlemen, we see the Darkling having reached his limits and saying "Fuck this shit I'm out"

Congratulations, Aleksander! You survived that meeting with these buffoons and their groundless arguments!! 👏👏

Here, have this! 🏅

He saw his chance (Alina holding Mal's hand) and seized it. But I think he really meant all those questions he asked to Alina.

So, dear anon, what we have here is the villain making his effort (again) to be heard and understood. He tries to make them see his own point of view: Ravka is in serious danger and Zoya and Nikolai are in no position to protect it. He, on the other hand, can since he has more experience and balls to deal with these issues. The Darkling is no pussy. He truly makes hard decisions when he must, something that essentially all rulers must do when the situation calls for it.

But! We have the good guys silencing him and threating him (even having a little child to do the last one) in order for the reader to understand what he has left in his wake. How much pain he has caused.

Mal has gotten ✨magically✨ wiser and calmer and has actual wits to repel the Darkling's insults in order for us to get to like Mal and see how much he has changed.

Alina sounds like a brainwashed woman who is convinced that her lifestyle is great! That wanting something more (idk. a throne and changing the world maybe) is sinful and unfitting of her.

Aleksander is the only one who thinks otherwise for her, though. Thank God, I mean!

He sought Alina out both to reclaim his powers and because he just wanted to see her.

Personally, in this scene only the Darkling makes sense. The others either want to feel good about themselves by threating him or want to convince him that "Hey, we're the good ones here. We know what we're doing, okay?" and his own ways are shit.

Dear anon, if you have any other questions or want me to analyze any other Darklina scene from this book or duology that I didn't include, then just say so!

And please any others who want to add something about this scene, feel free to criticise in the comments! 💛💛

[reneeluv154]

Anger

I hope you enjoy it!!!🤍🤍🤍

In this imagine you made it to the safe haven and newt helps you through your emotions while your still struggling with the loss of the others.

(More on my profile if you enjoy this one.) 🫶🏼🫶🏼

⚠️Tw: mentions of suicide⚠️

I stared at Newt, glaring at him through the flames of fire between us. We were finally in the safe haven and everyone was happy, everyone but me. I couldn’t remember the last time I truly smiled, or really felt anything for that matter. How could they be smiling and laughing?

We lost so many wonderful lives and they were just over it? I didn’t understand. Having Gally back was relieving, he was never the nicest person, to anyone, but he had grown, and it showed.

“Y/n, you good?” Minho questioned, Newt’s eyes locked with mine and I quickly looked away. “Yeah.” I sounded cold and mean, I held a little bit of anger against them, I just didn’t understand how they were okay. It was selfish, the others would have loved to be here. Yes, we carved their names on the rock but it just didn’t feel like enough. They deserved so much more.

I stood grabbing one of Gally’s drinks while walking towards the beach. I made it to the shore leaving the dancing and laughter behind. I sat down and stared out upon the endless ocean. I wished I could dig deep into my heart, take my pain, and let it drift out into the sea.

“I miss you guys, It’s not the same without you here.” I scoffed, taking a swig. “I’m so fucking angry, why not me. I wanted to die.” I said looking from the sky to the ground.

I whispered, “I still wanna die.”

“Pretty isn’t it?” I jumped hearing the all too familiar voice of a brown-eyed blonde-haired boy. He sat down beside me staring up at the starry sky.

“Yeah, gorgeous.” I agreed.

“I heard you talking.” I was drowning in embarrassment and grief.

“I just want them to know.” He nodded now it was his turn to take a swig. “They know Y/n, they're watching us every day.”

I shook my head.

“That’s supposed to make it easier?”

He shrugged, “Maybe a little, yes. I’m not saying you can’t mourn, because you can, but you’ve gotta learn to move on.” This made me angry.

“Like you? Five fucking day’s after they were gone.”

He looked at me, clenching his jaw, his eyes were angry. “I had to stay strong for you and the others, I’m bloody hurt Y/n. I’ve been hurt for a long, long time! You don’t get to tell me I was a bad person when I was just trying to keep you and the others alive!” He blew up on me, his voice louder and bolder than ever.

I couldn't look at him, the tears in my eyes rolling down my cheeks. Maybe I should kill myself, He would stay strong so the others would be okay, right? They wouldn't miss me, not like I bring anything good to the group. I would get to see the others as well. “I know that look Y/n, I can see it in your eyes, I’ve seen it in your eyes for a long time and I promise you it won’t make anything better.”

How did he know…

“I’m sure y'all would be fine.”

He shook his head. “Nope, we wouldn't.”

“I’m just so angry.” I gritted my teeth and clenched my fists. I sat for a minute looking at the sky when I realized. “It’s like I’m the moon and the stars are everyone in my life.” “

“I think you’ve had a tad too much to drink Y/n.”

“No. The moon and the stars adorn each other. Without the stars, the moon is just the moon.”

“Follow me.”

He stood and began walking, I walked up and stood beside him in front of a cluster of rocks. “I want you to throw that bottle as hard as you can, letting it shatter against those rocks.”

“What?” I asked

He nodded, “Scream as loud as you want, you can even cry if you’d like. Here I’ll give you my glass too.”

I shook my head. “The others will think something is wrong.”

“They can’t hear you from here.” He handed me the glass and backed up sitting on a log behind him.

“Go on. Let it out.”

Taking a moment I took the glass throwing it as hard as I could at the biggest rock there was, it shattered.

A tear ran down my cheek as I grabbed the other glass watching it fly through the air and shatter just as the other one did.

It felt too good tears now pouring down my face, I searched for anything to throw picking up smaller rocks and shells.

“Aghhhhhhh!!!!” I screamed as loud as I could feeling a sharp pain through my head, but I couldn’t stop,

“They should be here!!!”

“I loved them!!!”

“I should have hugged you when I had the chance!!!” I sobbed, still throwing whatever I could find before I ran out of breath and fell to my knees. “It should have been me!” I felt a gentle hand on my back, another on my cheek pulling me into himself.

“Shhh, that's not true love.”

I cried for a long time, even after Newt carried me back to my hut and tucked me in before he sat down in a chair beside my bed to keep an eye on me and calm me down.” I eventually fell asleep having a strong headache but also a sense of emotional relief.

[bits-and-babs]

Mangled || Kane (Annihilation) x Reader

-> Rating: VERY 18+

-> Word Count: 10.4k!!!!

-> When tasked with a suicide mission, feelings for your colleague cloud your judgement. A celebration of Friday the 13th!

Gif Credit does not belong to me!

⚠️ CW/TW: !HORROR! LONG-ASS SLOW BURN ISH FIC BUT THE SMUT IS WORTH IT I SWEAR. Mentions of: war, infidelity, gore, death, injury, I don’t know if you’d call this hunter x prey vibes, kind of? DUBCON THEMES and vague allusions to pregnancy. Definite themes of: Hair pulling, breath play, rough sex, unprotected p in v sex, anal play, cream pie. Jesus, anything else?! ⚠️

When bodies are cast into rivers, they typically sink slowly beneath the surface and into the murky water below for days, sometimes weeks at a time. Only with decomposition and an accumulation of gas beneath the skin does that same body float back up to the surface, often disfigured and putrefied. This wasn’t so unlike the fear you had pushed down upon entering The Shimmer, drowning your nerves inside the depths of your being- but that same discomfort was beginning to float to the surface, twisting and disfigured into something more akin to terror.

Your team of Green Berets had witnessed unspeakable horror in your tours across the globe. People were blown to bits by IEDs in Afghanistan, and the genocide of Rohingya in Myanmar. Friends had lost their limbs, you’d carried your colleague's coffins across the airport tarmac with the Stars and Stripes draped across the lid. None of this could possibly have prepared you for the dreadful beauty behind the oil-slick Shimmer wall.

It had been subtle at first. You’re no scientist, but you had been certain on arrival that some of the flora that grew within the Shimmer was atypical of nature. Crossbreeds between wild roses and bluebells - an impossible mixture. It had painted a thin sheen of uneasiness throughout your body, ultimately grasping that things inside The Shimmer were beyond scientific understanding. That was, you believe, six days ago. It was hard to tell exactly, given the team would frequently lose track of time. Days' worth of food rations would disappear overnight, and you would often awake in entirely new places while not remembering having set up camp.

Continuously breaching your understanding, the scenes you witnessed became more bizarre, more unnerving as time went on. Large creatures far exceeding their natural size, almost Goliath-like, sounds that didn’t fit the fauna of the South-East coast. It was day three that these hybrid creatures had started their attack. One soldier had been dragged behind the bushes kicking and screaming by their legs into the blackness of the night, grasping fruitlessly at the air in an attempt to escape the jaws of whatever had him. Upon inspection of the surrounding area, red blood streaks gave you reason enough to believe he wasn’t coming home. Another vanished without a trace from behind the rest of the platoon with no explanation as to where he had gone or what had taken him.

You knew the prognosis. Area-X had made it exceedingly clear that not one person had passed through The Shimmer and returned. There was no explanation, no obvious guilty party for the missing soldiers, just an unspoken promise that those who followed them would suffer the same fate.

“Well, there are two theories of what went wrong in the Shimmer.”

“One, something kills them.”

Then, on day five, psychosis set in. Shared hallucinations, paranoia. Your fingerprints begin to twirl, spinning like whirlpools at the tips of your appendages. The unsettling and frankly bizarre sight is not the worst of it, however, the third member of your platoon, Mayer, succumbing to sporadic delusions, screaming into the quiet of the army base you had camped in overnight that his insides moved.

Sergeant Kane tied Mayer to a chair at the deep end of the empty swimming pool in the abandoned gym of the military base, insisting that you hold the flailing man by his shoulders to steady his abdomen. No spoken decision led to the events that happened that night, instead, it was as though the three of you shared a hive mind. Resigning to his fate, Mayer had simply heaved agonized breaths as Kane gutted him like a fish with a Swiss Army knife to expose his vital organs. Had it not been for the camera Kane had set up to capture every second of the faux surgery, you wouldn’t have believed you were witnessing your colleagues' insides wriggle throughout his abdomen like giant, fleshy tapeworms.

“Two, they go crazy and kill each other.”

Mayer’s corpse witnessed Kane spend hours frantically scrubbing his colleague's blood from the creases in his knuckles, bloodied army knife discarded in the algae-infested water beside his feet. He had insisted upon taking watch throughout the rest of the night, far too worked up from the events of the early evening to want to go to sleep. There, on the floor of the army base as you grasped desperately at the thread of unconsciousness, it had dawned on you that you and Kane were the only ones left.

Day six, grasping tightly onto your gun, your eyes pass over the lush green of the forest that surrounded you. The beauty of the flowers and the refracted light bathing the floor in rainbows is obsolete now, no longer settling your anxiety like it was probably designed to. The muscles in your shoulders are taut with stress, zeroing your attention on the treeline.

Seven years in the military had strengthened your mind, harderned it to outside stressors that would affect your ability to survive. You’d seen unimaginable horrors, been exposed to the worst of humanity and to life-or-death situations more times than you could count, enough that there was barely anything that phased you. But you can feel it now, horror and insanity twisting in your bone marrow, threatening to claw its way out of you in a scream. Fear.

“Hey Angel,” a soft voice cuts through the silence of the ethereal forest, startling you from your downward spiral into hysterics. When you look, the panicked thrumming of your heart slows to a steadier pulse.

“You doin’ okay?” He questions you gently, settling in his usual spot on your left side as he trudges through the forest flooring. You always considered yourself skilled at maintaining neutral body language, at masking your concerns, but Kane had cracked every single emotional cipher over his time with you like some kind of humanoid enigma code.

You’d known Kane the majority of your military career, having experienced three tours around the world by his side. He’d joked when he first met you in the mess hall in Iraq that he needed a woman to keep him on the straight and narrow after his wife resigned from the military to pursue teaching at John Hopkins, choosing to stay by your side ever since. A religious man, he’d led you in prayer before expeditions, had offered his rations to you when you were struggling for energy on particularly brutal missions. These shared sufferings had made him more of a brother than a colleague.

You nod slowly, a non-verbal acknowledgment of his question as your eyes continue to scan the treeline. It’s an obvious lie. There’s a cold sweat breaking out across the paling skin of your face, the camo uniform you wore clinging to your back and aiding in the claustrophobia washing over you despite being in a wide-open space.

Kane doesn’t argue, doesn’t even speak, instead opting to mirror your motions with a barely-there nod of his head. Guilt washes over you when you glance at him, taking in his uncharacteristically disheveled appearance. His hair, usually meticulously gelled back, falls in loose, messy ringlets around his head. He’s grown stubble after days of not shaving, and his skin is dirtied with dried blood and dirt. Most alarming are his eyes, bloodshot and almost wild, with deep purple under-eye circles that look as though the environment had beaten him down, bruising his skin with exhaustion. He looks unhinged.

Perhaps it was cruel to keep a secret from him, given the circumstances, but you can’t admit to him that you’re scared. That you’re angry with him. The sinking feeling that settled in your stomach upon seeing him sat at the back of the briefing room when Area-X called you in for assessment had made bile rise in your throat, his face the last you had wanted, or even expected, to see in the line up of those who were to take part in this suicide-mission into The Shimmer. Had you not been surrounded by your new platoon, you’d have throttled him in a last-ditch effort to shake some sense into him.

Kane is a talker, waxing lyrically for extended periods during previous late-night missions about his devotion to his ‘brilliantly clever’ and ‘exceedingly beautiful’ wife. Their relationship had been going strong for just over six years, and Kane still adored her with every fiber of his being. As far as you could discern, there was no logical explanation as to why he had signed up on this mission bar his infuriating savior complex.

“Hey, where you goin’?” Kane’s exhausted tone drags you back to reality, to The Shimmer. When you look at him again, there’s a concerned furrow on his brow. “I can’t have you goin’ inward like that, Angel, talk to me.”

A wretched laugh cuts through your throat before you’re able to swallow it down, the bitterness evident when paired with your sardonic expression. It wasn’t as though Kane was in any condition to hear your nihilistic, almost psychotic thoughts. He hadn’t been himself since the faux operation back in the pool at the military base.

“It’s hard to consider yourself ‘okay’ when I just saw my friend's guts move, Kane.” Your answer is brusque, skin-crawling fear pushing you beyond the ability to discuss your mental well-being reasonably. “Something isn’t right with this place! We’re… We’re losing it!”

Again, Kane nods slowly, like you voicing the swimming sensation in his brain had made its deteriorating condition a reality. Inside the iridescent walls of The Shimmer, all matter was breaking down, disintegrating and rebuilding itself- including your minds. You couldn’t shake that feeling, that shared consciousness within the blue and white tiled walls of the military pool, like all three brains had cross-contaminated each other’s thoughts. “I know, Angel. I know.”

An unsteady silence settles between the two of you, sparking like a static charge across the short distance separating your bodies. You’re scared that if your fingers brush it will be like a metal fork in a live plug socket, wholly frying you and setting your body alight. Maybe it’s the realization that it is unlikely that you’ll make it out of The Shimmer alive, if at all, that is causing your feelings for Kane to go into hyperdrive.

The sun is low in the sky, casting a golden glow against Kane’s face as you take in his weary manner. The urge to confess your love for him is intense after so many years of swallowing the bitter pill of rejection in order to support Kane’s love for Lena. The dying light makes him look youthful, almost, with gold banding in his ebony locks that you desperately want to comb your fingers through. It isn’t often you get to see his natural curls, as Kane always opted to gel his hair back against his skull. There were still shiny locks stuck down where the mousse clung to his temples-

“D’ya hear?” Again, Kane pulls you from your trance. You blink to find yourself staring directly at him, the concerned pull of his brow clearly displaying his uncertainty around your condition. When he notes your deadpan expression, he repeats his statement with a gentle tone. “I said we can set up camp at the next building we find. You look like you need some rest.”

“Y-Yeah. Yeah, I do,” you mumble weakly, rubbing at your eye socket with the heel of your palm as you fight back the extreme fatigue. Your legs, your fucking bones are screeching to lay down, to ease the burden of the military-grade backpack and the heavy weaponry you were hauling around with you. You certainly wouldn’t say no to laying down for the night, even if sleep was far beyond your reaches now.

————————————————————————

Nightfall in The Shimmer is easily the most horrendous of your experiences on this mission. While there is no gore, no visible creatures trying to drag you out into the blackness, the stars taunt you from the night sky as you suffer the psychological trial that the setting sun brings.

You’re almost certain that the crickets within the alien forest share their mutant genetic makeup with boom boxes, their screeches throughout the night loud and persistent enough to break down what little sanity you still desperately clung to. So much so, you’re sure you can hear their chirping ricocheting off the bone walls of the inside of your skull when you block your ears with your fingers.

Kane has noted your frustration, throwing needless apologetic looks your way from his spot at the window of the suburban house you had taken shelter in for the night. He had noted the home looked oddly familiar, and yet didn’t seem to be able to put his finger on it, stating the Deja vu the building evoked was a little unsettling. Lacking personal belongings, the bare furniture appeared undisturbed, abandoned for 15 years amongst the desolate Shimmer. While the dark grey paint on the outside of the house had peeled somewhat with age, it remained relatively unscathed by the wooded wasteland. Even plants grew in the flowerbed beneath the ground floor windows, despite their obvious abnormalities, bluebell-hydrangea hybrids splashing vibrant color across the otherwise monochrome house.

“D’ya think if I shoot at them they’ll shut up?” Kane mumbles, quiet in the dark so as to not startle you from your thoughts. He sounds exhausted, his voice cracking somewhat from lack of use for a few hours.

“They might,” you nod slowly, turning your head on the wooden floor to gaze at him. You can’t help but notice your voice doesn’t sound like your own, haggard and strained. “But I doubt that will be as a result of the shots as it would be the Thing the sound attracts.”

He chuckled weakly, the sound lacking any humor and instead edging on pained. It hurts you, works its way deep between your ribs, and settles in the tissue there like a stitch that sparks up your side. Kane had never looked so unhappy, so lost. The soft glow of the moonlight bathes his face in a silver-tone as he keeps watch at the window, washing him out and making him look paler and more tired than usual. His steady, almost hypnotic gaze settled on one spot on the lawn indicates he’s focused somewhere deep in thought now, within the recesses of his brain rather than on surveillance.

It starts creeping up your throat before you’re able to stop it, that burning question that had been twisting the pit of your stomach and filling you with dread more so than the horrific creatures that had picked off the team one by one. You swallow deeply and try to suppress the words before they form in your mouth but it’s too late, the syllables spilling from your cracked lips before you can press them shut.

“Why are you here, Kane?”

A heavy silence follows your pressing question. Kane doesn’t turn, doesn’t acknowledge your query with even the twitch of a finger. You can see his face reflected on the smooth surface of the window glass, his facial expression unmoving and his gaze firmly planted on that one spot on the lawn. You begin to think he hasn’t heard you, opening your mouth again to repeat the question until Kane lightly, barely shakes his head.

“Like you. I want to help.” Kane was never a good liar. Though he could sometimes be cheeky, almost crude, his religious upbringing weighed on him like mountains tied to his ankles. His conscience painted his face with dishonesty- you’d seen it first when he said he hadn’t taken the last of your favorite snacks in the canteen back in your first year working with him, only to swiftly admit his sins when you gave him a stern look that read ‘I know’.

Scoffing with a bitterness you forgot you were capable of, you sit up from the firm wooden floor, staring at your sergeant, your colleague, your friend through the darkness. “We have spent years together, Kane. I’ve spilled blood with you. Don’t you think I know you better than that?”

Further silence, this one weighing heavier than the last. That typical guilty look, the way it creases his t-zone with frown lines, and the downturn of his lips reflect back at you in the window, his eyes now flicking back and forth across the lush grass outside as he seemingly weighs up his options.

It’s the most conflicted you’d ever witnessed Kane. Usually, he threw himself into his decisions, almost recklessly. You and the platoon back with the Green Berets often laughed about his inability to think critically unless he was in the middle of a war zone. The chaos of warfare had suited him, it’s where he thrived- but this wasn’t war, it was alien.

“Kane, I just…” You hesitate for a moment, trying to compose the panic rising like bile in your throat. “I just want to understand. Seeing you sat in that briefing room when I walked in? I can’t explain-“

The truth was it had completely devastated you. Kane, over many years of tours, sharing rations and saving each other’s lives, had worked his way into your heart covertly. By the time you realized you loved him, he was five years deep into his marriage with Lena. Regardless of how agonizing you found it, you kept the disappointment, the yearning, buried deep within you, never wanting to compromise the happy family he was building with his wife. To see him grin like that, to listen to him ramble consistently about his undying adoration for Lena almost made the torment worthwhile. It was all that mattered.

So, to see him sat at the back of the Area-X briefing room that day with an empty stare had ripped your entire world from its roots. Knowing he was aware he was going to die in here with you, when he should have been home with Lena, should have been trying for the child he so desperately wanted with her makes you want to shoot him in his stupid fucking kneecaps. You wanted better for him, needed to understand why he would give all that up if he was so happy- wanted to know why your silent suffering of watching him live out your dream with someone else had been all for nothing.

You don’t have the energy to scream at him, don’t have the strength in your arms to hit him, to force the words out of him but the silence is more harrowing than the crickets that have been chipping away at your soundness of mind. Still, he contemplates his words, lips parting as he turns to face you, his jaw pulled taut with anguish while he weighs up the cost of his admission until he appears to be unable to retain his devastation any longer.

“She’s cheating on me.”

The gentle whisper with which Kane delivers this confession contrasts so deeply from the violent emotional turmoil that crashes across his visage. The shocked silence that follows is equally as torturous for him, knuckles white from his tight grip on the gun.

It’s as though the neurons in your brain cease fire all at once, leaving nothing but silent emptiness within the chasm of your skull. The anguish that floods through your chest is freezing cold, stilling the breath in your lungs as your stunned mind tries to translate exactly what Kane has told you. Surely you’d misheard him, maybe you were struggling to understand?

The slow shake of his head and the tightness of his jaw when he catches the disbelief in your frown and downturned lips causes your attempts to rationalize your surprise to halt almost immediately. You find yourself slumping back, steadying yourself to listen without pressuring your friend to clarify more than he was willing to disclose. Casting his eyes back out across the lawn of the house, Kane takes a shuddering breath as he braces himself to divulge the rest of the story to you.

“She… Uh- She met someone at work, y’know? Someone that understands her… brainy biology stuff.” He pauses to swallow down the emotions that were threatening to spill over. “They hit it off, or whatever, while we were on our last mission.”

That small detail makes your blood run hot, boiling beneath your skin. Your last mission was Iraq, defusing IEDs and rebellions alike. The two of you had been shot at in Baghdad- fuck, they’d fucking hit you, in the back! Kane had to sling you over his broad shoulders and high tail it out of the capital city streets. It had been a miracle he’d survived, ignoring your pleas to abandon you in order to bring you back to base. To think he was sacrificing his life, spilling blood for his country, and this bitch was fucking another man when you would never do that to him!

“Anyway!” Kane continues with a sharp inhale, his eyes still settled on those lush blades of grass outside. “She carried on as though nothin’ happened. Didn’t tell me or anythin’. I only found out two days before I left so I just… Set off a day early.”

It’s like no word your lips try to form around can convey your anger, could possibly explain your grief for him, for the time you’ve lost. You press your mouth in a thin line, struggling to your tired, blistered feet. He’s turning his memories over in his head, remembering the feeling of her in his arms. To think she made love to him when he returned from Iraq in the same bed where she was fucking another man?

Crossing the wooden flooring in your bare feet causes the old beams to creak under your weight. It doesn’t startle Kane, but the sound causes him to turn and look. He gazes at you in the darkness, the light of the moon barely illuminating his face enough for you to witness his wet eyes, the tear tracks running down his face.

“Kane,” you whimper, sympathy coiling around your tone like an unwanted embrace. He recoils from it, shaking his head with a shaky breath. Military life taught the both of you an invaluable yet toxic lesson; never talk about your emotions. It was harrowing, but bottling your feelings could be the difference between life and death in most war zones.

This was not most war zones, however, and this was no life-or-death situation. Only obliteration lay beyond The Shimmer, there was no known chance of survival. Perhaps it was silly, the child-like manifestation of your fear, but when you launch yourself forward to wrap your arms around his waist in a tight hold the beat of his heart against your ear soothes you like a lullaby. Kane is stiff at first, causing you to fear having crossed a boundary beyond friendly colleagues. You’d have pulled away, but Kane’s arm winds around your back to hold you impossibly closer to his chest. His palm settles against the base of your neck, fingertips resting delicately on the curve of your skull as you hear him inhale your scent, looking past the dirt, grime and blood to get to you.

Cradling you in his arms, he sways with your body gently. The movement rocks you into a sense of security that should be impossible for a place as horrific and desolate as The Shimmer, his lips on your hairline pressing gentle kisses that warm your skin from the inside. The tip of his nose nudges into the grimey strands of your hair, and the delicate touch is enough to force tears to your eyes because for once, the crickets don’t sound so loud, and your legs don’t ache as much.

The bliss is short-lived, however, his kisses trailing off as he moves his lips to the shell of your ear. “I’m going to go to the lighthouse tomorrow, Angel. Alone.” The final destination, the epicenter of The Shimmer. The closer you got to the lighthouse, the more dangerous things got.

Waiting for the punchline, you focus on the thumping of his heart, counting between the beats like you were numbering sheep. One, two. One, two. It takes at least ten contractions until you realize there is no gag, that he is entirely serious about leaving you here to finish the mission on his own. Find the reason for the Shimmer.

“You can’t be serious, Kane-“

“I am.”

The silence that follows is charged, his fingers gentle digging into your forearms as he pulls back. You’re staring into his eyes, those stunning eyes that you’d dreamed of every night for years and god they’re looking at you with such adoration.

“You’re gonna stay here and wait for me while I take on whatever the fuck is killin’ everyone and get us the fuck out of here.” He’s speaking with such conviction, that patriotic bullshit he would always spin when he knew he was in deep shit in a mission gone south. There’s no arguing with him, no talking him down with the way his intense, fixed look held you in place. He’d strap you to a fucking chair and leave you there if he had to, all so you didn’t come to harm- fucking dumbass.

“Oh yeah? You and what army?” You speak, voice breaking slightly in the knowledge he probably wasn’t coming back, that you’d just be sat in this house going fucking mental as you waited for a dead man until the creatures, or god forbid the insanity, takes you.

“Well. It’s just us,” he points out the obvious, searching your eyes for something you can’t explain. Within seconds he’s found it, that same cheeky grin you loved him for spread across his dehydrated lips, paired with a charming wink. “But that’s never failed us so far, has it?”

Just like so many times before, he pulls laughter from your tears and you hold him even tighter as the sun begins to paint the skyline a faint orange.

____________________________________________

Golden sunshine bathes your face in a warm flush as you sit beside the flowerbed that lies outside the window in the dying light of daytime. The bluebells have surpassed a violet shade and bloomed into a stunning cobalt color, far beyond nature's capacity outside the bizarre walls of The Shimmer. Hundreds of little blue heads blossom into a sea of azure, painting the otherwise green landscape with the striking color.

Beside them, in the saturated soil, grows something substantially less beautiful. Mushrooms sprout from the ground, their grey-green caps turning outwards at the edges. They ooze a strange milky-yellow color from their gills, reminiscent of putrefied corpses. The fungi are unseemly in the gorgeous garden, alien. It’s hard to suppress the thought that flowers in your exhausted brain; the garden is not that dissimilar to The Shimmer itself, dazzlingly beautiful on the surface yet horrifically twisted beneath the facade it had intricately built.

Closing your eyes to relish in the sunshine, you try to remember how long it had been since Kane had left for the lighthouse. You’d seen the sunrise four times since he exited the house through the front door. Given the lighthouse was all of a two-hour journey, you fought the intrusive comments your brain would make about Kane having died already in the relative silence of the lawn- by this time you had grown used to the shrill trilling of the crickets.

Kane’s constant hold throughout the night before he left had made it so you’d fallen asleep against his chest, counting the thudding of his heart until you were lulled into unconsciousness by the gentle smoothing of his palm against the curve of your head. You couldn’t be sure, but you guessed he hadn’t got a wink of sleep in order to maintain watch throughout the night for you to gain some much-needed rest. Kane was selfless like that, always putting you, or anyone else for that matter, before his comfort.

The morning after he had woken you with a gentle kiss to your temple. You’d been groggy, barely able to open your eyes against the oppressive exhaustion that kept your mind swimming in the dream world that clung tightly to you.

“I’m headin’ off now,” He had whispered gently into your hairline, doing his best not to disturb your slumber.

“Kane-“

”No no, Angel. Don’t let me bother you. I’ll be back by midday at the latest.” You remember thinking how odd the whole interaction was, as though he was simply returning to a nine-to-five office job back at home, not entering a suicide mission from which he might never return.

Perhaps you should have ignored his reassurance, should have sat up and begged him to stay, clung to his shins and weighed his feet down with your body weight. It was so hard to describe, but the weariness practically swept you away, and you were slipping into senselessness before you could begin to argue with him.

Four days later you find yourself beginning to regret not having fought with him, or at least tried to convince Kane to take you with him. The room in which you had set up the sleeping bags felt cold and unsafe, even with a chair hooked under the door handle to bolt it in place. Loneliness had set in only hours after he left, your ears missing the timbre of his voice as he rambled aimlessly to fill in the blank space.

The reality was you were starting to lose grip on reality in the quiet. You’d already been clinging onto weathered threads of sanity before Kane’s departure, but the effects of the brutal environment were accelerated in your solitude. The persistent sensation of your fingertips moving had progressed, the skin of your arms irritated as though the fucking crickets were crawling beneath your flesh.

Horrifying intrusive thoughts would worm their way into your mind in the silence. Echoes of Mayer’s pained grunts as Kane sliced into his abdomen rung through your ears, the slick, wet sound of his intestines twisting in his guts causing you to gag frequently throughout the day. It was hopeless for your body to attempt to expel food, however. You hadn’t consumed any of your rations in three days.

Worst of your symptoms were the effects of sleep deprivation. Two whole days into your conscious rebellion against sleep had been celebrated with hallucinations of plants pushing their way through the skin of your wrists. Cultured by the flow of your blood flooding your veins, these green blades of grass and strands of ivy wound their way up to your forearms, decorating your skin like evergreen bangles. When you glanced away from the putrid mushrooms to examine your hands now, you discovered the natural ‘jewelry’ had subsided despite having been there only moments ago, the skin of your arms utterly bare.

Snap

It’s like tripping when coming down a set of stairs. The panic freezes your blood cells in place, a chill bursting from the crown of your head to the tips of your toes. The shock appears to still you in your position on your knees, muscles so tense with fear that you can’t force them into action. The crack of the twig had sounded from behind you, amongst the forest line.

No amount of military training could prepare your already fragile mind to twist your torso in order to investigate the source of the noise. Paranoia had taken hold, your body's flight response triggered before the logical half of your fractured brain could kick into gear.

Slowly, you lower your upper body into the grass, chest pressed to the floor in order to get as low to the ground as possible. If it was a creature, you couldn’t risk it seeing you make a break for it. You had a better chance of surviving if you took your escape slowly, steadily. Without turning your head to assess the threat, you sink your nails into the damp, cold soil beneath you before dragging yourself towards the door of the house.

It’s like the sound of the friction between you and the ground as you pull yourself to the doorstep is too loud, as though the horrifically loud crickets that had tormented you had all ceased to sound in order for the creature to hear the blades of grass snapping beneath the abrasion of your body. If that didn’t give you away, the panicked heaving of the air being sucked into your lungs certainly had.

Despite the odds, still refusing to look behind you in case the creature was so horrific it froze your terrified body in place, you manage to heave yourself to the step, raise back up onto your knees and grab ahold of the handle to the front door with shaking hands. On the count of three, you shove the heavy wooden door open, scrambling to your feet and launching yourself into the corridor and across the safety of the threshold.

Twisting on your heel, you reach with flat palms to push the door so hard it creaks on its hinges. It takes only a second for the door to slam with a bang, but the solitary moment is enough for you to take a look behind you. It’s no creature at all. Amongst the treeline is the silhouette of a man, pitch-black thanks to the poor lighting of the setting sun and standing perfectly still with its hands behind its sides. The unexpected shock is enough to send you into a frenzied terror, hurtling up the stairs faster than your feet could carry you.

There’s no use in being quiet now, your dread taking ahold of your bodily functions. The thud of your feet against each of the steps of the staircase almost reverberates throughout the wood, the banister vibrating under your palm as you clung to it desperately. The support doesn’t prevent you from tripping, missing a step and falling on your patella on the rounded edge of the wooden staircase.

Sharp pain shoots up your thigh and you clutch at your throbbing knee with tears in your eyes. Desperately self-soothing, you rub at the afflicted area with your palm to ease the discomfort enough to be able to continue your escape. The strain of the metal latch in the front door has you springing back into action when you glance over your shoulder to find the brass handle twisting downwards.

“Fuck fuck fuck-“ you ramble in distress, managing to haul yourself up the stairs and onto the landing area before the door opens. The machine gun you had brought with you stands in its place against the wardrobe in the master bedroom, your only truly devastating weapon that you could use to protect yourself against the genetically modified creatures of The Shimmer forest. Grabbing at the cold metal of the barrel that leans against the wood of the cabinet, you set it up expertly so it is ready to fire before opening the wardrobe and crawling inside with the weapon.

Shuddering breaths you expel from your lungs appear to ricochet in the wooden shell of the cupboard, your exhales barely appearing like your own as the sound enters your ears. It does little, however, to drown out the horrifying sound of the man raising himself onto the first step of the staircase.

The wood creaks throughout the silent house under his body weight with each advancing step, like some kind of creepy xylophone. Thrumming in your chest, your heart is tight against your ribcage and seizing up in fear. Your breathing is labored still, more panicked as he proceeds up the staircase and across the landing with purpose.

When he crosses the threshold of the master bedroom door, the threatening man pauses in the middle of the floor. You can see his upper body through the crack in the wardrobe, his face obscured by the poor lighting. He’s wearing a khaki cotton T-shirt that clings to his defined pectorals and a pair of camo-patterned cargo pants- military gear. Still, you find yourself afraid, having realized just days into your expedition that nothing in The Shimmer is as it seems.

Fear grips you. Desperately clinging onto the M4A1 carbine gun, you ignore the instinct to cover your mouth with your palm with the intention of smothering your heavy breathing and ultimately leaving you at risk of being caught out with your hands off your gun. Before you even have a chance to get your finger firmly on the trigger, the man goes from stock-still to springing into action, turning on his ankle suddenly and practically ripping the wardrobe doors off their hinges to get to you.

The horrified scream you let out chokes up abruptly on your lips almost as quickly as it started when you find yourself gazing back into the familiar sight of Kane’s stunning earthy irises. You always thought they looked like soil after it had rained, warm, and full of life. Immediately the terror is washed away by a flood of relief as you scramble to your knees, tears welling in your eyes as you sob out his name.

“Kane! Oh fuck, I thought I lost you!” Days of not using your voice and the intense emotions you feel make your tone croaky as you wrap your arms around his waist and hold your friend, the love of your life, to your body. Perhaps he speaks, but you don’t hear him over your loud weeping while you cling to him as though you’re afraid that releasing him means you’ll lose him for good.

You don’t feel him hold you as you cry into the fabric of his T-shirt, his hands still at his sides as you release the anxiety of the past four days in the form of a dark, damp puddle of tears into the khaki material you have buried your face into. Normally Kane would console you, whisper in your ear and tell you everything is going to be okay, but you assume he’s tired and possibly injured as you embrace him tightly.

“I was so worried about you, you were gone for so long!” You repeat with a weak smile and broken voice, your nervousness alleviating when pulling back to look him in the face again. He looks exhausted, his previously rich brown eyes hollow and off-color as they trail over your face and take in each intricate detail. There is mud smeared in his beard and blood caked in his hairline at the front of his forehead, but there appears to be no serious injury.

“Angel?” His tone is all off, lifeless and almost robotic when he questions you. You’d be lying if you said that it didn’t throw you off, the lack of emotion he presents to you, but he truly looks as though he’s going to fall to his knees in enervation, fingers flexing at his hips.

“Yes-“ You’re barely able to get the singular syllable out of your mouth before his fingers take a firm hold of your jaw, tilting your head up quickly with a bruising grip and pressing a heated kiss to your dehydrated lips. The muscles in your eyelids practically strain with the way your eyes widen in shock. It’s as though he winds you, the air in your lungs exhaled through your nose all at once at the heavy press of his mouth against your own, his arms finally moving from his sides to wind around your waist.

His hand is rough on your jaw, calloused fingertips pressing hard into the skin against the bone and bruising the curling pattern of his fingerprint into your skin. Kane kisses you like he intends to breathe you in, intense and brutal and needy. His coarse beard scratches at your face, nose pressing into your cheek as his teeth sink into your lower lip. The pain is syrupy sweet, flushing your abdomen with white-hot arousal and sparking your otherwise paralyzed body into action.

Kane had never shown any true interest in you before this moment, but his lips against yours after days of intense loneliness and a slow, agonizing fall into insanity had you pushing aside all logic and regard for his (now failing) marriage to enjoy the press of his body against yours. The terror he had set in you only moments ago appears to have heightened your arousal, cunt seizing when you feel his erection push into your thigh through the material of your cargo pants.

There’s a vicious need settling between the two of you, heady and rough. Kane’s hands are gripping at your flesh with painful grasps, his hold on your ass enough to imprint the outline of the wingspan of his palm into the skin in the form of a purple bruise. Maybe you should put up a fight, but when Kane practically tackles you to your knees on the hard-wood floor you can’t summon anything other than a broken moan of his name at the loss of his lips against your own.

Anticipation creeps up the base of your spine as you crane your neck to look Kane in the eyes. He’s deadpan while he stands over you, expression cold as he holds your gaze. Perhaps it should have been somewhat of a red flag with a neon sign that read ‘danger’ with three exclamation points, but your brain seems slow to connect the dots when you see the obscure glimmer in his irises. It reminds you of light refracting in a bubble, faint rainbows spiraling across the surface.

You would question it, the inquiry painted across your tongue as you open your mouth to ask what on earth was wrong with his eyes, but Kane throws you off guard, taking a long sweeping step behind you and out of your line of sight. The attempt to twist your head in order to look at him is fruitless, the tips of his fingers connecting with the soft flesh behind your earlobe acting as the trigger for an Error 505 code for your body - ‘The server encountered an internal error or misconfiguration’.

Trailing his touch across the length of your neck, he traces your jugular down to the apex of your collarbone before settling your throat just beneath your chin between his forefinger and thumb. Your skin erupts in goosebumps despite the oppressive heat he’s drawing from you as he pushes his prints against your pulse points. Shuddering breaths vibrate against his palm as he begins to squeeze, slowly, intimately limiting your oxygen intake.

“F-Fuck- Kane,” you whisper throatily to the wall, unable to look behind you. In your lower peripheral vision, you’re aware of his knees coming into view on either side of your waist thanks to the green of his army-issue camo print cargo pants. Realizing that he’s crouching behind you so your body is settled between his thighs, you squeeze your eyes shut when he uses his grip on your vulnerable throat to push your back against his muscular chest. It shouldn’t excite you as much as it does, but you’re throbbing between your thighs, soaking your panties with need.

Subtle burning sets into your lungs, your limited oxygen intake enough to settle raw excitement through you but not enough to cause you to panic. Kane’s free hand snakes around the waistband of your pants, roughly undoing the button that sits just above your navel and ripping down the zipper with a harsh ‘ziiip’. Gasping weakly against the hold he has on your throat, you’d offer to shimmy the pants down your hips, but Kane has other plans. He uses his hold on you to push upwards on the soft underside of your chin, ultimately lifting you onto your knees in order to rip the trousers over your hips with his brute strength. He doesn’t bother to pull them off entirely, the fabric of your waistband bunched up just above the junction of your knees.

Air floods your lungs with a sharp inhale of breath when he lets go of your neck in order to push you forward onto your chest against the floor. The sudden influx of oxygen makes your mind swim, nerves thrumming with need. Exposed to the cool room, you can feel the slick of your arousal smearing the insides of your thighs, sticking them together. You don’t have time to think about it, to get embarrassed about your obvious desperation because Kane is sweeping his fingers through the wetness and the clink of his belt buckle catches your attention.

Fuck, you’re so fucking ready. The cold softwood flooring is uncomfortable as you rest your head against it, cheekbone already sore but you don’t have it in you to complain, submitting yourself entirely to Kane’s advances as you eagerly await the sensation of his dick splitting you open. You don’t dare to help him remove your panties, keeping your palms firmly against the floor both sides of your head.

You’re thankful you do, or you’d have missed the impossibly sexy sensation of Kane’s strong hands taking hold of the waistband and ripping the fabric open with a loud tear. You flinch, a moan slipping from your throat as he works to split the fabric of the crotch too, his knuckles brushing across your slick pussy lips as he does.

“Oh fuck, Kane please-“

“Open.” The one-word order causes your stomach to flip, your pussy to clench around nothing. His tone is bordering on authoritative, like the clipped intonation he’d use for soldiers lower down the rank than him back at base. You’re vaguely aware of him crowding your space as he crouches over you, fingers winding into your hair at the base of your skull for leverage as he yanks your head back towards him.

Instinctively, your mouth falls open with a sound mixed somewhere between a yelp of pain and a whine of pleasure. Kane doesn’t waste his time, pushing the damp fabric of your cotton panties against your tongue. His fingers work the material inside your mouth, effectively gagging you. The heady taste of your arousal floods your tongue, and you can’t help the way your eyes roll back at your own taste. You’d never imagined Kane to be this crude, but you fucking love it.

Pushing your hand beside your face out of the way, Kane plants his own palm in its place for balance. The face of the electronic watch he wears on his wrist is pointed towards you. The screen is distorted, no longer able to tell the time or the date. It’s a quick reminder of where you are, the threat you face and the fact that Kane is just going to fuck you here anyway because he wants to… Who were you to deny him?

You’re ripped from your thoughts when you feel Kane notch the head of his cock up against your opening, sweeping through the dripping wet folds of your pussy to push up at just the right angle. He’s taken ahold of your hips, pulling your lower body up by making you balance on your knees and forcing your back into a perfect arch for him.

“Mpfh-“ you struggle against the fabric in your mouth in an attempt to moan Kane’s name, the following squeal that he draws from you as he sinks into you high pitched and needy. The intrusion is incredible, stretching you out on the width of his cock as he pushes into you quickly. He doesn’t ease into you, opting instead to force his way into you and causing you to push your hips back, flush against his own until he’s suddenly bottoming out and pressing up against your cervix.

Kane’s other hand settles against your vertebrae between your shoulder blades, pinning your upper body to the floor to make the arch in your back almost painful- but fuck if it isn’t blissful. He’s pulling out of your sopping cunt with an obscene wet sound, before setting an immediate brutal pace, fucking into you hard and sharp and savage.

Even in your rooted position thanks to the force with which he holds you down, Kane’s ferocious snap of his hips has your body jolting against the floor, splinters from the wood digging into the exposed skin of your lower abdomen. The biting pain somehow adds to the devastating arousal that rocks through you when he manages to find your g-spot with little difficulty, ramming up against it with each thrust. You want to scream his name, to curse him out for making you feel so much so fast but you can only manage a muffled wail of ecstasy.

The brutality of his thrusts appears to pick up with each push into your heat, the sound of his balls slapping against you echoing in the empty room. The pleasure is overwhelming, flooding through you with each notch against that obliterating spot inside of you that has your toes curling in your combat boots. Your fingers wind around the wrist beside your face, digging your nails into the flesh of his forearm as he draws moan after moan from your throat despite the makeshift gag that muffled your noises.

Jaw falling open as he sets to spear your g-spot wickedly with each merciless clap of his hips against yours, the gag comes loose. You’re sobbing, tears streaming down your cheeks as you work your tongue to push the damp panties from your mouth with a desperate need to tell Kane just how fucking good he’s working your cunt-

All you can manage is a pitiful, salacious whine as Kane breaches the tight ring of muscles between your ass cheeks with little warning or delicacy. He’s clearly coated his finger with his spit, your cum, or something because the slick digit slips inside you down to his knuckle, filling you up more than you ever thought possible as you babble his name over and over with a new level of pleasure-laced anguish.

Twitching inside your cunt, his dick continues to pound into you as he pushes his finger in and out of you, refusing to allow you to adjust to being penetrated in two places all at once. You’re clamping down on his cock, on his finger, body chasing after the high you had waited years to obtain from him. It’s building your orgasm quicker than you realize, faster than you can stave off.

Kane still hasn’t spoken despite your pathetic calls of his name, the only sound you can pick up over the sound of his cock devastating your cunt is his heavy breaths as he exerts himself for your pleasure. Your nails are sinking into the creases of the floorboards, your throat ragged and broken as you cry out against the surge of your orgasm.

Kane’s hand gives way beside your head to balance on his elbow against the floor. It brings his chest closer to your back, angling your hips up sharply as he pounds into you at a new, obliterating angle. Leaning on his elbow allows him to stretch his palm across your throat once more, squeezing your windpipe harder than last time and obstructing your airway. You’re so breathless that it only takes a handful of seconds and a few punishing thrusts of his cock into you for your vision to begin fading black around the edges.

You claw at his wrist, the sounds of your sobs catching in your squished throat, but you’re not telling him to stop- you’re desperately trying to cling onto him as your orgasm rears up suddenly.

“One… Two…” Kane begins to count his thrusts, the intense pace suddenly slowing down to singular, brutal snaps of his hips. Despite his breathlessness, there’s a firm certainty in his flat voice. You feel the slow drag of him pulling out of you before plunging back in with a force so hard that your knees scrape against the flooring.

“Six… Seven…” The blunt tip of his cock punches your cervix and your abused g-spot along with it, your lack of oxygen making your head feel like it’s going to burst. The veins in the back of your hands are protruding, blue and raised as your body fights the deficiency.

“… Ten.” He lets you go and the sudden, needy intake of breath causes a flood of intense tingling over your body. Your spasming cunt tightens around the girth of his cock, gripping him right as the spark bursts through you with devastating impact. You’re convulsing in bliss, flooding his pulsing dick and his curling index finger as your jaw drops open with a cry of his name. It’s blazing hot, your clit throbbing at the intensity of the orgasm without having even been touched.

You’re certain your nails have scratched the wrist of the hand around your throat raw, blood smearing underneath your fingertips from where you have broken the skins as he continues to brutalize your cunt. Thighs shuddering beneath you, it’s like you’re unable to force the muscles there to work and you find your hips slumping forward without his support.

Kane is quick to slip his finger from your tight ring of muscles to grab your hips with his newly freed hand, sitting up and away from your back to allow him to hold them in place just long enough for him to settle his cock deep within your fluttering pussy and cum inside of you with the only low groan you hear from his mouth.

It’s like he’s filling you forever, flooding you with his warm cum until it’s dripping out of you, running down the back of your thighs. Your eyes roll back, a blissful whine working its way from you as he slowwwly fucks the leaking cum back into your aching cunt as deep as he can get it. He’s sensitive, hissing softly as he finally eases his dick from you, eyes settled on the way your walls clench around nothing- as though they miss him already.

When he brushes up the escaped cum coating the insides of your thighs with his fingers and pushes even those remnants of him back inside to ensure not one drop is wasted, you have to quietly beg him to stop in a croaky voice, so overstimulated that you can barely see straight with the way your eyes seem to cross. “Ka-Kane, oh fuck… Please-“

Pulses of your afterglow ripple through your bones as he finally steps away from you, out of your line of vision, and you allow yourself to close your eyes to revel in the exhausted bliss he leaves you in. It’s like you’re hyper-aware of your body from the crown of your head to the tips of your toes, lips parted as you pant through your open mouth to ease your burning lungs.

“Rest.” Another one-word order. It’s not as though you can argue with Kane, truly consumed with weariness after having skipped four nights of sleep and having been fucked into oblivion by the love of your life. It certainly wasn’t how you’d expected your coupling to go- if at all- but you can’t help the warmth that spreads through you knowing he had initiated it. That he liked you too.

Sleep grips you with that thought, the relief of knowing you weren’t alone in your yearning enough to finally ease your unsettled mind into the gentle oblivion of rest.

____________________________________________

Stark white walls of the quarantine zone inside Area-X make the fluorescent lights that hang above your head ever more blinding. You wince slightly, struggling to stare back at the man, the Thing, sitting on a gurney bed before you despite your eyelashes trying to block out the intense lighting.

Much like the initial days following your entry into The Simmer, the journey back to the outside world, back to a world without shark-alligator hybrids or bizarre corpse-like mushrooms, was a bit of a mystery to you. There was no recollection, not even foggy memories of how you had managed to find your way back, or the trials you had faced in order to return from the unsurvivable Shimmer.

Scientists and military officials were the first things you had seen when you came to, flitting around you and forcing you into an unprompted inquisition. Despite doing your best to answer their multi-layered queries, it was hard to recall memories and recount the horrific days you survived given the semi-automatic machine guns trained on your temples.

It wasn’t as though you blamed them. You and Kane were the first to survive the inhospitable land beyond the iridescent walls, they had every right to be afraid of you. When they deduced you weren’t a threat, they worked to inform you that you had been beyond the threshold for over fourteen months and that they had given up any hope that any member of the last expedition would return alive. Despite your insistence that you were only gone a week, the digital devices they had shown you clearly stated that a year had passed, and you couldn’t find it in yourself to argue much more than that.

In your quarantine room, you had spent many nights on your back on the mattress of your own gurney bed after the scientists had run multiple tests and experiments, staring up at the ceiling and recalling parts of your journey. Mayer’s moving guts, creatures beyond all reasonable explanations of science, Kane’s reason for joining the mission, the frenzied coupling after his return from the lighthouse… And his coruscating eyes as he pushed his cum back inside of you before you slept.

A ghastly realization that had taken over your bruised and battered body in the silence of your sterilized room was the reason you stood before Kane in your hospital nightgown now, the room encased by plastic walls not that dissimilar to those you had awoken to upon your arrival back to Area-X.

He’s gazing at you with those same glittering eyes, rainbow refractions sparkling through his irises as his expression remains perfectly still. Unlike you, whose body is covered in multiple contusions and blossoming bruises, Kane appears untouched- almost perfect. Not a hair is out of place, and the split in his hairline that had been there the night he returned to you had disappeared. He looks almost waxy, like a marble figure at a museum.

“You’re not Kane,” you manage with a shaky voice, nausea settling deep in the pits of your stomach and threatening to overcome you. The epiphany had taken root in you a few hours ago, having overheard the team of scientists discussing the planning for an ultrasound. All it had taken was a few recollections of the night he had taken you and comparisons of his personality before and after he’d left for the lighthouse for you to resign to the truth.

‘Kane’ hesitates for a moment, those shimmering eyes passing slowly over your body. His gaze is almost ice-cold, and his answer feels as though someone dumps freezing water over your abused body. “I don’t think so…”

Silence follows his- the Things admittance. Devastation rips through you at the knowledge that whatever it is has probably killed your Kane, has destroyed him, and taken his place in life- a carbon copy. You’re not sure how you figured it out, call it divine intuition and a bit of luck, but whatever it was planned to populate the world with its offspring - explaining its desperation to ensure you were full following the coupling, using your love for Kane to obtain exactly what it wanted- a surrogate. You push aside the new wave of nausea that washes over you, swallowing the bile that rises in your throat and glancing down at your hands.

Those tiny whirlpools on your fingertips continue to spin slowly.

“He loved you, you know.” It says with a level of conviction that has you almost believing it in your desperate, vulnerable condition, fear and grief blurring the lines in your mind and once again overlooking the ‘danger, red flag’ neon lights in your brain in order to find some level of comfort in the creature's words.

“You know that?” You croak.

“I can feel it.“ The creature watches as you put two and two together. It hasn’t just copied him, the thing has absorbed him. Has obtained not only his appearance but his memories- a mixture of part of Kane’s genetics and consciousness.

The terror and disgust that the Thing had sparked in you subsided slightly with this understanding, replacing your fear with a feeling of numbness. Your Kane, the sweet, funny, loveable Kane that prayed with you on military expeditions and held you when you were sad was gone, obliterated by The Shimmer. You had left with a shell of your Kane, filled instead with something far beyond your comprehension.

Perhaps it was the emotional distress, the irreversible damage your sanity had sustained inside the opalescent walls that had followed you beyond them, but you find yourself unable to alert the soldiers beyond the door to the existential threat that sat before you, looking up at you with Kane’s gorgeous eyes.

It looked like Kane, held you like Kane, and even smelt like him. As you work your way into the creature’s lap, encased by its arms, you note that it may not be the Kane you knew, instead your Kane was a part of it, and that you loved Kane enough to settle for even a slither of the man he used to be, in the shell of an extraterrestrial being that had the ability to annihilate humanity. You had waited for many years to have Kane to yourself, waited your turn for many years to call him yours. Now you could, even if it was only part of him.

“It’s okay Angel.” It speaks softly against the shell of your ear, in Kane’s warm voice, “It’s just us now. But that’s never failed us before, has it?”

END

Authors note: this was a really fun fic to write. Though I know it won’t gain much traction, I believe it is so important to write what you want and focus on different themes in an attempt to grow as a writer. I hope you enjoyed, and look after yourself if you have faced any themes inside this piece that are uncomfortable for you.

🏷 TagList: @polaroidpetal @foxilayde @mylifeisactuallyamess @bookfrog242 @wh0reforbucknasty @crystalchrysalis19 @zakizigekwe @ahookedheroespureheart @buckys-other-punk @anxious-sappho @youngr0se95 @alexloveskili @captainrexstan @astroboots @knights-power @southcrnbelle @niallsbunny @wakers-bonkers @ofmortems @hold-our-destiny @xcatnapsx @vermillionwinter @stormkobra-5 @bb-skyrunner @silvery-luna @sebsbelova @erenbissexual @alwritey-aphrodite @maggotzombie @deadpige0n @bakerstreethound @whatthehekko @moonnaught @xwing-baby

Striked tags don’t work!

[samsgff]

*Using the events of s5 with a little bit of alternations*

⚠️ tw for suicide nd alcoholism ⚠️

Once Sam jumped into the hole dean felt like he was stabbed right through the heart.

Days, weeks, months had gone by and Dean was still grieving. See everyone has their own way of grieving Dean's way was to rot at Bobby's house, he did not move an inch from his bed, he let himself drown completely in his sorrow. Bobby tried his best to convince him to go on hunting trips with him and constantly told him it'll help, but dean's only reply was "I'm done".

Day after day, the bottles of boose kept increasing, but drinking was his only escape. It was his way to numb the pain, it was his way to fill in the void inside of him that kept growing ever since the incident. It was his way to be at peace, it allowed him to sleep without rewatching his brother jump to his death. However some coping mechanisms lose their purpose at some point. The alcohol was not doing it for the now only child winchester, even so he tried to keep on going but what was left for him to hang on to if the only person he ever cared for was gone? And so one night, when Bobby was out, Dean went looking for some pills and since he knew Bobby more than his own father he knew exactly where he kept them so it didn't take much time for him to find those colorful tablets. He wrote a farewell letter to his adoptive father his one and only father, thanking him for taking him and his younger brother under his wing and apologized for being such a pain in the ass for the past few years. Dean knew the right dose, he always has. As he swallowed those pills down with whiskey he could feel the inside of his stomach already lightning up in flames, but he didn't care, he wanted it to end, he wanted to be where he belonged, in hell, next to his sammy.

Few minutes later, everything went silent, his body was completely numb, his eyes rolled to the back of his head.

The old man arrived at his house, he opened the door, it was quiet way too quiet. He placed his keys on the coffee table and called out: "Dean?" his eyes caught the letter, he opened it with shaky hands, that can't be, Dean wouldn't do that he tried gaslighting himself. He dropped the letter and ran as fast he could breaking down the door and holding Dean's unconscious body between his arms. "No Dean wake up" He yelled. "Wake up now boy" he yelled again as his eyes filled up with tears. "Dean don't do that to me" he mumbled while holding his body closer to him. "Castiel!!" he screamed. "Get down here cas now!" he screamed again hoping the angel would answer his prayers. And he did. "what happened?" he asked confused. "Fix him now or i swear" Bobby threatened. Cas placed his hand over Dean's forehead and it only took a few seconds before he opened his eyes again.

He adjusted himself, looked at his hands all confused.

"No no noo" he screamed in anger.

"WHY DID YOU BRING ME BACK?" he looked at the angel and his adoptive father with eyes full of tears.

"i was ready to go i was ready to die" he yelled.

"Well too bad because i wasn't" Bobby snapped

"the only person who brought a purpose to my life is gone. The only person i ever loved and cared for and looked after is gone. And there's a hole inside of that just keeps on growing and growing everyday and it- it hurts it hurts so much i thought- i thought i could numb the pain but it's crushing me it's sucking the life out of me i can't i just can't" he cried out.

Bobby and Cas stood above him, with sadness and despair in their eyes.

"i think i could help" Cas mumbled

Dean looked up to him with the tiniest bit of hope.

"i could erase every memory you ever had with sam it would be like he was never your brother- like he never existed" he continued while avoiding eye contact.

"no i can't allow that" bobby added

"this is my decision bobby" dean replied firmly.

"do it cas" he said as he stood up and faced him.

"but this is going to hurt" castiel warned him before proceeding.

"i said do it" he repeated.

The angel placed the palm of his hand over the hunters forehead and channeled every power he had, it didn't take long before dean fell to his knees screaming as all of the memories with his younger brother flashed before his eyes. Bobby looked away since he couldn't handle seeing his son in that condition.

Once it was over dean fell to the ground unconscious.

"his body is going to need a little of time to readjust" cas told Bobby in a reassuring tone.

"i hope you realize the consequences of what you just did" the adoptive father added before leaving the room and slamming the door behind him.

[idkwidatp]

⚠️Tw for talking about suicide bating⚠️

Nobody on the planet not even Bakudeku shippers heard bakugo Tell deku to kill himself and went "OmG thaT was sOoooOoo roMaNtic!!!" Please stop using that as an excuse as to why you hate Bakudeku. I'm not saying that you have to ship Bakudeku I'm saying that I'm tired of hearing people use that as an excuse cuz nobody thought that.

[huaenrose]

⚠️ TW: suicide attempt, blood.

For a long time, Xie Lian thought he was the one who even death had rejected, but now he knows: he’s, in truth, the one for whom even death was rejected.

[xr0tt3nxfl3shx]

👁💊My Medicine is underdeveloped and my Amygdala won't work.💉👁

Twomp[AU] fanfiction + art !! Pertains to the events in this post. [No beta we die.]

⚠️‼️TW: VOMITING / OVERDOSE / SUICIDAL IDEATION / UNREALITY / CORRUPT MENTAL HEALTH SYSTEM / GENERAL MENTAL ILLNESS THEMES‼️⚠️

A/N: i didnt wanna mention it tbh but just in case, ive been down the chemical consumption road 3 times, an i mention because i know the internet has opinions on mental illness in writing. But ive been there myself. All up close and personal like. so i think i can speak on it (dont castrate me)

POV: 👁Argos👁

I scratch at my skin in the dark of my room as if that'll hold in the tears from spilling over my burning red cheeks. The feeling of rage and overwhelming depression clash within me, and leave me to switch every few minutes between cursing the name of every therapist who ever told me that "I'm not even trying to get better" and crying over the idea that they might be right.

My heartbeat is so vigorous that it feels like at any moment the tendons will tear away and my heart will burst in my ribs. How could anyone say that to me? I seethe and hiss through my gritting teeth. Why can't I get better? I cry enough to fill an ocean and nearly drown in my tears.

I should be able to control all of this by now, I'm not a child. Yet, I can't stop thinking about putting the heads of those who hurt me on a platter. Or banging my head on my bedroom wall hard enough to dull the heartbreak. My eyes are running dry from all the tears, I've been at this for a while. My head is pounding from the adrenaline. All reasonable thoughts are drowned out, with intrusive and irrational ones taking the place of my internal voice of reason.

I can make it better, I can make this better. I just need to try a little harder! Just.. go a little further. These feelings, it's just a chemical imbalance right?

I'm running out of options, types of therapy, pills, at this point I might as well just get a lobotomy. I'm sure my therapist would like that.

There's still time to make this right. I don't have to end my life to end my suffering right?

I can prove them wrong. I will prove them wrong. It's just a chemical imbalance. I just need to fix it.

I rummage through the medicine cabinet above my bathroom sink, overlooking the blood crusting around the drain. There has to be something in here that can make my head stop pounding or my thoughts quiet down if not for just a little while. Maybe everything all at once? Yeah that should do!

Laid out in front of me on the cold tiled floor of my bathroom are various pill bottles. The amount of pills actually in them is varied, they like to switch my meds every other week it seems. I try to be hasty with this, pouring out a small handful of gel capsules into my hand. Each one smooth, glossy, and slightly cool to the touch.

You know, I've been here before, and typically there's some survival instinct in me, paralyzing my hands before I can do any damage. But all I can feel is anguish. And anger. And there's no more room for self preservation in me.

I take my first dose before I can come down from my emotion fueled adrenaline rush. Quickly now don't let the self preservation come back. I take my next dose of a new pill type, a tablet. It was a bad idea doing this dry but oh well!

Before I know it I'm slumped against my bathroom door, unable to continue my self medication on account of the mounds of pills I dry swallowed having begun triggering my gag reflex. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't anxious about this, but it had to be done. My therapist is always urging me to take steps in the right direction!

(Though admittedly he never mentioned which direction is the right one.)

I make it back to my bed, dragging my feet and leaning on the wall for support the whole way. It's not even five minutes in when I start to feel the effects. I probably should've eaten before taking my pills like the instructions say.

This is different though, I feel my connection to reality slip right through my jittery fingers. Like the shadows in my room are divulging their presence. Like they are reaching out their hands, ready to take hold of me, pull me in and make me one with unreality. An emptiness overcomes me, something I've truly never felt before. And it's the strangest thing, because simultaneously I've never felt more alive in my life.

Everything is really funny, I've never noticed how funny everything is up until now. Every little unorganized thought that pops up in my foggy, spacing-out head manages to get a strained laugh out of me.

Visual snow floods my peripheral, the colors of the world begin to become one with the static in my eyes.

Ah, I remembered what I was going to do in here. I need to call Mr. Plant. I need him to know that I'm going to get better, and how much I love him of course. Oh he'll never understand just how much I love him! I love him to death, haha! Literally.

I dial in the number. Moving has proven difficult, like trying to control a vehicle while tired and out of it, or in my case trying to control a vehicle through the most debilitating brain fog I've ever experienced. The disconnection from body and thought is almost calming.

The ringing of the phone is such a funny thing as well. I could lose myself in the methodical rhythm and loose vibrations running up my hands- oh look here he's answered!

"M‐r… plant! I ha-ve.. s o me thi.. ng to tell you."

I am fighting to get the words out. The weak sounds I manage to get out of my raspy throat come out in uneven tones with jarring stutters. Why is it so hard to speak?

"I took.. a lot o-f... my me-ds. Ha-ha!" He hangs up immediately.

Is he not happy for me? It wasn't long before I heard sirens closing in. Did he call the cops on me? That's no fair, no fair at all.

I've never been rolled into the back of an ambulance on a stretcher before but there's a first time for everything I suppose. It's too bad I'm too out of it to really experience it.

In the ambulance is when the first wave of nausea hits. I could barely even feel the EMT insert the IV or hear when they asked me questions.

———

The heart palpitations do their diligence distracting from the perforations left in my arm from the injections of various medications and the IV drip.

My respiration is just as irregular as my heart's chemical damaged rhythm. I feel like I'm drowning in this heavy air and it feels like the knots in my stomach have spread to my heart. This pain is so unbearable that I feel the need to crave it out of myself with a blade.

The world is doubling- no tripling, blurring, and mushing together all at once. I can feel the hum of the fluorescent hospital light buzz through my head. The scent of rubbing alcohol and sterilized equipment is evident throughout the cold medical facility.

By my own hands I've made my body a place unsuitable for living. I've "almost drugged myself to an early grave" as the hospital staff keep reminding me.

Speaking of body, I can no longer tell where I end and the wires of the EKG machine begin. Neuropathy has set in and nerve sensation has dulled for the most part, except in my stomach and heart where it hurts the most of course. But me and the machines they have me hooked up to might as well be one as long as they are taking the place of my dysfunctional body systems.

When they run the EKG scan, which they do about every half hour, they ask me to stay as still as I can, but it's hard to control the shaking when I don't know where it comes from in the first place. I'm by no means cold, or if I am I really can't feel it.

Have I mentioned the shaking? The tremors? I need to grow accustomed to the flavor of raw stomach acid soon, because that's all I've been throwing up anymore. It's all that's left.

The nausea begins to build all over again, like my stomach is writhing and contorting in my torso. I can feel the knots being tied. Over the next few minutes it builds and builds, I'd do anything to stop the encroaching bile now. The nausea completely overwhelms my senses right before another round of the most violent retching I've ever experienced. Accompanied by the most awful squelching and splattering sounds as it hits the rest of vomit already resting at the bottom of the bag.

I feel like I'm nearing being turned inside out everytime it happens. And I've filled yet another vomit bag. This isn't going to stop for days as the doctor told me. I doubt I'll get the luxury of unconsciousness.

The activated charcoal they gave me to drink is like this black sludge, "slow and steady now, don't drink so fast you throw it all up but not so slow that you succumb to the consequences of your own actions." Well maybe that's not what they really said but it's how it felt. I can tell the staff are judging me, I just know it! They think I deserve this.

At least the charcoal is cherry flavored.

My many eyes dart around the clean and pristine hospital room erratically, glancing off in every direction. I don't want anyone to look at me anymore. I can't stand the buzz of the lights and I can barely bring myself to move enough to blink. Or even move enough to breathe. I am much too dizzy and light-headed to even consider standing up. I'm so dizzy I could swear I'm phasing in and out of my body. The only thing keeping my consciousness bound to this body is the unending pain ancoring me in the reality of my situation.

It's growing increasingly unbearable.

Above all else I am losing my mind trying to figure out where I went wrong tonight. These chemicals were supposed to fix all these feelings. The pills were supposed to fix me. My psychiatrists and therapists all told me that I'm sick, disordered, and all I needed was to buy a few more medicines.

It must be my fault, it must be if hundreds of milligrams of mood stabilizers can't just make it better.

Tell me, anyone tell me, why I'm so useless that I can't even help myself?

Why am I so worthless that my medicine won't work on me?

I am almost entirely suspended in unreality. The prozac, olanzapine, mirtazapine, and everything other useless drug they gave me were meant to cure me. I've tried everything!

I've done the very most I can to try and make the bad thoughts quiet down. And are the thoughts that tell me "I'd be better dead", my own thoughts, or a symptom of one of my diagnoses?

Is the reason I'm like this the same reason I don't deserve love, or do I not deserve love because I'm like this? I want to get better. I swear I really do.

So why does no one believe me?

"Sir, you have a visitor." The nurse informs me in a harsh yet hush tone.

The words barely make it through my chemical head. I'm practically catatonic in this hospital bed. But when I do process them I pray to every divine that it is who I think it is.

Red petals on the top and bottom, two yellow petals, one pink and one blue. I was right!

I can't believe he came all the way down to this void to come see me. I really thought he'd stay home. I don't think anyone or anything could possibly understand the pure desperation I feel coursing through my veins. Right alongside the saline they're using to flush my IV of course.

My boyfriend entered my hospital room, #34 I believe, I saw when they rolled me in on the stretcher. Tears well up in my dried eyes, I couldn't feel enough of anything to cry while drugged out of my head but seeing him, well, I need him more than I have ever needed anyone before.

The look on his face when he saw me is one I didn't know he was capable of, pure horror even. I must look horrible stained with my own bile in these itchy hospital scrubs. He is quick to clasp my hand in his and rub along my knuckles and the back of my palm. Through the blurred vision and tears I can't even make him out anymore but I don't need to, I just need his touch. I need it so badly.

I have no depth perception at the moment, or hand eye coordination, and again everything is quite blurry so it was mostly unintentional when I pulled him in by the sweater. He leans into me and wraps his arms under my upper back, holding me against his chest.

He's warm against me, holding me gently in a hospital bed. I can't feel much at all other than the pain, his warmth was the only other sensation I could pin down in my head. It was such a harsh contrast from how I normally see him acting.

With him so close I can't tell where he ends and I begin this time. Even in one of my most painful moments, I feel a familiar comfort in my palpitating heart. He's the only thing keeping me from going entirely mad. He has no idea what I'd give to melt into him right here right now, become an amalgamated abomination of our half hazardly bonded flesh and bone. I'm afraid I'd ruin him and all his perfection with me and all my misshapen and grotesqueness.

I am especially disgusting as of now, making him worry about me like this. Can I not be horrible for just one second? Selfish, that's it. I must be selfish. I take another go at speaking a moment after we pull away. All I can muster is an apology that comes out more like a pathetic stammer through my tears.

The way his cold gaze met mine shook me. I've never seen real tears stream down his face. He looks so... distraught. Its like he's looking right through me and simultaneously looking directly at me. And on top of everything I've never seen him sign so frantically. He rarely signs at all.

"Please don't be sorry."

…

"Don't strain your voice."

"Just stay right there, okay? Do you need anything?"

"I'll get you anything, I'd do anything for you."

I knew he cared about me, but I guess I never realized just how much. Or maybe I just forgot. How horrible am I?

Is it possible I'm actually worth something to him? Worth enough for him to call me an ambulance, worth enough for him to comfort me in the hospital bed, worth enough for him to cry over me?

Was I really worth staying with all this time?

My thoughts are interrupted by another round of retching, it seems those knots in my stomach weren't just anxiety. Mr. Plant holds my hand through it. I'm gonna be here a while, I know that. But he's here with me, and from the looks of it he isn't leaving my side anytime soon.

I'll make it out alive, not for myself, just for him. And for the possibility that maybe he needs me just as much as I need him. I wish my mind wasn't so scrambled, so I could find the words to express just how much I love him.

I love you Mr. Plant.

[simply-whump]

The Heavenly Idol (성스러운 아이돌) - Whump List

Whumpee : Rembrary / Woo Yeon Woo played by Kim Min Gue

Synopsis : Pontifex Rembrary is widely regarded as having the most powerful divine power ever. While he fights against a devil, he gets transferred to a different world. He then finds himself in a small dormitory and possesses the body of Woo Yeon Woo, who is a member of the unpopular idol group Wild Animal. (MDL)

Genres : Comedy, Romance, Fantasy

⚠️TW⚠️ There are talks about suicide in multiple episodes

Warning ! Possible spoilers below!

Rembrary / Woo Yeon Woo

Ep 1 : Chased, hit by some magic, falls down his horse, attacked, protecting himself with magic, struggling, thrown to the ground, shoulder injured, healed with magic, using magic, stumbling, head spinning, headache — Transported from his fantasy world to our world, screaming, really confused, a bit manhandled — Brought to the hospital — Cuts his palm, heals himself

Ep 2 : Tries to use his powers, gasping in pain, passes out — Looks really tired — Uses too much power, sweating, collapses, passes out, found unconscious, concern for him, wakes up briefly before passing out again (Gif Set)

Ep 3 : Unconscious, concern for him, slapped, heavy lidded eyes, speaking weakly — Coughing — Feeling dizzy

Ep 4 : None

Ep 5 : Using a lot of power, struggling — Knife at his throat, restrained 

Ep 6 : Bag on his head, restrained — Restrained, taken by the police — Handcuffed in an interrogation room — Attacked with a knife, thrown against a wall, stopping the blade with his bare hand, bleeding, struggling, running away, stabbed in the shoulder, crying out in pain, collapses, passes out (Gif Set) — Wakes up on a stretcher, concern for him, heavy-lidded eyes, speaking weakly — At the hospital, bloody, refusing treatment, wincing in pain, hand treated, wincing in pain, concern for him (Gif Set) — Walking with an IV drip, hand and shoulder bandaged, talking bout sad memories — Helped to walk, bumps his shoulder against some furniture, wincing in pain, concern for him

Ep 7 : Under the influence of a spell, has to do everything someone tells him to do, forced to drink, drunk, told to drive a car and to crash, slammed against a car, collapses on the ground, concern for him, (Gif Set), freed from the spell

Ep 8 : Worried for someone, attacked, protecting himself with a magical shield, stabbed in the leg, bleeding, (Gif Set), healing himself

Ep 9 : Falls down some stairs (comedic) — Can’t use his powers, shocked, desperate, blaming himself, teary-eyed — Told to go kill himself if he wants to save everyone, pushed against a wall, angry, has a panic attack, can’t breath, collapses, passes out (Gif Set)

Ep 10 : Wakes up in bed, vision blurry, looking exhausted, depressed, wishes to kill himself to save everyone, worried — Falsely accused of all sorts of horrible things — Covered in flour and eggs — (Flashback) Found unconscious — (Present) Has a panic attack, breathless, holding his chest, half-collapses, heavy breathing, looking exhausted (Gif Set) — Surrounded by paparazzi, has another panic attack, has trouble breathing, saved, saying hurtful things to his loved one — Depressed — Has a third panic attack, has trouble breathing, blaming himself — Manhandled, using his powers, collapses unconscious, concern for him (Gif Set) — Wakes up in bed, heavy-lidded eyes

Ep 11 : Restrained, put to his knees, attacked — Attacked, thrown to the ground, stabbed in the shoulder, falls down the stairs, unconscious, bleeding from the head, (Gif Set), wakes up back in his fantasy world, chained, sword pointed at him (Gif Set) — Back in our world his body is found unconscious, concern for him, hospitalized, oxygen mask, waking up, heavy lidded eyes — Told he has to die for the people to be saved, magic used on him, in pain, collapses to the ground, told to kill himself, feeling betrayed, angry, collapses on his knees, devastated, crying, screaming, sobbing, comforted (Gif Set)

Ep 12 : Thrown to the ground — Hit with a wooden pole, restrained, taken away — Bag on his head, teary-eyed, magic used on him, in pain, his powers are being taken from him, gasping in pain, passes out — Stabbed, collapses, passes out

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