#(i really do and this is such a big unreadable mess but alas)

[0vergrowngraveyard]

It was another quiet and still night in Green Hill.

Sonic was sitting on his bed in Tails’ lab, leaned up against the wall of his room. He didn’t use his bed very often, he always preferred the couch since it was easy to just plop down on and pass out, but he’d been using it a lot recently.

He wasn’t sure why he suddenly wanted to use the usually forgotten room. It's not like what piece of furniture he decided to lay on really mattered, he rarely slept either way.

Ever since he returned from the Shatterspace, everything just felt…different.

It wasn’t a good or bad thing, it was just different.

He was different.

And it’s not like he was very discreet about it, his friends definitely noticed. They just never said anything about it.

Well…that wasn’t entirely true. There was one person who occasionally hinted at his concern, but was never direct about it.

He knew the hedgehog too well to do that.

He looked down at the back of one of his gloved hands. For a split second, his white gloves turn grayish with white lines forming a grid, a familiar piece of technology at the center of his hand.

He blinked and it was gone.

Sonic sighed, putting his hand being his head, his other resting on his stomach, as he closed his eyes.

“Sonic?”

His ears perked up at the sound of his name. A small, fond smile forced its way onto the hedgehog’s muzzle as he opened his eyes halfway, his emerald green eyes meeting the baby blues that belonged to his little brother.

“Shouldn’t you be in bed, kiddo?”

Tails’ expression went from unreadable to annoyed in record time, an all too familiar glare forming a knot in Sonic’s stomach. A small pout formed on the kit’s lips as he averted his gaze downwards.

“And before you go and call me a hypocrite,” He moved the hand that was situated on his stomach, bringing it to about shoulder height and pointing down. “I am in bed.”

“You know that’s not what you mean by that.“ Tails groaned, rubbing his gloveless paw down his face. “And I was but I…I just…nevermind.”

Eyes slightly wider, Sonic took another look over his brothers’ appearance. He wasn’t wearing any shoes, gloves, or even socks, all four brown paws visible, and his fur was slightly ruffled. He always wore at least socks and gloves in his workshop and if the fuss he made anytime Sonic messed with him was anything to go by, he hated his fur being unnecessarily messy.

The kid was right, he had been in bed.

He noticed Tails starting to turn to leave and he sat up a little straighter as he swallowed past the lump forming in his throat.

He really didn’t want him to go.

“D’you have a nightmare?” Sonic asked him, desperately hoping that his voice sounded normal enough but alas, the kid could read him like an open book. The look he gave him definitely suggested that his voice wavered a bit.

Tails fidgeted with the tip of one of his namesakes and glanced back at the floor. “N-no, I just…it’s stupid, I’m sorry.”

Sonic begged to differ, Tails never came looking for him when he was upset anymore — even during thunderstorms, he’d argue that he was too old to look for comfort in his big brother and that he should be able to handle it himself — so the fact that the kit was standing in his doorway looking upset meant something was wrong.

And Sonic had a pretty good idea as to what it was.

“I can guarantee you it’s not, bud. What’s botherin’ ya?”

Tails was quiet for a few seconds, most likely debating if he should voice his worries. His grip on his tail tightened as he took a sharp breath, mentally preparing for the daunting task that telling your big brother about what’s bothering you apparently is.

“It’s just…” He started, refusing to meet his eyes, “ever since we got back from the cave with the whole prism thing, you’ve been…weird.”

Sonic’s mouth pressed into a line, it seemed he had guessed correctly.

“You’re constantly trying to be around us, but you’re also distant. A-and…it sorta feels like you’re walking on eggshells around me specifically.”

The kit’s ears pressed against the back of his head. “So uh…I guess I just wanted to ask if I did anything to upset you recently?”

Sonic just stared at him. The answer was no, easy. It was pretty much always no. Tails could never upset him. But the words were caught in his throat.

Because that was it, wasn’t it? Tails could never upset him, but someone who looked exactly like him did (well, he wouldn’t say that Nine upset him, either. It was more like he scared him, but even that felt a little harsh.)

He knew it was wrong, projecting one two-tailed fox onto another. He thought he’d learned his lesson, but considering his baby brother was standing at his doorway at the ass crack of dawn, hurt by the way he’d been subconsciously treating him like he had been the one who tried to steal his prism energy, it was pretty obvious that he hadn’t.

But he couldn’t help it that everytime he looked into the kit’s eyes, all he saw was that angry and hurt version of him.

He must’ve been staring for too long because a small “I’m sorry…” snapped him back to reality.

Tails had shrunken in on himself, looking smaller than he usually did. He looked so…young. He looked so guilty even though he hadn’t even done anything. He turned to leave, namesake still in his hands.

Sonic sighed, spreading one arm open. “C’mere bud.”

Tails’ eyes went wide in disbelief…and embarrassment.

“W-what? No-! no. It’s fine, really. I can go, there’s no need for this. Really! I’ll—“

“My arm’s gettin’ tired kiddo.” The hedgehog said, gesturing his head towards the open spot next to him. “Ya got like, 10 seconds.”

Tails hesitantly took a step forward, looking up at his brother to see what he’d do and once nothing happened, he took another step and looked up again.

Then he walked as fast as he could to his brother’s bed, climbing up and curling into his side. Sonic let out a chuckle as he pulled his little brother close to him, Tails responding by snuggling closer.

They sat in silence for a while. Sonic gently rubbed the kit’s back as he blankly stared ahead. The sound of palm leaves gently rustling in the wind was the only thing that filled the air.

“I really am sor—“ Tails started to say, but he was cut off by Sonic ruffling his fur.

“Shush, you.” The hedgehog said. “You didn’t do anything wrong, I promise.”

He looked down to see the kit looking at him, a confused expression on his face. “But-“

“Nope. I’ve just been a little stupid is all. Nothing that’s your fault.” Sonic expected the quiet that would follow, so he let his guard down, until he heard a small snicker coming from the fox kit.

“That’s a recent development?”

Unfortunately, he forgot how cruel his beloved baby brother could be.

Sonic’s gaze shot towards the kit, his expression turned to one of obviously fake shock as his brother giggled quietly into his side. He squeezed the kit as hard as he could without actually causing damage, Tails wheezing out a laugh in response.

“And here I was having a moment, speaking from the heart and all that, and this is what I get?” He said in a joking tone in between Tails’ giggles.

“You set yourself up for that one, don’t blame me!” The kit said, earning being trapped in a headlock and dragged halfway onto the hedgehog’s lap and noogied mercilessly. “Sonic!”

“Nuh uh, you don’t get any mercy after that!”

They both continued to laugh for a few minutes. Sonic dragged his little brother fully onto his lap, the kit squeaking as the hedgehog wrapped both arms around him in a tight hug. “Sorry for makin’ ya feel like something was wrong, bud.” he said.

Tails snuggled up against his big brother’s chest, feeling nothing but the security, love and warmth he’d grown up with flowing throughout his body as he melted into the hedgehog’s touch, a soft purr making itself known. “You don’t need to apologize.”

Sonic’s arms stayed looped around the kit as he leaned back and closed his eyes, the rumbling from the fox’s chest soothing the knot that had formed in his own, just like it always did.

The comfortable silence returned. Sonic was glad that the conversation turned light hearted. He didn’t think he was ready to even begin to explain whatever the hell happened in the Shatterverse, especially to Tails. Not when he knew the kit would blame himself no matter how many times he was told not to.

As the hedgehog felt his brother slowly drifting into slumber, his soft breathes slowly evening out, he suddenly felt a burning need to say something to him. Something he never usually said out loud because he never needed to. It always went without saying, that’s just how close their bond was.

But after everything that happened…

“Hey, bud?” He whispered, the kit stirring as he gently tapped him.

“I love you, Miles. I don’t want you to ever forget that, ok?”

Wide blue eyes snapped up at him, blinking owlishly. He was definitely confused by the use of his real name, but instead of voicing that confusion, he just smiled and nuzzled into his brother’s chest.

“Love you too, Sonic.”

Somewhere in the Shatterverse, there was another twin-tailed fox kit who sat alone in The Grim. Another Miles who had no big brother to cuddle with when he had nightmares or when he was just worried that he had somehow hurt his feelings.

Deep down, Sonic hoped his words would somehow reach him just as they reached the twin-tailed fox kit asleep on his chest.

He leaned forward, placing a light kiss on the top of his little brother’s head before he slowly followed the kit into slumber.

[lucivinyl]

argument

pairing: lucifer x gn!reader

summary: what it says on the tin, hurt/comfort (old request)

“I don’t have the energy to yell at you. You’re not worth it anyways. ”

The words left Lucifer quicker than he could register them. The room sank into tense silence, as if you hadn't been exchanging cutthroat ripostes and throwing blame at each other for the past five minutes.

Head still throbbing with rage, he watched your expression morph from shock to hurt. You were standing so still that you could blend into the wall behind you. The clock ticked and ticked and ticked. 

He knew that he should apologize. He hadn't meant it– he wasn't even aware that he was capable of saying something so brutal to you, but anger had taken hold of him like a parasite. His ego forbade him from stepping down from this fight. 

You nodded finally, eyes hardening into emotionless stones. "Fine. I won't waste your time."

He didn’t have the heart to watch you leave. It was only after he’d heard the door slam shut that he let himself slump into the chair.

It wasn’t supposed to be something severe enough to warrant an argument, but nothing had been going right for him the entire day, and he was just about at the tipping point when he returned home. The day had started with Beel accidentally emptying everyone’s breakfast, leaving Lucifer quite famished until lunchtime. Letters concerning Mammon’s debts somehow found their way into his materials, adding to his irritation. As if that wasn’t enough, Satan and Belphie had the audacity to pull a prank on him in the corridor, which turned out to be a notable mess.

That still wasn’t the worst. What really took the cake was this: the piece of work, the deadline of which had already been pushed back several times at his request, went missing. It didn’t matter how many times Diavolo insisted that it wasn’t a big deal. The fact that he of all people would lose an assignment was humiliating enough.

If only you hadn’t been waiting for him in his office, the whole ordeal would’ve been avoided, but alas, you were sprawled out on the couch when he entered. Unaware of his furrowed brows and irritated huffs, you asked him about his day.

“It was terrible. I couldn’t find the report I’ve been working on for days.” 

Your thumb froze above the screen. "The report on the missing potions?”

“That’s the one.”

You rolled onto your feet and headed over, looking through his piles of identical documents under his confused gaze. Finally, you pulled a thin sheet out, “Here it is. I must’ve misplaced it when I was cleaning your desk this morning.”

He took the paper from you, staring at the words he’d written as if in disbelief. “You cleaned my desk?”

“Yea, you told me it was getting cluttered but you didn’t have time to tidy things up, so I figured I’d do it for you.” You frowned at his unreadable reaction. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. That’s great. It's perfect, even.” He put down the paper with a bit more force than necessary. “Just that my credibility is now ruined.”

“It’s just one time. I don’t believe Diavolo chewed you out for it.”

“He didn’t. It’s not-“ he drummed his knuckles against the hardwood. “Nevermind. Of course you wouldn’t get it.”

The passive-aggressive tone obviously didn’t go over your head. You crossed your arms in front of you, your previously relaxed posture giving way to squared shoulders and clenched jaw, ready to defend yourself.

And then everything just went downhill from there. Snarky retorts, comments that were a bit too personal for comfort, soft gazes replaced by annoyed eye-rolls. Your firmness and determination, which he’d once found endearing, was now unbelievably irksome.

All the while, the voice in the back of his head was telling him to just stop talking before he would say something regretful. He knew that words were like bullets— quick, unfeeling, fatal. He knew that he was way too vulnerable to rage, that it would cloud his head and make him forget reasons, but what was he supposed to do? Back out of something he’d started?

Guilt was eating away at his head, making up excuses only to shoot them down one by one. The truth was, he was still learning to be softer, gentler for you, but once in a while shadows of his past self liked to knock on his door, luring him into doing or saying something cruel, reminding him how good it felt to be in control.

And because he gave in, he was now facing the consequence.

He eyed the closed door. It had been hours since he’d chased you out. You weren’t there for dinner, but Levi had volunteered to bring it to you.

This wasn’t something he could brush off after a night’s sleep, he realized. It was a wound, one that if neglected, would only aggravate and become infested. Pride might be a hard pill to swallow, but it was still better than leaving a dent in your relationship and turning a blind eye to it.

He had to make it up to you somehow.

The night was far too young for you to fall asleep despite your dedication. You kept tossing and turning, replaying what Lucifer had said in your head like a speaker you couldn’t turn off.

He didn’t mean that. Of course he didn’t. It was his anger talking. He would never think that in earnest.

But it hurt nonetheless. 

You rolled onto your back, clenching the blanket as if it was your lifeline. It was ridiculous how hundreds of promises, sweet declarations and tooth-rotting confessions could fade into nothingness, all because of one mindless, unintended remark. 

Feeling tears well up in your eyes again, you reached out to grab a tissue, only to catch something in the corner of your room.

The door was slightly ajar, and outside stood a shadowed figure, as still as a statue. Your heart jumped to your throat before your eyes could adjust.

“Shit!” You cussed, then held your hand to your drumming chest. “That scared me. Oh goodness. How long have you been looming outside?”

“I wasn’t looming. I just stopped by.” Lucifer said, closing the door behind him. His actions were deliberately tentative and slow.

The initial scare was quickly replaced by bitterness. You leaned against the headboard, gaze darting away. “What do you need?”

“I came to apologize.”

At your lack of disapproval, he moved to the side of your bed. If he saw the tissues flooding your table, he didn’t say anything about them.

For a good minute, he just sat there with his side to you, protected by the dimness in the room. You let him muster enough courage to say what was on his mind.

With a sigh, he gave in. “I shouldn’t have blamed you. You were just trying to do something nice for me, and I took it for granted. And those things I said were just… uncalled for.”

It wasn't everyday Lucifer admitted his own faults. When he reached out for your hand, you didn't have the heart to leave him hanging.

“To be fair, I did say some mean things too.”

“Yes, but I truly crossed a line there. I shouldn’t have let myself say that. It wasn’t even true. You’re worth more than everything else in the three worlds combined,” he grazed your knuckles with his lips, then turned to face you. “I’m sorry, love.”

The regret in his tone was enough to melt whatever pettiness you were still holding onto. You opened your arms, letting him bury his face in the crook of your neck. His shoulders relaxed almost immediately.

“I’m sorry too, for messing things up. I'll steer clear of your desk from now on.”

“It’s alright. I could use some help every now and then."

You hummed, threading your fingers through his hair. For a while, you just sat in the dark, leaning against each other and leaving the argument in the past. 

"You know what?" he broke the silence, voice muffled. "I think you may be the only one who can get me to apologize like this."

"I must be really lucky then."

"Maybe I'm the lucky one."

Enveloped by warmth, you came to the conclusion that while it might be easy for you to clash, being both hot-headed and unwavering, deep down you knew that you could do better, and that was enough for now.

[amimimi]

nightmares ; kyan reki

synopsis: in which Reki wakes up from a nightmare and you help him through the aftermath (take place after episode 7)

genre: hurt/comfort, angst with a fluffy ending

warnings: nightmares, panic attack, swearing,

word count: 2.5k

notes: this is sad af IM SORRY. i thought of this scenario when episode 7 dropped but I didn’t write it until recently. i'm going to do a part 2 to this post episode 11 and i promiseee it'll be a lot happier. I apologize in advance for spelling/grammatical errors.

it should’ve been movie night.

you should’ve been wrapped in reki’s arm watching pirates of the caribbean or some other corny movie, simply for the purpose of having not to exert any brain energy.

and you should’ve definitely been teasing reki by smacking noisy kisses on his face or blowing raspberries at the base of his neck.

but alas, it’s nearly midnight and you’re not doing any of aforementioned activities you should’ve been doing. instead, you’re finishing up a paper for your literature class due the next morning. reki, being the supportive boyfriend he was, offered to come over with snacks anyways to offer your moral support. “I gotta hold you accountable, babe!” reki grinned, squeezing your cheeks with both his hands.

that was nearly four hours ago.

currently, you’re furiously typing away at your paper with your legs stretched out in front of you. you were on your conclusion, trying to wrap up whatever you had written. your boyfriend is softly snoring beside you on your bed. he’s facing you, laying on his side with one hand resting on your lower thigh.

you paused from typing upon hearing reki sigh in his sleep. your heart swells and you have to hold back the urge to coo at the sight of reki drooling slightly onto one of your plushies. biting back a giggle, you set your laptop aside and snatch your phone off your bedside table.

after snapping four or so pictures, you notice reki’s brow is slightly furrowed. you still - thinking that you may have waken him up from shifting too much, until his brow furrows deeper and whimpers. your confusion morphs into concern and you realize that reki is having a nightmare.

shit. should you wake him? were you supposed to wake people from nightmares? you were sure you heard it makes it worse. or was that sleeping walking?

suddenly, reki’s eyes, bloodshot with sleep, flutter open as he rouses from whatever miserable dream he was having.

“reki?” you ask hesitantly as he struggles to sit up. he’s taking sloppy breaths, his eyes darting around the room until they land on you. “reki, are you okay?”

you feel your heart drop into your stomach when you see a mixture of confusion and terror in reki’s eyes. his breathing is now bordering on erratic but he manages to wave you away with his hand. “M’fine, m’fine!” he assured you, though his voice is slightly shaking. “you can go back to sleep, sorry to wake you”

you frown. “reki, i wasn’t sleeping. i was writing my essay, remember?”

he just stares at you with an unreadable expression. you want to reach out and touch him—or hold him or something, but you stop yourself. you’re afraid you might make whatever it is worse.

“reki, are you sure you’re alright—?”

but he’s already climbing off your bed, his movements frantic and unsteady. you hear him choke out “just gotta go to the bathroom” between barely audible pants. and before you have time to respond, the bathroom door down the hall shuts but you don’t hear the click of the lock.

with that, you’re left sitting alone in your room. you blink a couple times before hesitantly throwing your legs over the side of the bed. there was no way in hell he was okay and you knew that. never once have you seen him shaken up— so panicked like that. the look in Reki’s eyes and the tremble in his voice was enough to activate the urge to protect. but you were also scared. scared of doing the wrong thing, of messing up and making it worse.

Sighing, you sit back on your bed and decide to give him 10 minutes to gather himself. if he needed your help, you reasoned with yourself, he would’ve asked...

...would reki have asked for help?

knowing the answer to that question, you hauled yourself off your bed and tip-toed out of your room. the house was silent, save for the soft pattering of your footsteps and your parents' soft snores wafting over from their room. as you approach the bathroom as quietly as you can, the faint sound of reki gasping frantically become becomes more evident, and your heart breaks. it takes every ounce of willpower not to break the door down and you take a deep breath before softly knocking on the door.

"reki, baby?" you whisper, with your your lips almost pressed up against the door. reki doesn't answer, but he's still breathing erratically from behind the door and you wonder if he even heard you. “reki?”

no answer. wondering if reki even had the chance to lock the door, you gently twist the knobs and find that your suspicions were correct. you push the door slightly open and your heart shatters.

reki is visibly shaking where he stands in front of the mirror as he grips the edges of the sink, his knuckles white. still taking shuddering breaths, he hangs his head down, his hair plastered to his forehead, and eyes squeezed shut. he’s too absorbed in regaining control over his body to notice you had opened the door.

trying to keep the tremor out of your voice, you whisper his name to get his attention. “reki?”

he hears you this time. reki’s head snaps up so fast you swore you heard a crack. with glossy eyes, he looks up at the reflection of your face peeking in through the door. initially, confusion crosses his face, as though he forgot he was even in your house. however, confusion is quickly replaced with recognition, and his shoulders sag ever so slightly with relief.

“y/n?” reki croaks, and your lips upturn into a sad smile. he takes the sight of you in just a bit longer, deciding if he should be honest with you—if he should ask for your comfort. instead, he lets his head hang once more. “s-sorry, you can go back to bed. i’m fine”

“you don’t seem fine, baby”

reki doesn’t respond, neither conforming or denying your statement. biting your lip, you open the door wider but keeping from stepping in the bathroom. you want to make sure he’s okay, but you don’t want to infringe on his personal space.

“‘are you sick?” you gently question, watching a bead of sweat drip down his temple. his head still hanging, reki shakes his head. “no?”

“i—” reki is cut off by defeated sob and your heart strangles “i can’t calm down”.

something about his confession makes you feel like you’ve been kicked in the stomach. the only thing going through your mind is to protect, protect, protect, protect.

reki’s erratic breathing picks up again, and you step into the bathroom and shut the door behind you.

“okay, it’s going to be okay. i’m here”, you state as calmly as possible. “can i touch you?”

“y-yes” reki chokes out in between rapid breaths. with his consent, you step forward and gently place your hand to his back. his shirt is completely drenched in sweat, but you pay no attention as you rub small circles into reki’s back.

"you're going to be okay, i promise" you try to convince him, but he shakes his head.

"'feels like i'm dying", he says between harsh pants. a small frown forms on your face and you reach over to brush his hair out of his face.

"you're not, reki. you're having a panic attack and i know it feels really scary, but it'll pass" you tell him, trying to keep your voice firm. it devastated you to see him so distressed and you would've switched places with him in a heart beat if you could. "you're safe, i won't let anything happen to you, i promise"

you're not sure if reki believed you, but you meant it. reki was easily one of the most loving person you knew. he poured his heart into you making sure you always felt safe and heard. and not only for you, but for everyone he loved. you recalled many instances of reki grabbing and squeezing your hand in large crowds, ordering food for you whenever you felt shy. and if you had a big exam you were stressing about, he'd bring you breakfast and walk you into your class. reki was your rock so many times before, you wanted to be his now and forever.

reki suddenly jolts and you're snatched out of your train of thought. “'m so dizzy...” reki slurs, with his eyes squeezed shut.

“i know, baby”, you murmur, concerned that he wasn't breathing properly. “can you take a couple deep breaths with me?”

reki hesitates before giving a low sob, “i don’t know if i can"

"you can, reki. i'll do it with you, okay, love?" you soothe as you continue to rub his back. "breathe in through your nose-"

you take an exaggerated breath in through your nose for demonstration, and reki shakily breaths in. "good, you're doing good. and out through your mouth"

reki lets his breath out with a whoosh, and the heaviness in your chest dissipates just a little. "that's it, baby, you're doing so great" you coo. "now breathe in again for four second and out for four seconds. i'll count for you"

reki continues to take measured breaths in time to you counting and your hand doesn't once stray from his back. every now and then, you dab some sweat off his face with the sleeve of your sweater. you make sure to encourage him between breaths, to let him know you're not leaving. this continues on for a couple minutes until reki is able to take measured breaths on his own, without you counting. you never once stop rubbing his back. he's still trembling, but he seems to have calmed down a little.

“do you wanna sit down, maybe?” you’re eyeing the death grip he has on the edges of the sink to support himself up. the last thing you want is for him to collapse and potentially hurt himself. he nods his head, not opening his eyes. "bathroom or my bedroom?"

"bedroom" reki croaks, his voice sounding shot to hell. slowly, his teary eyes flutter open and he turns around to you, still gripping onto the sink. you both lock eyes and your heart bursts with love—like springtime erupted inside your chest.

"i'm so proud of you, reki" you whisper, stroking his face lovingly. he blinks at you before his bottom lip begins to quiver. for a second, you think he's gonna burst into tears but he only sighs shakily and leans into your hand. "come on, let's get you laid up and comfy"

•••

by the time reki is changed out of his sweaty shirt (he declined to take a shower, promising he'd wake up tomorrow to do so) and laid in your bed, he'd gotten through the worst of his panic attack. you had given him the snacks he had brought for you at the beginning of the night, prompting him to eat get rid of the shakiness.

now, reki was sat up in your bed, still donning the care bear blanket you draped over him and munching on a chocolate bar. he watched as you completed your skincare routine in front of your mirror. occasionally, you would glance over at him and smile reassuringly, to which he would tiredly smile back.

rubbing your moisturizer in, you make your way over to where reki is laid up on the bed. he's still chewing his chocolate bar, watching as you climb on the bed and pull yourself over to where he is laying. grinning softly, you tuck your feet under you and tuck a strand of hair behind reki's ear. he instantly nuzzles into your palm and oh, does your heart get soft.

"how do you feel?" you ask, your eyes scanning his face. the color has returned to his face, but his lips are chapped and his eyes are considerably sunken. "did you drink the water like i asked?"

"i'm feeling better and yes, i did" reki playfully retorts, sticking his tongue out at you. you purse your lips to one side and pinch his cheek, drawing a whine out of him.

"reki, look up at me real quick," you frown, holding his chin with your hand. reki momentarily forgets his chocolate bar and looks up at you, confused. you lean down and kiss him, staying like that for a couple seconds before you pull back with a grin. "there! all better!"

"was that supposed to be my get better kiss?" reki asks, his lips quirking with an amused smile.

"kinda? your lips were chapped so i wanted to give you some of my lip masque", you answer. reki rolls his eyes, but you don't miss the slight blush on his cheek. you giggle before reki wraps his arm around your shoulders and tugging you towards his chest. he grabs your nose with two of his fingers and you squeal with delight.

"what the hell is a lip masque?" he questions incredulously as you remove his hand from off your nose. you can't help the series of laughs that erupt from your chest. "oh my gosh, y/n, shhh! your parents will hear you!"

reki tries in vain to shush you, but he's giggling too, albeit a lot more quietly than you. when you manage to catch your breath, you pull yourself from reki’s grasp and sit up in front of him. the both of you smile softly at each other.

you wondered if you should ask him about his nightmare from before, although you had a feeling where this was stemming from. he seemed on edge—distant even, since the beef with adam. you remembered how distressed he was in the days leading up to the beef between adam and langa.

reki was still in a fragile state, you didn’t want to risk asking him about it so soon. maybe tomorrow? the day after that?

reki’s smile faltered. “you okay?” he asks quietly, bringing his hand up to your face. you blink, realizing that you weren’t doing such a great job of concealing your thoughts.

you sigh contentedly, twisting your head to kiss the palm of reki’s hands before placing your own hand over his.

“yes, i just—” you pause. “i just love you so much”

reki giggled and wow, was it the purest sound you’ve ever heard. he leans in and kisses you like you’re the most precious being in the world. “i love you too”, he murmurs, pressing his forehead against yours. you both stay like that, until reki yawns into your face.

“you need to rest, sweetheart”

reki frowns as you lay down, pulling him along with you. “but i am resting” he protests, stifling another yawn.

“i meant sleep” you reply, readjusting the carebear blanket around his shoulders. he tenses in your arms, but you press your lips against his forehead. “i’ll be here, i won’t leave. and i won’t let anything happen to you”

the tension in reki’s body eases and he sighs, nuzzling into your chest. “i love you...” he slurs, eyes already half shut.

“i love you” you whisper, fighting off sleep yourself. you waited until reki’s breathing deepened—the tell-tale sign of sleep, before you let yourself drift off too.

notes: this was long as hell, part ii will be way more happier and wayyy shorter.

[fortisfiliae]

Promised Part 16 - Tom Riddle x reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Masterpost | Masterlist

Summary: In this story, Tom didn’t grow up as an orphan, but with his grandfather and uncle. Reader’s sister got very sick and the Gaunts offer their help. But not without asking for something in return.

Disclaimer: Please be aware that I don’t condone any of this in real life. (GIF is not mine)

Warnings: Arranged marriage, physical fights, mentions of  torture (brief), blood and violence, character death. Read with care!

Word count: 4k

Part 16 - 30th June 1945

The N.E.W.T.s had gone by so quickly, it felt like all the preparations, all those years in Hogwarts and all the worries they had brought you, had been of utmost exaggeration. Of course, they had been challenging, but what the Professors had said about them in advance, how hard and draining they would be, how nervous every student had been, made it even more curious afterwards. It had only taken a few days after all. Some days of your life, which would most likely be forgotten in a few years. Just like any other week. And all that fuss for that? Well, at least they were over.

Tom, Camille and you had passed most classes with the highest grades. Freda had gotten some outstanding grades as well and even Avery and Lestrange had qualified, if only barely. The final evening in the Great Hall was filled with a strange kind of melancholy for the students of year seven. You had done it, all of you. Seven years in Hogwarts, school of witchcraft and wizardry. It was like your first year had only gone by moments ago, you could practically still feel the sorting hat sitting on top of your head. But alas, all good things come to an end.

Final points were given to all of the houses and, to most people’s surprise, Hufflepuff won the cup. Everyone knew headmaster Dippet favoured Slytherin and Tom and Freda had surely given their own house a few extra points here and there, but Avery and Lestrange’s robbery from Slughorn had cost Slytherin too many points to recover from. All Hufflepuffs were overwhelmed with joy and Ben even ran over from the Gryffindor table to kiss Camille on the cheek while she celebrated.

Walking through the halls one last time was strange, you couldn’t fathom that you would leave the castle ultimately. It really had grown to be everyone’s second home and it would always remain so in your heart. Sadly, there wasn’t a lot of time for grief, as the antidote for Mors Grano was finally ready and waited to be filled into a flask to be used the following day. Tomorrow, June 30th would be your wedding day. A day you had dreaded but still couldn’t wait for. A day that was about to change everything.

And there you were. In an old chapel north of Ramsbury, a small muggle town, where no one knew who you were. The Gaunts had chosen the place themselves and had only told your family where to go the day of, most likely to make sure you couldn’t plan to mess with them. 

The chapel was dull, as was everything else there. No guests, not even a priest or a registrar to wed the two of you. Marvolo had told you that he was to do it himself. The place was so small, it wouldn’t have even fit a lot of guests, but you still wished that at least Camille could have been there to witness. And so, with a heavy heart, you stood in the tiny side room, where Mother’s wedding dress waited to be put on, while Elsie, your parents and the Gaunts waited in the chapel.

“Alright?” Tom asked as he fixed his tie in front of the mirror. 

You watched him as you went over towards the dress, your fingers brushing over the silk skirt. He looked great in his tailored black suit, white shirt and dark green tie, there was no way of denying it. Freda Morris would have been just as green with envy if she had seen him, but yet, not everything was about looks. 

“I’m alright,” you said and took another look at the dress. “I have to change now. Put this thing on.”

“I’ll give you some privacy in a minute,” he mentioned as he walked over to the desk where some things were gathered. He had put a large box there when you had arrived. “I brought someone with me.”

He pulled the top off from the box and you peaked in. “Nagini! Marvolo allowed for you to take her here?”

“He doesn’t know,” Tom shrugged. “And it would be better if it stayed that way.”

“I see,” you said as you held your hand inside the box for the snake to smell you. “Well at least I know one of my friends is here.” 

Tom wore an unreadable expression when he closed the box again, his lips thin as he nodded slightly. “Do you have the antidote with you?”

“Yes,” you answered and pulled it out from your pocket. The flask was the size of your palm, small and translucent. The potion inside shone through the glass like a silver and lilac gloss. “It’s right here.”

“Alright then,” he said. “Give it to your sister as soon as you can. I’ll wait outside with the others.”

When he closed the door behind himself you heard Marvolo nagging about what was taking so long, urging for you to hurry. The bastard made everything about himself again, even on your wedding day, which should have been the happiest day of your life. You pulled the dress off the hook vigorously, put it on and changed it here and there with your wand to make it fit better. When you went over to the mirror to look at yourself, it felt like staring at a stranger’s reflection. The dress was beautiful, but you didn’t look even close to what a happy bride should look like. Your hair and makeup had been done in a hurry, nothing was as perfect as it could have been. No traditions, no extended family or friends, not even a banquet. You didn’t know what you had expected - it was clear from the beginning that the wedding wouldn’t be anything like you had dreamed of since you were little - but it was certainly not this. Not as marginal, not as a means to an end.

Three hard knocks on the door pulled you out of your thoughts. “Are you done yet?” Marvolo’s muffled voice called. “Hurry up!”

Desperation turned into annoyance and your eyebrows furrowed even deeper. What did he want now? “I need a minute,” you answered as you opened the door only an inch. “Elsie, Mum, can you help me with my dress?”

Marvolo mumbled a few incomprehensible words while the two walked in. To hell with him, he could wait for five more minutes before he would get what he wanted. And you should get what you wanted too. Right now.

Mother looked you up and down with a smile. “You look beautiful, darling. What do you need help with?”

“Come,” you told them quietly and took Elsie by the hand, leading her to the other end of the tiny room, so that the Gaunts wouldn’t hear you. “I have to tell you something.”

The two looked at each other and then back at you, waiting for you to explain.

“I found something out a while back. Tom told me, he showed me. The curse that hit you, Elsie, it wasn’t sent by someone who wanted to attack Father. It wasn’t meant for Father at all.”

Elsie’s eyes grew wide and Mother laid her hand on your sister‘s shoulder. “What do you mean? Why would you tell us that minutes before your wedding?” Mother asked.

“Let me explain,” you went on. “Tom showed me that it was the Gaunts who sent the curse. That’s why they found a cure so quickly. And why they didn’t heal her completely.”

Mother gasped faintly, her hand wandered up to her own chest. “You mean…”

“Yes. They chose Elsie specifically so that you and Father would agree to their pact.”

“I… I can’t believe it,” Mother mumbled.

“They made me sick?” Elsie asked, her eyes as big and round as marbles. “On purpose?”

You nodded.

“But why haven’t you told us sooner?” Mother asked. “We could have-”

“I did as much as I could without attracting too much attention. Tom and I, we both assumed that the Gaunts wouldn’t even lift Elsie’s curse after the wedding. And even if they did, I wouldn’t trust them enough to let you drink anything that they would give to her again. So we brewed the antidote ourselves.”

You pulled out the flask and held it up in the air. Mother took it and inspected it for a moment. “You brewed that?”

“Yes. Elsie, take it right now. You will be healed completely then and the Gaunts won’t notice anything.”

“Are you sure it’s safe?” Mother asked. “And what then? What are you going to do?”

“Yes, I’m sure it’s safe. And then,” you looked at the door to the chapel and heaved a sigh. “Then I’ll get married. Stick to the plan.”

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Mother said as she handed Elsie the flask.

“Would you rather have her drink something that Morfin brewed up? If he would give her anything at all.”

“You’re right,” she said and shook her head.

“Quick Elsie,” you urged her. “Drink up and we’ll be ready to go.”

Elsie nodded as she pulled the cork off the flask, then put her lips around the opening and took a small gulp. She scrunched up her face into a grimace. “Tastes gross.”

“Sorry, princess. They don’t make recipes for strawberry flavoured antidotes yet. Now drink it.”

Elsie exhaled sharply, then threw her head back and let the liquid pour into her mouth. One swig, two. She had it down almost completely when suddenly the door flew open.

“Excuse me ladies, what is taking you so long?” Marvolo asked, standing in the door frame, with Morfin, Father and Tom behind him. Marvolo stared at Elsie, who was just gulping down the last drops from the flask. “What is that? What did you give her?”

The three of you froze, staring back at Marvolo and the other men. Shit.

“Just her vitamins,” you lied. “To make sure she’s well for the ceremony.”

“No, no,” Marvolo huffed as he walked in. “Give me that.” He took the flask from Elsie’s hand and brought it up to his nose. “Morfin, come here.”

Morfin entered the room as well, took a look at the empty flask and smelled it. Father and Tom took several steps in too, filling up the room almost completely. 

“Stop,” Marvolo ordered and held his hand up to Father and Tom. “I didn’t tell you to come in.” The two halted and remained standing by the door. “Now, son. What is it?”

Morfin inspected the remaining liquid inside the flask, shaking it to see the single droplets hanging inside the vial. One side of his mouth pulled up into a ghastly smirk before he spoke through gritted teeth: “Mors Grano antidote.”

Marvolo brought his hand up to his neck, fumbling on the chain that hung there. That must have been where he carried their own flask with the unfinished antidote. It was still there, which visibly confused him. He remained calm, wouldn’t dare to show that he didn’t know how you had done it, his eyes dark and full of anger.

“You little bitch,” he spat. “Morfin, take the child.”

Morfin did as he was told, quicker than any of you could have reacted and pulled Elsie to the middle of the room by the hand, then stepped behind her, one hand around her neck, his wand in his other one, pointed right at Elsie’s head.

Mother cried out when she saw what had happened to her daughter and turned to walk over to her, while Father ran towards Morfin and Elsie as well.

“Stupefy!” Marvolo called, his wand directed at Father, who fell to the ground immediately. “I told you not to step in. No one’s making a move now unless I tell them to.”

Mother fell to her knees, looking at Father unconscious on the ground and Marvolo gaped at her in disgust. “Take your husband. And shut your mouth, or you’ll be lying there with him.”

She pressed her lips shut and crawled over to Father, slowly dragged him to the corner of the room behind you, where she held his head between her hands. Silent tears ran down Elsie’s cheeks, who was still captured between Morfin’s hand and his wand. You had managed to pull out your own wand during the turmoil and looked over at Tom in the doorframe, who had done the same.

Marvolo had noticed the looks you had exchanged and heaved a bitter laugh. “You two, eh? Partners in crime. And what do you think you’re doing there, girl? With your wand out. Do you really think you can defeat me with your schoolbook magic?”

You gripped your wand tighter to prevent your hand from shaking, swallowed down thickly and frowned. There were a million things you wanted to say, thousands of curse words you could have called him, but Morfin still had Elsie between his fingers. “Don’t you underestimate me, Marvolo.”

He clicked his tongue, let his head fall back and laughed wholeheartedly. “Oh, juveniles. Graduated a day ago and think they’ll conquer the world. Well, I got some bad news for you then. But first, you’re going to tell me how you’ve found out about Mors Grano. And how you got a hold of an antidote that isn’t ours.”

You didn’t answer and only looked at Elsie, who breathed rapidly, her hands holding on to Morfin’s grip around her neck.

“I see,” Marvolo sighed and turned his head towards the door. “Tom, would you give us the honour then? Come, stand next to your fiancée.”

Tom walked over silently and placed himself next to you, his hand gripping yours.

“Oh look at that,” Marvolo feigned. “Tragically in love. Now, Tom, explain.”

Tom didn’t answer, only held your hand a bit tighter and you could feel something cold inside of it, something metallic, perhaps.

“No?” Marvolo asked. “You don’t want to tell us? Well, then we’ll have to motivate you. Morfin, go ahead.”

Morfin grinned but didn’t point his wand at Elsie anymore. Instead, he pointed it right at you. “Crucio!”

The pain that rushed through you was unbearable from the moment it had started. You fell to your knees and opened your mouth to scream, but couldn’t even hear yourself or anyone else anymore. A million knives must have pierced your body at once, and they scraped off your skin with rusty blades inch by inch, while your head hammered and stung as if a lightning bolt had struck right into it. Your vision had left you from the pain, everything around you had gone white and you only heard scraps of conversation between the all-consuming buzz that rumbled between your ears. Tom was begging them to stop, you assumed, but couldn’t concentrate on his words anymore, as the pain threatened to crack your skull.

Then, as quickly as it had started, it ended. You opened your eyes slowly, blinked a couple of times when your perception came back and felt a small hand on your cheek. Elsie kneeled above you, next to Tom.

“What happened?” you asked, your voice hoarse, while you sat up groggily.

Marvolo was still standing in his spot, looking down at Morfin, who lay on the ground, holding his leg with both hands. And attached to his thigh, was Nagini, pressing her fangs into him through his trousers.

“Nagini,” you whispered and as soon as you had said her name, the snake let go of Morfin and retracted.

“She crawled out of her box when he hit you with the curse,” Tom said quietly. “And bit him before they could have noticed.”

Tom helped to get you on your feet again and even though your knees were still weak from the Cruciatus Curse, you stood in front of Elsie, to shield her from the Gaunts.

Morfin winced in pain and still held his leg. Nagini’s venom spread quickly, Morfin’s thigh was twitching on its own.

“Father,” Morfin whined. “I need treatment. Help me get home.”

Marvolo looked down at his son, lips parted with an expression of sheer revulsion on his face. “Do you think I have time to take care of your little injuries right now? Suck it up.”

“But… But Father, I can’t feel my leg anymore,” Morfin panted. “I might die when the venom reaches my heart.”

Marvolo sighed and bumped his foot against Morfin’s hurt leg, to which his son screamed. “Then leave.”

Morfin nodded, it must have taken all of his remaining strength not to pass out, and closed his eyes before he apparated, leaving only a few drops of blood on the floor behind.

“Now back to you,” Marvolo said and looked at Tom as if nothing more than a minor inconvenience had just occurred. “Don’t you dare lie to me. You know I can kill everyone in this room within a second.”

Tom still didn’t answer and placed himself in front of Elsie and you, which made Marvolo laugh again.

“Oh, boy. You’d sacrifice yourself? For this family and not your own? I know I’ve raised you differently. You’re a disgrace.”

“You want me to tell you everything?” Tom asked. “Then let me come closer, so I can share all of my secrets.”

Marvolo remained unimpressed at the thought, there was no spell he couldn’t counter. So he rolled his eyes and shrugged. “Come as close as you want, son. But keep your wand up, where I can see it.”

And so Tom went. One step, two, three, four, until he was face to face with his grandfather. Marvolo still eyed Tom’s wand, gripping his own tightly. And then, Tom moved his other hand abruptly, jerking it toward Marvolo’s abdomen once. You couldn’t see from where you stood and only noticed when Marvolo looked down himself and opened his mouth.

“Imperio,” Tom said quietly while Marvolo fell to his knees.

Now that you could see what he had done, you put your hands in front of Elsie’s eyes, holding them closed. Marvolo was bleeding from his stomach and Tom held a bloody knife in his wandless hand.

“I’m just making sure you can’t apparate,” Tom said coldly. “Like uncle did. The coward. I want to see how you die.”

Marvolo looked up at Tom, opened his mouth but didn’t say anything, tears edging on the corners of his eyes. 

“No. You don’t get to talk now,” Tom went on. “Never again. You’re going to listen. And I’m even going to tell you what you wanted to hear. I found a way to tell her what you have done to Elsie. I stole Morfin’s book, and we brewed the antidote ourselves. Oh yes, before I forget, we also stole some Banshee tears from Morfin, while you were out. Scrook and Hokey were very helpful. I even learned some new things this year. Some of them from a muggle-born, can you believe? It got me thinking, you purebloods are so concentrated on magic, you wouldn’t even realise when I’d come up to you with a knife in my hand. And I was right. You didn’t. You see, you called me a bastard so often and reminded me that my father was a muggle. So I thought I’d remind you myself how much of a half-blood I am. Isn’t it awful dying the muggle way? So slowly, so weak.”

Marvolo laid to the side, impacted by the Imperius Curse and opened his mouth, coughing up blood, his eyes half-closed.

“And now, here we are,” Tom whispered. “You did this all to yourself. Good night, Grandfather.”

It took a while until you all had calmed yourselves. Father had woken up some minutes after Marvolo had closed his eyes completely and you had brought Elsie into the chapel, so she wouldn’t have to see the body. Tom, your parents and you hadn’t decided yet what to do with Marvolo. You had thought about leaving him there, or to apparate him to Gaunt manor, where the elves or Morfin could take care of it. If Morfin himself was still alive. 

Mother joined you in the chapel and you took the chance to get some fresh air outside. Only out in the open you noticed that you were still wearing the white dress. What scorn of fate it was to watch someone die on your wedding day. The door opened again behind you and Tom walked out. He had managed to remain composed better than anyone else there, even though he was the one who had killed somebody.

He walked up to you, looking at the ground and only lifted his head when he stood right in front of you. A warm breeze brushed over your skin as the sun was setting. “Are you okay?” he asked.

You nodded. Physically you were. Your mental state was debatable. “I think I am.”

Tom dipped his head once too and loosened his tie. “Are you scared of me after what you’ve seen?” 

You looked him in the eyes, tilting your head slightly. His pupils were extended, brows sitting calmly above. “No,” you answered. “I would have done the same if I had to.”

He bit his lip and nodded, hands inside his pockets before he took them out, held you by your waist and kissed you. All the tension and stress seemed to leave your body for a moment, your shoulders finally relaxing and you wished you could hold on to him like this for an hour. Tom stayed close for a moment, pressed his forehead against yours and sighed. “So,” he said as he took a step back. “The pact is done with. Elsie is cured. You don’t have to marry me anymore.”

A surprised gasp fell from your lips. You hadn’t even thought about that yet. He was right. “I guess I don’t.”

Tom pushed the tip of his shoe through the gravel on the ground, drawing patterns. “But I wanted to know,” he said. “Would you have gone through with it if this had turned out differently? Would you have married me and stayed?”

There was a moment of silence when you thought about it. What answer could anyone give to such a question? You liked him, yes, you would even dare to say you were in love with him. But would you have really married him this quickly if you could have decided yourself?

“Would you?” you asked, to which he smirked. The wind tousled his hair, just like when you had sat with him at the bench back in the Hogwarts’ courtyard. “Why don’t you ask me? Properly I mean.”

Tom’s smirk vanished and he looked at you seriously. He took both of your hands in his, inspecting you closely. He opened his mouth but shut it again to clear his throat. Then he asked: “Do you want to marry me?”

A smile formed on your face, one that he didn’t mirror, as long as you wouldn’t answer him. “No,” you said. 

Tom’s expression didn’t change, but when you looked closely, you noticed that the size of his pupils had decreased, his brows now hanging in confusion. He still held your hands but you could feel him trembling.

“Not yet,” you added, your smile still in place. “Not like this and certainly not today. Not on Marvolo’s terms. Not without my friends and not before we really get to know each other and both decide, on our own, that we want to do it.”

You leaned forward, kissed him once and said: “So, ask me again in a year or two?”

And then, the rarest sight of them all, Tom Riddle smiling genuinely, was given to you. He looked so handsome wearing it and with the orange light from the setting sun on his face when he let your hands go and pulled you in.

“I promise I will.”

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Masterpost | Masterlist

That was it, the grande finale :3 I truly hope you liked it! There’s still one more part to come, the epilogue, which will hopefully please the majority of you. I see it as a little cherry on top. Please consider leaving a comment and tell me what you think so far :) They motivate me so much to keep writing! Thank you for reading!

Permanent tags: @geeksareunique @ren-ela @marauderskeeper @way-obsessed5 @oreofrappiewithblueberry @draqcnheartstrinq @dogfatherpads @obscurilicious @maralisa124 @theseuscmander @lumos-barnes @theboywhocriedlupin @igotmadskills @jamcspotters @vulpecula-minor @snarledblack @swellwriting @carolinesbookworld @fandomtravels @heartbeats-wildly @clockworkherondale @aikeia @i-padfootblack-things @emmamass24 @sleep-i-ness @miss-theya @gruffle1 @pcseidcnsvoid @buckysblueeyes-18 @angelinathebook @nao-cchi @imboredandneedalife

Promised tags: @superblyspeedydragon @angeli-fucking-cat @cyarikaaa @hp-slaps @prettylittlehiddles @katjusja @elderwilliams @-thatgirloverthere- @1950schick @kissing-violet-wings @accio-boys @mythicalamphitrite @aqswdefrgthzjukilop @always394patronus @nesseldee @peachyserenade @iliveforthefandom04 @chr0nicbackpain @truly-insatiable @blushingpogue @scarlet-says-hi @staplerrrr @uglipotata72829 @muralskins @noobmaster696969 @urbankite2 @prettysatan @april-showers-and-flowers @etherrxall @slytherclawmalfoy @thoseofgreatambition @officiallyunofficialperson @lettersfromtheocean @whyisallthecoolstufftaken @eternitydarkling @blisfvll @hufflautia @weasleybees @katieakamine @myblissfulparadise @delicrieux @atlanticowe @stellariddle @princessria127 @random-fangirl001 @lovie-recs @angelic-blxssom @fuzzycloudsz @ladyblablabla @kisaraginami @ourstarsailor @softcore-single @pancakefancake @lxncelot @tararuthven @weasleymagic @arthemis-o-negative @trashysara @madamerosier @makingpeoplesmile97 @simpforhyunjin @voidcupidz​

If your tags don’t work, please check if your email is verified on tumblr, and/or check your blog’s visibility settings. If your blog is hidden from search results, I can’t tag you.

[soradragon]

Sugary Comfort

Art’s not mine I found it and credit goes to the wonderful owners of this master piece of a drawing!

First Mikey x reader! I am proud and content with this one!

Thank you my sweet new beta reader for helping me edit this fic I love u and your amazing! <3

Warnings: sensory overstimulation in the beginning, lots of fluff, one pun

Mikey x f! reader

Check out my main masterlist if you liked what you read and wanna read more!

If you want to be tagged in the upcoming fics don’t be afraid to ask me! ^^

Anyway, enjoy^^

~~~~

You gazed at the reflection of a girl. She looked utterly exhausted; bags under her eyes like she hasn't slept in ages. 

Her lips were tilted up in a sneer; it was evident that she was repressing the urge to scream. But instead of giving in to the voice begging her to do just that, she drove her foot through the water's surface. Not only disfiguring the reflection of the girl, but also dirtying the dress you nitpickingly chose to wear this day. At the time you felt beautiful wearing it. Proud that you chose the right clothes to fit with the dress, completing the look you wanted.

Now, you just didn't care.

You didn't feel pretty nor proud.

You choked out a sob, rubbing the back of your hand against your face harshly.

You wanted all the white noise to stop, wanted the crying to stop, wanted the searing headache to stop. Why couldn't time freeze? Then, maybe the chaos in your head would finally end.

You had tried everything you knew that normally should have worked. Out of all of the times for those methods not to work, why did it precisely choose now when it actually matters?

You followed all the steps. You even rehearsed the steps as you did them.

Step one: When you feel an episode coming, go to a quiet place with dull, even colours. 

You had almost dropped your project when you felt everything becoming overwhelming, muttering an explanation to your teacher before almost booking out of the school building, to the most calming place you could recall; the park.

Step two: Once you have found a quiet place, go sit down and use your headphones to block out all of the sounds.

The headphones did not work.

Your never-ending trains of thoughts took the place of the noise and multiplied it by two. 

Images that flashed before your eyes every time you closed them were too bright. You were unable to figure out the meanings behind the words your mind screamed at you. 

All of it only worsened the already painful headache.

After only a moment you tore the headphones from your head.

Step three: Try even your breathing, and count to ten to ground yourself.

This was the only step that worked. You managed to calm yourself and stop your ragged breathing but it took effort. It took two attempts of counting to ten before it succeeded.

This whole fiasco petered you out mentally and physically. You just wanted this unnecessary sensory to decrease and quiet down to at least a tolerable level. But alas, the world did not want to cooperate this time.

You sighed, casting your gaze to the heavens. 

The sky was beautiful this evening - painted in orange and pink - and you would have taken the time to admire it, had it been in a different situation.

After hearing a familiar yet obnoxious 'ping' coming from within your bag, you cursed under your breath. You snatched your bag from behind you crudely, zipping it open with a huff. As you turned it on, you flinched at the bright light of your screen.

One unread message from 'Mom.'

She was worried sick no doubt. You felt guilty for worrying her, and wanted to reassure her that yes, you were safe, but felt like trash and were in the middle of an episode that wouldn't stop. No matter how hard you tried, all the obnoxious and illogical sensory your brain's been picking up did not stop. Though, on the other hand, you just wanted to ignore the message and skip the whole situation of explaining everything altogether and just turn off the screen and put notifications on mute. You sent a quick 'k' to whatever she had messaged you and moved on to the mute button.

Your finger hovered above it when a notification popped up, causing you to hesitate.

One new message from 'The great Mikester dude!'

Without thinking, you pressed on the notification, staring with big eyes at the message he had sent you: Guess who and where dudette. :P

"Mikey." You gasped out, manoeuvring your head in all kinds of directions, eyes skimming all over the park, trying to find the one in question. You felt the tingling and buzzing feeling of hope and glee pool in your body, replacing the sadness and anger.

All problems were forgotten or pushed to the back of your mind.

The white noise died down suddenly when you heard a low thud and the slight rustling of leaves. 

There was no other explanation; they were here...You were sure of it. 

Only they could stop the chaos when everything else failed, though you didn't know how, nor the logic in it. 

You guessed it had something to do with their ninja nature or something. (Even though Donnie told you multiple times that it might have been because of the aura they carried with, them, being half turtle and all that jazz had its side effects on some humans, like how a pet could soothe its owner simply by being near them. You still blamed it on them being ninjas.)

With your mind settled down, you could think clearly again. 

You briefly acknowledged the fact that you most certainly were a dishevelled mess. Puffy eyes from crying, clothes covered in mud, and hair all over the place, considering that you've pulled and tangled your hair in frustration. Despite all of this, you didn't care.

You were too busy thinking of a plan to lure them - you guessed it was all of them, though it could be only Mikey - out of their hiding place.

You accidentally placed your hand on your phone, making it vibrate, and your hand shot back as if it had burned you. A few seconds after, a song piped up.  A lot of curses could be heard from the tree where the music came from, the leaves rustled like no tomorrow. Mikey fell out of said tree not long after, hitting the ground with an 'oof' followed by a groan. You stared at Mikey for a couple of seconds before doubling over in laughter as the realisation hit you:

You had accidentally called Mikey!

Well, it sure helped you find him!

You counted that as a win on your part. And it seemed that Mikey was on his own, for normally one of the brothers, cough Raph cough would have jumped out from their hiding place and scolded Mikey.

He rolled into a sitting position, giggling with you.

"Yo, dudette! Fancy seeing you here. Don't mind me dropping in," he said, peering at you with an expecting smile, seeming to wait for a reaction. 

It took you a hot second or two for you to catch on, eventually groaning at the pun and face-palming yourself for your delayed comprehension. He did jazz hands and everything.

The great ninja Michelangelo just punned...

You wanted to kick yourself, you completely forgot that April had warned you about Mikey using puns. She had messaged you not too long ago about how it was a "Big" (with capital B) mistake of Casey to teach Mikey "The Art of puns." For Mikey had become obsessed with them. - Throughout the whole exchange, Casey had managed to steal April’s phone a few times and messaged you some words. Three guesses which one was Casey’s input on the matter. - 

You had no clue what they meant with "mistake" throughout that whole exchange. 

You appreciated a good pun.

This was not a good pun. 

You could just imagine the brothers’ reactions to Mikey's newfound fixation: Raph screaming desperately for Mikey to shut up. Donnie being hella annoyed with something pressed against his (ears?) to drown Mikey out. Leo would definitely try to ignore him, probably without success, because you knew...oh, you knew Mikey would take every chance he got to make a pun.

Your heart went out for them. Needing to go through such torture was horrid, yet it was a funny sight to be completely honest. Not that you would ever tell them, heavens no.

You were not going to poke three bears with a stick - in this case, mutant turtles. You were not ready to die three separate times.

"Dude, that was so bad,” you said, making a face as if you had just been forced to smell Raph's feet. You still regret going through with that bet.

"Dude!"

Mikey frowned, throwing his hands in the air. You knew he wasn't really offended, just a bit pouty.

"It's the truth, dude," you retorted absentmindedly, casting your gaze from left to the right before it rested on your bag. Smiling slightly, you snatched it, hauling it over your back before turning back to Mikey who sat contently against the tree. 

"But," you emphasised the word by pointing your index finger in the air, "you can get better,” your grin widened as you spoke.

 “And I, Y/N, know how it's really done."

Mikey's pout vanished and a wide, child-like grin overtook his face. You had his full attention, as he observed you expectantly from his cross-legged position. 

The long uncut grass rippled towards and caressed Mikey, the blades of green curling slightly forward and creating an image of what looked like nature sheltering Mikey from the harsh reality outside of this garden of paradise. 

The green-filled branches of the tree hovered above him, leaves gliding down every now and again, covering Mikey in small dapples of shadow.

Dusk's hew engulfed the image before you in a soft purple radiance. Mikey's skin practically glowed, making him look like a forest fairy.

It was a captivating sight. 

You could mistake it for a painted fairy tale that had come to life. Whoever the painter was had made sure that each tiny detail captured the magic and beauty of the image before you.

A magic-filled world coexisting in the harsh one you stood in... what you wouldn't give to cast all worries aside and join that world.

You were so lost in the moment that you almost forgot to continue.

Shaking yourself free from the enchanting sight, you carried on, albeit flustered, "a-and I could, um, teach you a thing or two. If...If you want me to, that is."

Mikey almost jumped right in your face before the words had completely left your mouth. There were practically stars in his eyes! He actually looked really adorable.

"Really!? You would!? Y/N, you are the best!!"

Mikey engulfed you into a hug, his body nearly covering your entire body from the world.

You gave a chuckle as he kept his arms circled around you, letting you sit in his lap. You didn't mind at all, feeling cosy in his arms.

"Of course I would Mikester. It would be my pleasure!"

You raised your hands to Mikey's cheeks, giving them a couple of pats before you continued.

"That way, you have a reason to end patrol earlier so we can spend more time together," and it would give the others a break from the barrage of bad puns, but you didn't voice that out loud. 

Mikey seemed to agree. He didn't waste any time to establish when and where this 'class-session', as he called it, would be taking place. He wanted it to become, without a shadow of a doubt, a weekly thing, like movie night at the turtles’ place with everyone.

Mentioning movie night brought up some nasty memories of last time -the movie night itself wasn’t bad, just one of your episodes got out of hand -  and Mikey changed the subject promptly after seeing you wince slightly. 

He told you about all kinds of new skateboard tricks he mastered and invented.

After a little while - when everything had been said about skateboarding - Mikey started to eagerly talk about random topics, bringing up stuff like how his training went this morning or what he encountered on patrol. Just little things to draw more time spending in this position. You kept in mind that this peaceful moment couldn't last forever, for both of you would have to separate sooner rather than later. 

You needed to go home to your no doubt worried sick parents, before they would start search parties. And Mikey...had to wait till the next time you two could hang out. (Which wasn't as often as both of you desired)

You listened to his voice silently, only humming a reply whenever Mikey asked for your opinion, snuggling deeper into his embrace as you lost track of time. Drowsiness tugged at your consciousness, beckoning you to close your eyes and let sleep take over. The way Mikey held you close to him made you feel loved and safe, with you resting your head against his chest to hear his heartbeat. He rubbed soothing circles on your left shoulder with one hand, making it impossible to resist the urge to let sleep take you away to dreamland. 

You vaguely heard Mikey's voice murmur in your ear, "Sweet dreams, sugar muffin..." You felt soft lips brush against your forehead before sleep took you over.

*(*)(*)*

Michelangelo stayed seated for a little while longer, looking at your sleeping form with loving eyes. If the world would have let him, he would have stayed like this forever. Alas, the moment was broken when your mobile pinged inside your bag, vibrating like crazy.

Mikey panicked. Jumping to his feet (surprisingly without stirring you) without thinking. He opened your bag in such haste he had almost dropped you trying to grab the vibrating phone before it would wake you.

He sighed in relief when the phone stopped its obnoxious buzzing after he managed to keep you from falling. He shifted you gently onto one arm to hold you delicately, yet tightly to his chest, as if he was protecting you from the world around you.

Once he made sure you were nestled comfortably in his hold,  he glanced towards the device lying in his palm. Mikey held it at an arm's length.

One question drifted inside his mind: Who in their right mind would call you this late in the evening?

It was a question where he could get an answer, but Mikey didn't want to pry into your private life without your permission.

But the curiosity gnawed at him like he would do with pizza.

He shook his head and chastised himself for goggling the device longingly. "No, bad Mikey...Be the better man, you can do this," he muttered, moving to put the phone in your bag until your phone buzzed again, displaying the number of notifications on the lit-up screen.

It made him halt in his tracks. 

Mikey knew you were having a bad day today. After all, he saw you crying by the pond in the centre of the park. It was a mere coincidence, patrolling around the park at the time. He had seen you crying and decided right then and there that he would cheer you up. But he had no idea you had that kind of bad day. 

There were seven unread messages and three missed calls from your mother. All of them showed how worried she was about you, asking where you were and if you had one of your sensory overstimulation episodes.

Without really thinking about it, he typed a reply to your mother: Batteries died, was with a friend. Coming home through the fire escape forgot keys.

It wasn’t a  grammatically correct message, he knew. It was the best he could do with one hand and one thick tumb.

Mikey glanced towards you with gentle eyes and a soft smile after sending the message and put your phone back in your bag.

He moved you gently, holding you with both arms again and cradling you against his chest.

You, in turn, stirred and snuggled deeper into Mikey's chest, making his heart soar.

"Time to get you home, sugar muffins..." he whispered softly, brushing a couple of stray hairs out of your face.

Mikey moved swiftly yet precisely, ensuring you did not wake or feel uncomfortable during roof-top-hopping. You needed all the rest you could get; the bags under your eyes made him even more certain of the fact.

Your home came into Mikey's field of vision far too soon. Opening the window and laying you softly onto your bed felt too fast for his taste.

Mikey took extra care to tuck you in. He even attached a little note to your bag for you to find when you would wake up. 

He really wanted to stay longer, but the sound of your parents coming up the stairs told him it was time to go. He opened the door of your room slightly so your parents would know you were home. Michelangelo climbed through the window before your parents could see him.

He watched your parents turn on the light from a rooftop across your window. Your dad gave you an extra blanket before the two of them turned off the light and left your room.

Mikey stayed there on the rooftop for a little while longer before leaving, looking over his shoulder one last time and then he sprinted over the rooftops towards home.

*(*)(*)*

You found the note the next day. You smiled brightly at the words hastily scribbled on the pape. You texted Mikey a reply before you went to look out your window. Your eyes draw towards the morning sky, which was painted in a soft orange hue.  

You repeated the words inside your head, making you excited for the next time you would see your turtle in orange...

Yoo, dudette! Can't wait for the pun-session upcoming Friday! 

I'll pick you up at ten alright? It's a date! ;) <3

~~~~

Thank you for reading, and keep soaring high!^^

Forever taglist

@theincaprincess​ 

[innittowinit]

Abandoned amusement parks are the best place for young children  (chapter 21)

Fic summary:

Techno, Tommy, Wilbur and Phil have been hanging out at the abandoned amusement park in the woods since they moved in. Techno likes knowing he's definitely alone with his brothers Tommy likes climbing on the old rides Wilbur likes having a place to play his music Phil likes spending time with his younger brothers

That is, until a group of brothers calling themselves the 'dream team' move in down the road. Will the sleepy boys give in and share the park or will they succeed in scaring the new kids off?

Chapter summary:

sometimes school gets tough but friends are always there to lend a hand right?

Chapter word count: 1433

AO3

Yeah… It was starting to get a little obvious that Eret was avoiding them, when they had passed him a note in science he immediately bunched it into his pocket, when they tried to catch him between lessons he acted like he was in a rush and when they tried to find him at break it was like he had just vanished into thin air. Wil wasn’t stupid. He had been suspicious since the texts started to diminish but now it was pretty much just a plane fact, as much as it pained him to admit, he had hoped this time would be different and they could actually keep a friend for once but he guessed that was just wishful thinking.

Really, it wasn’t common for Wil to be the one zoning out in class, that was definitely more something Techno would do, but of course anyone would be a little distracted if they were trying to figure out friendship issues when they were so inexperienced. Maybe that’s why he hadn’t noticed Techno tugging on his sleeve at first.

A little flashcard was slid across the desk, a note from his brother it seemed. ‘Can we leave for a bit? I need a break’

Obviously, the note had to be short to fit on the small piece of paper, plus it wasn’t necessarily needed considering Wil could usually understand the problem from the tugging alone. Not wanting a repeat of the ticket-booth incident, Wil scrambled in his pocket for a little laminated slip of paper, hopping up and quickly going to the teacher’s desk to place it before ushering his brother out of the room.

Recently, the staff had been trying to help them a little more, Wil thought it definitely seemed like their therapist had emailed them or something by the looks of it, that or they had noticed how shaken up Wil had been recently and wanted to try and be as accommodating as possible. That being said, recently they had each been given a little pass that could let them leave the classroom without question if they gave it to a teacher, meaning they’d no longer be getting in trouble every time one of them was just having an overall bad day and wasn’t able to deal with that environment.

Once out of the room, Wil breathed a sigh of relief and started to lead Techno down to an empty classroom where they could hopefully talk about why the card had to be used.

Now that they were alone, Techno was visibly more comfortable, going forward to sit on one of the desks as he fiddled with his ponytail. More often than not, there wasn’t some big emotional gesture whenever they left, sometimes a TA would come and find them with some work they could be doing on their own but generally they seemed to understand that sometimes they weren’t in a state to be doing the work.

“Are you okay then?” Wil hummed as he hopped up to sit on the desk too, flopping backwards a bit. “I think that’s the first time I remembered to give the card in first”

“I’m okay, just a lot of noise in there” A sigh escaped his lips as he leaned his head on Wilbur’s shoulder, gently pushing Wil’s thigh a little bit away from his own since having thing’s touching him when he hadn’t consciously decided for it never really helped with sensory overload. As always though, Wilbur was understanding, always trying to be careful with Techno whenever he needed a break.

“I was thinking..” Techno had hummed “we can just like...talk to Eret, right? Like if we tell him it’s important and that we noticed he’s been running off lately, no way he’d just leave then, Right?”

Wilbur gave a solem little nod, appearing to finally accept the reality that maybe they had messed up and pushed their friend away. With a little bite onto the inside of his cheek, it was obvious that he was mulling over their past few interactions, searching and scanning for any kind of answer for how they might have hurt him.

“We need to meet up with Dream and his lot after school though so maybe we should leave it till tomorrow? I know Phil will be there but I don't want to risk getting all emotional again”

With another nod, Wilbur took out his phone, tapping on the old arrow buttons until he got to Eret’s contact, just wanting to review what they had said to him once more.

---

Message history:

Saturday 7:34 PM Eret: *Image attachment* Eret: Reminded me of you two lol

               Wilby Soot: Much agreed, Much agreed Wilby Soot: Hang out later?

Eret: Cant, busy :/ Another time

       Monday 4:45 PM Wilby Soot: Tech wants to know if you’re gonna play mc with him

Eret: Homework UGH Eret: Busy man sorry :/

       Tuesday 8:58 PM Wilby Soot: Let us know if we overstepped any boundaries okay x Wilby Soot: We aren’t really used to this stuff, we care abt you tho

---

It felt a bit depressing to be looking over all the old messages, the feeling was akin to when you eat too much and wake up in the middle of the night feeling super nauseous.

Alas though, life never seemed to go easy on the two brothers as the door to the door to the empty classroom’s door swung right open. At first, Wil had thought it was a teacher coming to deliver some work for them to do but as he heard the familiar sound of yelling and laughter, he soon realised the much more likely reality of it being a group of boys who were skipping class.

Quickly, fight or flight seemed to kick in, letting him shuffle back over to Techno and grab hold of his hand, just in case. It was pretty much a given that they were going to be getting made fun of, sure the majority of students left them alone now, taking about them behind their back at worst, but the kind of guys who carelessly skipped without any reason definitely felt like the type that would tease them for being so close. They didn’t understand. They wouldn’t understand. They just hadn’t experienced life like they had.

The mantra repeated in his head as he controlled his breathing, forcing his eyes to the floor as he waited to be laughed at. This wasn’t exactly a rare occurrence but that didn’t mean it was all nice and fine, he just had to keep himself calm, for Techno, he couldn’t let his brother be stranded without someone who could interpret for him.

The laughter had pretty much died down as the group came to stand in front of them, seemingly now aware of their presence in the classroom, but the teasing didn’t start straight away. Certainly, this felt like something strange so Wilbur gingerly lifted his head back up only to be met with the familiar tall frame of his friend.

“Eret?”

Surrounding him there was a group of other boys who all seemed to carry themselves in a similar vein, all very stylish and put together, a stark contrast to the twin’s hand-me-down clothes and patchwork sewing spots. Wilbur couldn’t really identify all of the boys, some were from their Year but some looked a bit older, maybe year 9’s or year 10’s.

“Uh...hi. Guys, this is Wilbur and Techno...I uh.. I know them from class”

The familiar sound of muttering was echoed around the room as the boys seemed to try and decide what they were going to do with them. Predictably, it was all the usual ‘oh they’re the quiet ones’ ‘The tall one is really clingy’ stuff, at first it would hurt them but they’d grown a pretty thick skin by now, they didn’t really care about what a bunch of random guys thought of them.

They didn’t care. It didn’t matter. They were used to it.

They didn’t care and it definitely didn’t hurt that Eret hadn’t introduced them as friends and it absolutely absolutely didn’t hurt at all that these were the people he was hanging out with.

“Dude, these your little friends, man?” One of the heftier boys had laughed, elbowing Eret in the ribs lightly as he teased him. That didn’t hurt either, their affection and friendship being used as an insult.

Eret looked at them for a couple seconds, expression unreadable.

“Man no way! I wouldn’t be caught dead hanging out with them!”

Oh..

Oh wow.

Okay fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck

[kumeko]

Sylvain and F!Byleth- 13

From this! Sylvain’s such a flirt but I like writing him a little flustered. I’m going to try to finish the other three this week, but if anyone else wants on, feel free to dm!

...

...

...

There was something absolutely calming about strollingthrough Garreg Mach in the afternoon. A strong sun, nonexistent breeze, and thesoft warble of birds, and it was easy for Sylvain to forget about his worries.Well, mostly easy. He cast an idle eye on his surroundings, on the slowlyreducing piles of rubble, on the scorch marks on the wall. Despite his formerclassmates’ best efforts, the signs of battle were not so simply erased.

 Still, it was a nice day. Even in the midst of a raging war,it was important to take time off and recuperate. Sylvain glanced at thedark-haired woman next to him and grinned. Honestly, it had been ages since he’dgone on a date with Byleth.

 Dating. He was dating Byleth. They were lovers. He could getused to calling her girlfriend.

Interlacing his hands behind his head, he glanced curiouslyat the clipboard in her hand. “What’re you doing again?”

 “Patrolling and taking stock,” Byleth stated. Almost all ofher sentences felt like a confirmation of a fact. “I need to see how therepairs are going.”

 “Ah, two very important duties.” Sylvain nodded sagely. Itwasn’t a proper date, but he’d take what he could get. “What do you think?”

 Byleth frowned, looking up from her notes. “It’s…” Shepaused, looking at the crumbling columns and collapsed entranceways. Herfingers curled into a tight fist. “It’s getting there.”

 That was the word for it. The monastery was getting there.His classmates were getting there. Five years was a long time and even thoughhe’d known some of these people almost all his life, Sylvain felt like he wasrelearning who they were. Though, it must be worse for Byleth. For her, fiveyears ago was just yesterday. What did it look like in her eyes, to seeeverything change but have no context for it? He grabbed her hand and squeezedit.

 She was here today, at least. Whatever came next, she’d witnessit. He’d make sure of it. When she looked at him questioningly, Sylvain smiledand pointed at an overturned bench. “I remember spending a lot of time on thatbench.”

 Byleth stared at him before turning to the bench. “Yes, yourejected a lot of girls there.”

 He winced. “Maybe not a lot—”

 Byleth snorted and shook her head. “A lot.”

 “Fine, fine.” Perhaps that wasn’t the best memory to bring up.Directing her down a corridor to what used to be the gazebo, he said, “Whenthis is fixed, we can have tea here again. It was really cute when you invitedme.”

 At that, Byleth smiled, her expression tender. “I’d likethat.”

 “It’s a date.” Brimming with confidence, Sylvain pointed ata corner. “That’s where I used to kiss—” He cut himself off. Maybe that wasn’tthe right story to share. Instead, he turned to where a door hung off itshinges. “I liked sneaking in—” Nope, another memory best kept to himself.

 Actually, now that he thought about it, almost every memoryhe had of the monastery was filled with secret trysts and discrete kisses. Likethe stables or the training room or—damn. Ingrid hadn’t been kidding when she’dyelled at him. The school felt like a minefield now and desperate, he searchedfor a spot that didn’t have former fling attached to it. For once, he didn’twant to send a girl home crying.

 No, he wanted their burgeoning to last.  

 Byleth’s lips quirked, amused. “It’s good to see makinggirls cry wasn’t the only thing you did.”

 “Byleth!” Sylvain flushed, his ears burning from embarrassment.Just how many of his breakups did she witness? If only he had listened toIngrid.

 Byleth’s expression didn’t change and he hoped she was justteasing him. “I—”

 “Sylvain!” Ingrid’s voice echoed through the stone corridors.“Where are you?”

 He frowned. It was like she had a sixth sense for thesethings. Maybe she’d honed after years of cleaning up his messes. Looking overhis shoulder, he sighed. While Ingrid wasn’t in sight yet, it was only a matterof time before she dragged him off for some task or the other. Turning back toByleth, he squeezed her hand. “I wanted to spend more time together, but alas,duty calls.”

 An unreadable expression crossed Byleth’s face and shenodded. “It does.”

 Sylvain sighed again. His girlfriend was a little stoic, tosay the least. It was adorable, truly was, but sometimes…sometimes he wished itwas easier to guess what she was thinking. To know what she felt. If thefeeling that threatened to overwhelm him wasn’t as big for her. “Call me nexttime you’re patrolling!” He raised her hand and kissed while winking. “Cutedates like these are fun.”

 She bit her lip. “They are.”

 “Sylvain!” Ingrid was closer now, frustration leaking intoher voice. He glanced down the corridor once more and caught sight of her greendress.

 “Co—”

 “Sylvain.” Interrupting him, Byleth stepped back into theshadow of a column.

 “Yes, love?” he asked, automatically stepping after her.

 Without warning, she tugged his tie, yanking him down beforekissing him firmly. Her other hand gripped his hair, pulling him closer beforefinally letting go. Gently, she murmured against his lips, “I wanted to spendmore time together too.”

 With an enigmatic smile, she slipped off down the hall.

 “There you are!” Ingrid grumbled, her footsteps clanking againstthe granite floor. “Why didn’t you answer me?”

 “S-sorry,” Sylvain muttered, pressing his burning faceagainst the cool stone column. And here he thought he was the flirt, thecharming one. If he fell for Byleth any faster, he was going to drown.

[emospritelet]

Because I am a biiiiiiiiiiitch : 25- “Our child is dead.”

I managed not to kill anyone filling this prompt. Last time, Belle thought she was retaining a tiny bit of control over her life, and then Gold tracked her down and turned up at her door at the end of a terrible day

Please send me a prompt from this list or this list if you want me to hurt the babies :)

[Ch 1] [Ch 2] [AO3]

Belle felt as though a cold hand had taken hold of her heart and was squeezing. It was hard to breathe, and she bit her lip to stop it from trembling. There was loud music coming from apartment 5, a throaty, grungy sound with the all-too-familiar overdub of the occupants yelling at each other. A door slammed somewhere along the corridor, making Belle jump. Gold was eyeing her steadily, a flat, unreadable expression on his face, and she was suddenly very aware that she was a mess, soaking wet and with no makeup on, whereas he was his usual contained, perfectly-attired self. How the hell had he found her? Why the hell did he have to look so good? She gestured at him, a weak flail of one hand.

“You - you cut your hair,” she said lamely.

“Observant.”

His voice was cold, and it made her want to shrink back. She clutched at the door frame to steady herself, swallowing hard.

“What are you doing here?”

Gold raised an eyebrow, his mouth twisting.

“Seriously?” he said. “After the somewhat life-changing news you gave me, you really have to ask that?”

“I just meant - I just meant why are you here,” she said, wishing she sounded more coherent than she felt. “I - I wanted us to meet somewhere else. Like - like neutral territory, or something. Like the corner diner.”

“Well, perhaps if you had responded to one of the numerous calls I made instead of resorting to the childish use of the silent treatment, you would have been able to call the shots,” he said dryly. “Alas, we are where we are. Are you going to let me in, or do you want to have this conversation out here on the landing?”

Belle hesitated, unsure how to tell him to fuck off in a way that would work, and Gold glanced back at the stairwell.

“It’s just that there’s a rather strong smell of marijuana coming from up from the second floor,” he said, “and I’d prefer not to have this coat reeking of it, if it’s all the same to you.”

Her brain had gone blank, and she couldn’t think of a good enough reason to refuse, so she stood aside in silence and let him walk past her. He seemed to drag the cold weather in his wake, and she shivered as she closed the door behind them, muting the grunge music to a low-level booming hum. Gold was glancing around her tiny apartment with a look of contempt, and she put her hands on her hips, feeling defensiveness rise within her.

“This is where you live?” he said coldly.

“It’s not that bad.”

“It looks as though it should have been declared unfit for human habitation ten years ago.”

“Yeah, well, not everyone can afford a four-bed Victorian,” said Belle stiffly. “I make minimum wage, okay?”

“The elevator doesn’t work,” he said, and she winced.

“Yeah, it’s - it’s kind of temperamental.”

“There’s damp on the landing walls outside,” he added. “I suspect a faulty air conditioning unit or a leaking pipe. Have you had any problems with mould?”

She folded her arms.

“Did you become the landlord when I wasn’t looking?”

“No,” he said coldly. “If I were landlord the elevator would work and there wouldn’t be fucking damp in the walls.”

“How I live is none of your business!” she snapped.

“It’s my business what environment you plan on bringing my child into,” he retorted. “Who else lives here?”

“No one!” she said, lifting her arms and letting them fall. “Why would you think someone else lives here, the place isn’t big enough to swing a cat!”

“Thank you for proving my point,” he said dryly. “You clearly thought I was someone else when I knocked on the door. A repairman, perhaps? What else is wrong with this hovel?”

He looked her up and down very deliberately, then headed for the bathroom. Belle let out a squawk of protest as he stepped past her, but Gold had wrenched open the door and taken in the scene that awaited him before she could stop him. He nodded to himself as he came back into the lounge area, wiping his shoe on the carpet and looking grim.

“Pack your things,” he said curtly.

“What?”

“You heard me. Pack your things. You’re not staying here.”

“You can’t just turn up and throw me out of my own apartment!” she protested. “You have no right!”

“I have every right!” he snapped. “You think I’m going to allow my child to live here? It’s a fucking death trap!”

“It’s not that bad!”

He stepped forward, right hand clenching on the cane handle. That old moonstone ring still circled his ring finger, the thick band gleaming gold, the blue-grey stone winking in the light.

“The elevator doesn’t work,” he began, ticking off points on the fingers of his left hand. “There is damp in the walls, and probably mould spores in the apartment. The fire exit was blocked by a couch someone hasn’t bothered to take to the dump. The fire escape itself is rusted through and looks as though it’d collapse if anyone stepped on it. Your toilet is leaking, the shower is about to fall apart, and I suspect the appliances haven’t been checked in years. This whole place is a tragic fucking news story waiting to happen!”

“It’s all I could afford!” she shouted.

“Well, things have changed, haven’t they?” he said bluntly. “I have an empty apartment I can give you. Pack your things. You’re moving out tonight.”

“I don’t want your charity!” she said mutinously, knowing she was being unreasonable, and not caring.

“It’s not charity, it’s common sense!” he snapped. “If you want to kill yourself that’s your affair, but you won’t endanger my child, do you hear me?”

“Oh, so you are admitting it’s yours now?” she demanded. “Funny, I thought you had doubts in that area.”

“Are you telling me otherwise?”

“Of course not!”

“Then perhaps we can get past this tedious animosity and at least get you into a safe place,” he said coldly. “Or are you too stubborn to accept my help?”

“I didn’t ask for your help!”

He raised his chin a little, his jaw set. He was angry, and trying not to show it. She knew he was capable of deep emotion, that there was a boiling tide of rage inside him that threatened to rise up and drown the pair of them. She had seen him unleash it only once before, the night their baby had been made. It made her want to poke at him, to push until she got some sort of reaction, some indication that he was still a human being who lived and breathed and felt.

“I don’t want your help!” she added, glaring at him.

Gold pursed his lips, flexing his fingers on the handle of his cane as he seemed to swallow his anger down and snuff it out.

“Then I know how to proceed, don’t I?” he said, his voice deadly calm.

“What does that mean?”

“Simple,” he said. “It means that the life you are living poses a risk that someone will call me one day to tell me our child is dead. It means that you clearly have no intention of putting its best interests before your own foolish pride. It means, my dear, that I will sue for full custody.”

Belle felt her mouth fall open, a finger of ice sliding down her back as the worst of all her fears was spoken to the air and given life.

“You’d - you’d take my baby?” she whispered, horrified.

“Our baby,” he corrected. “And if you can’t satisfy me that you’d care for it sufficiently when not in my presence, then yes. Without question. Without remorse.”

He was watching her impassively, his eyes flat and black, and she shook her head vigorously.

“You can’t do that!”

“Oh, you know I can,” he growled, and for a moment his eyes flashed, hinting at the fury she knew he kept buried deep. “Just fucking try me.”

Belle shook her head again, pressing her hands over her belly protectively, and he nodded curtly and stepped back.

“You’ll be hearing from my lawyer,” he said, striding to the door.

“No, wait!”

She had reached out to him, and he turned slowly to face her. Belle swallowed hard, hating that she had let him back her into a corner. Hating that he was right.

“Okay,” she said. “Okay, I’ll - I’ll take the apartment.”

“Good,” he said quietly. “That wasn’t so difficult, was it?”

Belle glowered at him, but he merely nodded.

“Be ready in three hours with whatever you need to get through the next few days,” he said. “I’ll send a team to collect the rest of your things later. Don’t bother cleaning the place up.” He ran his eyes over the room, and curled his lip. “Just carry on as you have been, in other words.”

She wanted to grind her teeth.

“I’ll pick you up at ten,” he added, and wrenched open the door, striding out and taking the last of her self-respect with him.

x

Belle used the three hours he had given her to wash and dry a load of laundry, leaving it running in the laundry room while she packed the rest of her things. At least she would be able to change out of her drenched outfit and into something clean. She packed up her laptop and college books, an overnight bag with toiletries, makeup and accessories, and a few novels. Once the laundry was dry, she packed it into another case before stripping off her now damp clothing and changing it for thick tights and a soft grey jersey dress over the top.

His threat to take the baby had terrified her, her worst fears coming to life before her eyes and delivered in the same calm, measured tone he used to order coffee. She knew he would follow through on his threats, if it came to it, and she hated that she was dependent on him, that she needed his help.

For a moment it was all too much, and she sat down on the battered couch with a thump, burying her face in her hands and breathing deeply. It was that or cry, and she was determined not to give him the satisfaction of seeing she had wept more tears over him. It wasn’t as though he had ever cried over her, after all. He didn’t care about her beyond the fact that she was carrying his child. She wished she had never told him. Would it have been so terrible to raise the baby alone?

Guess I’ll never know, she thought despondently. God, I’m tied to him forever. Tied to a man who doesn’t give a crap about me. Great job, Belle. Great job at ruining your life.

She sat forward, wrapping her arms around her growing belly and hugging as she rocked back and forth. The past was done, and there was no undoing it. It was unfair to keep her child from its father, and she had more important things to worry about than her own broken heart. At least it seemed like Gold wanted to be involved in raising the baby. She wondered what sort of father he would be. Would he be cold and distant? Would he be indulgent and shower the child with presents when it was his turn to care for it, making her look mean and strict by comparison? She wasn’t sure either of those personas made sense for him, but then she had never seen him interact with children. For all she knew he couldn’t stand them, and was only back in her life because he never saw a right of his he didn’t want to enforce.

Still, at least their child would have a father, she supposed. She had been disowned by hers as soon as she insisted on keeping the baby, although she thought that Moe would come around in time. Perhaps once the baby was born. He would want to get to know his grandchild, surely? She wondered what Gold’s childhood had been like, whether he had family out there somewhere, and realised she had no idea. She knew almost nothing about him, except that he was rich and solitary and way better in bed than he had any right to be. What basis was that for a relationship? What basis was that for anything?

Thinking about it was depressing, and so she sat up, running her hands over her face and getting to her feet. It was almost ten, and he would be right on time: he always was. She glanced around herself, checking that she had everything she needed. A knock at the door made her heart sink, but she squared her shoulders, pulled on her coat, hat and scarf and shouldered her overnight bag.

Gold had the same flat, impassive look on his face when she opened the door. She wondered what he had been up to for the past three hours, and decided she didn’t care. He nodded to the bag on her shoulder.

“Is that all you’re bringing?”

“Oh - no, I have a case.”

“I’ll take that.”

She let him step past her and grab the case on wheels, and she picked up her laptop bag and purse, waiting for him to stride out before locking the door behind them.

They went down the stairs in silence, and she glowered at his back as he sauntered out of the building. His old black Cadillac was parked on the street, looking very out of place, and she let him take the bags from her and stow them in the trunk before getting into the passenger seat. Gold got in on his side, shutting the car door with a thump that made her start, and pulling away without a word.

The silence between them was heavy and uncomfortable. Belle didn’t know what to say, her heart still full of pain and anger from the threats he had made, and so she stared out of the window so she didn’t have to look at him. It was strange being in the car again, and she was reminded of the hours she had spent there in happier times, when he had driven her out to the cabin with his hand on her thigh and his fingers stroking her bare skin. She chanced a look at him, eyes dropping to where his hand rested on the gear lever, the old ring gleaming in the pale glow of the streetlights. The tendons in his hand tugged and pulled as he changed gear, and she felt a lurch in her belly as she remembered the pleasure of his touch. She looked out of the window again.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked.

“I own several apartments in the city,” he said stiffly. “One of them happens to have been vacated recently, and is ready to move into. It’s closer to the university.”

“Oh.”

He didn’t expand, and she didn’t feel like asking him anything further. It wasn’t as though she had a choice in where she would live.

They passed into a more affluent area of the city, the apartment blocks on tree-lined avenues, alongside cafes and small independent shops. Gold eventually pulled up outside a five storey building with gleaming stone steps and shining glass doors with the number 112 in large gilt letters. He got out, walking around to open the door for Belle and offering a hand to pull her to her feet. Even when he was being a bastard he never forgot his manners, she had to give him that. He took her case from the trunk, handing the laptop bag to her, and nodded to the door.

“Let’s go, then.”

As soon as Belle entered the lobby, she was made very aware of how different Gold’s apartment would likely be compared to her old one. There was a shining wooden desk in one corner, and a concierge in a crisp suit. He had grey hair and a neat beard, and gave them a warm smile, his eyes twinkling.

“Good evening, Mr Gold,” he said, his voice accented and a little gravelly. “The apartment is ready. My boy August took up the groceries, and has assured me that the hot water is working.”

“Thank you, Marco.” Gold gestured at Belle. “This is Miss French. Please give her whatever she requires.”

“Of course, of course!” Marco’s eyes merely flicked to Belle’s belly and back up again, but it still made her want to sigh. “Whatever she needs.”

“Thank you. Miss French?”

Gold walked towards the elevators, and Belle squared her jaw as she followed him. He pressed the button for the top floor, and the elevator doors closed with a gentle thump.

“Stop calling me that,” she said, and his eyes flicked towards her.

“What?”

“Miss French,” she said sourly. “I have a name. You’ve used it. You’ve shouted it while fucking me in your bed enough times, we’re not exactly strangers.”

“We’re not exactly friends, either.”

“Do you even have friends?”

He was silent, and she smirked to herself, feeling as though she had scored a point. She imagined there would be few enough of those in the months ahead, so she would take her small victories where she could.

The elevator stopped with a soft ping, the doors opening to reveal a wide, well-lit corridor carpeted in dark grey, the walls a lighter grey edged with white. Gold led her to the door at the end, reaching into the pocket of his overcoat for a key and letting her inside without a word. Belle wandered in, blinking as he flicked on the lights. The apartment was larger than the whole of her father’s house in Storybrooke, the lounge area spacious, surrounded by high windows hung with soft grey curtains. Wooden floors ran throughout, with thick rugs over the top in muted shades of white and grey. A leather corner couch and chair surrounded a glass coffee table, a flat-screen TV on the wall. The kitchen contained shining appliances, a large fridge that made its own ice cubes, and a waste disposal in the sink. There was a dining area with a table to seat six, and going to the windows, Belle could see that it looked out on the park. She imagined it would be beautiful on a sunny day.

“There are three bedrooms,” said Gold, from behind her. “I had them get in some groceries. Have you eaten?”

She shook her head.

“Do you want me to make you something?”

“No, I’ll do it myself.”

“As you wish.”

She put her bag on the table, heading for the bathroom. A glass and chrome cube held the shower, and there was a white porcelain bath next to it. The thought of having a bubble bath was heavenly, but she merely nodded to Gold when she came back out.

“It’s fine,” she said listlessly.

“Well, it’s yours.”

“Thank you.”

Her tone was flat as she took the keys from him, and he nodded, his jaw working a little as his fingers opened and closed on the handle of his cane.

“We obviously need to have a serious conversation about the future,” he said. “But I think we’re both too angry right now.”

“I think I’m entitled.”

“As am I,” he said coldly. “So I suggest we try to get over it and talk tomorrow, agreed?”

“I have class.”

“Then I shall return in the evening.”

“I have work.”

His jaw tightened.

“You can’t avoid me forever, Belle.”

“I’m not trying to…”

“And do you really think you should be working in your condition?”

“I’m pregnant, I’m not sick!” she snapped. “And I need the money!”

“No, you don’t,” he said shortly. “Not anymore. But perhaps that’s something to discuss tomorrow.”

“Fine,” she sighed, a wave of tiredness washing over her. “Fine. Eight o’clock?”

“Eight o’clock.”

He nodded curtly, and turned on his heel, heading for the door. Belle licked her lips.

“Did you mean it?” she asked, and he paused with his back to her.

“What?”

“That you’d take the baby?”

Gold turned slowly to face her.

“Yes,” he said quietly. “If I had to. But I’d prefer not to, if that’s any comfort. A child should know its parents, don’t you think?”

Belle swallowed.

“Yes.”

“All the more reason for us to come to a satisfactory agreement, then, wouldn’t you say?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

There was silence. She couldn’t think of how to fill it, and so she looked at the keys in her hand, two pieces of bright steel on a brass fob with a square tag.

“Until tomorrow, then,” he said, and she heard him go, leaving nothing but a heavy atmosphere and the brooding aftermath of hurt and anger to mix with her own.

[sunstrand-archive]

Quietly boops my url here

HAPPY MUNDAY, GIMME YOUR URLS | ACCEPTING

My Opinion on;

Character in general: SCREECHES TO THE HEAVENS: I FUCKING LOVE SAKURA!!!! The minute I saw her I knew I was gonna play the shit out of Birthright. I love her. She’s so good, so pure, but so strong and steadfast! she is shy but her shyness does not make her weak, and in fact it makes her stronger as she grows with it, which makes me ecstatic because shy/introverted characters are always seen as weak or meek but NOT SAKURA not this girl who is brighter than the fucking sun I love her she’s one of my absolute faves next to Nishiki…also we share the same birthday so I may or may not be extRA BIASED :)))How they play them: HELLO LUNA THIS IS A PSA I love your Sakura!! I love the way you play her. She is shy, still, but bright?? She can stand her ground? She’s polite? She knows her way around? She’s not just the weak little sister, she is THE sister that will support everyone and knock them down at the same time. Like Tsubaki and Kazahana are fighting? SAKURA COMES IN AND STOPS THEM and she’s so good I love your writing and your interpretation, basically.The Mun: HI we talk sometimes and mostly meme and scream at each other but I truly adore you!! I think you’re really cute and?? boy are you HILARIOUS it’s like a breath of fresh air with you, but we should definitely talk more than we do now!!

Do I:

RP with them: YOU KNOW I THINK SO I send the occasional ask and vice versa, I also wrote a starter which I will remind you to take your time with bc I know life is busy,,,but in short, yes we rp with each other.Want to RP with them:  ALL THE TIME I love those Nishiki & Sakura interactions…bc it’s like two of my faves just being together and being MY FAVES…

What is my;

Overall Opinion: like roseate sun and shine / a perfect princess i wish were mine / but doesn’t the one behind the royal know? / that they are just as adorable 

**Note: Mun’s answer are all to be completely honest. Don’t send url if you don’t want brutal honesty

[raindrenchedstories]

Discovery. (The happiest thing AU)

He’d stayed in the tunnel for hours. Alas, Otis still hadn’t figured out whether or not the letter was just a fabrication. He ran his thumbs over the smooth parchment for a good minute. Just staring at it.

At the end of the day, it didn’t matter. If he chose to believe it, he lived with the one giant who’d fought for humans as a whole. Not hard enough though. His own scarred form was proof enough of that.

If he didn’t choose to believe it? He was the punchline of a sick joke. Albeit, a knowing punchline. That actually made things a little better, knowing that he’d be laughing as well, come the end of the day.

There was only once constant in this messed up situation. He was a stranger in a dead mans home. Awaiting an uncertain fate with a giant who either meant well, or didn’t. In other words, basically the best he could hope for after an adoption.

Stealing himself, he popped the top of the tunnel open and pulled himself out. Making his way slowly across the enclosure. It was...So big. So overwhelming. He’d only had a small space to wander in the shelter, even smaller before that.

Otis paused halfway, wondering how the last tenant could even register it. Despite the size of the enclosure, it just seamed like a barren blue wasteland. “How’d he stand it?” Otis shook his head.

“Oh, it was a little better decorated back then.” Jumping back, Otis’ head swiveled around attempting to spot the titanic menace. Upon doing so, he froze. Not far off, the giant was taking broken sips of tea. Spooning a little out into a tiny, human sized cup.

He brought this over and set it near Otis, the man just glared at the small bit of stoneware with uncertainty. "Don’t worry. It’s not drugged.” The giant laughed, taking another sip as though that proved anything. “Just habit.”

He folded his arms, glaring away from the giants position. He couldn’t say anything, do anything. Hell all he wanted to do was cower in the tunnels for another hour.

“Gods. I can take the cursing, just please say something.” The giant leaned on is arm, staring down at Otis with an unreadable emotion he’d never seen. Otis’ only reaction was to back peddle, wide eyed.

He coughed weakly, trying to muster his fear into anger. “Something.” He spat, fully turning his back.

The giant simply laughed, sort of. “You’re...Not the same as him. I don’t know how to feel about that.”

“Well tough. I’m not planning on changing.” Gods someone shut him up! If Otis kept up this impertinent air he, could end up a bloody smear. However, instead of getting angry, the giant just snickered.

A finger ruffled Otis’ shoulder, causing him to spit and sputter away. “I don’t expect you to. That said... I’m thinking of adding a few structures around. What do you think? Kind of a peaceful meadow look I’m thinking.”

He waved his tea around the room that made up the enclosure. Otis just eyed it with concern. Apparently his expression was quite readable. “Nah. Now that I think of it, a man of your background probably doesn’t like open spaces.”

Otis jerked away, grimacing. “Wh-”

“Hmm. But I don’t feel right keepin’ you all cooped up in a little box.” The giant pulled a series of papers from a small drawer on the enclosure. Something seamed to draw his eyes a moment, but it was brief.

“So, do you like making things?” Otis was pinned. Confusion overriding all his senses.

“I-I don’t know.” He admitted. Kicking at the padded surface. A pencil tapped his legs a moment, causing him to lurch back.

“Please don’t mess up the mats. They’re a mess to install.” He returned to his sketching with little concern.

“Out of all I’ve done and said, you’re upset about the damn mats?” Otis blurted out, swiftly covering his mouth before evolving into a stream of curses. Was he suicidal? Bringing misbehavior to a giants attention? ON HIMSELF?!

The giant seamed unfazed. “In all reality Otis, you haven’t really done anything wrong. You swore at me a few times, kicked my hand and slapped it. But I honestly didn’t even feel it. Right now, you’re probably feeling overwhelmed, tired, and unsure. Not a great mixture.”

He began to turn away. Slowly wandering off. “I don’t expect you’re going to like me the moment you get through the door. Richter sure as hell didn’t.”

“What ever.” Otis made his way towards the small shelter. He angerly kicked away the ball he’d been sleeping on with a huff. The moment he entered the home, he froze up. 

Asside from his back wall being painted delicately with delicate murals, he also found small photographs. And yet another letter. This one addressed to “new guy” From some sort of “Neil.” Otis picked that up, with a huff.

“Now what?” He opened the letter. It was surprisingly brief. But interesting.

Kid. Cleaned up as best I could. But I left a few of Rick’s pictures up. I think you ought to know what the guy looked like. Not the image the press gave you, but what we knew of him. Neil.

Glancing over the photos, Otis locked up. There he was. The kindly, bright face of Richter. The one he’d seen in the pictures. The one he’d grown up wondering about. Only, it was displeased, and wearing bunny ears. AND sitting surrounded by other humans laughing. Two giants making up the background.

Bear, and the earth giant from earlier. His shoulders dropped, his hands rubbed feverishly over his skull. That...was HIM. And the giant outside... And the letter. He pulled Richters letter from his pocket, holding it up. “I...Don’t...Believe it.”

[invokingbees]

So, I finally got to play Lichdom: Battlemage, hereafter referred to probably as “wizard game”, after like two years of praying for a console port because it was a fuckken WIZARD GAME where you’re a WIZARD, no mana bars, no melee, none of that pansy mortal bollocks. I was very excited! And boy did it get a port, it was notoriously shit because the framerate rarely rose above 12fps on the Xbone and PS4, until the devs put out a patch to fix both versions! Xbone’s runs at a capped, apparently very solid 30fps, but the PS4′s framerate is uncapped, flitting from anywhere from 60fps to 24fps depending on how much bullshit’s on-screen. Regardless, it’s actually playable.

Shame it isn’t fun to play.

Read more if you’d like, because boy do I have hot opinions.

I’ve played for about two or so hours now, so these are first impressions, but they aren’t pretty. Small bugs aside, like unvoiced dialogue in subtitles, the snow filter disappearing when you look right or left too quick (I’m sure there a technical term like vertical desync or whatever), it’s actually kind of just shit. Not hugely shit, just...yeah. It can be summed up as feeling like a somewhat extensive, partly unfinished Skyrim mod. I know that’s harsh, but let me explain some more. Here are my issues, one by one, in no particular order:

It’s really un-intuitive. The game makes much of itself telling you about its ‘custom menu’ and how you really need a good grasp of the systems and mechnaics to succeed! The game throws around tutorial videos and tips for a whole bunch of shit crammed in at the very start (I’d like to mention that the ice magic in the vieo is not the same as what I got in-game), as well peppering these tutorials with unexplained terminology like Mastery Consumption, Synergies, Apocalyptics, a bunch of spell crafting shit, and expects you to just sort of roll with and understand. Now, there is a journal filled with all these words and phrases, but unfortunately that’s a whole problem unto itself.

The menus are garbage. There’s no way of getting around it, they’re fucking terrible, unresponsive sometimes, other times wildly sensitive. I’ve caught myself thinking ‘this has a mind of its own’ when trying to select a fire sigil thing on the fancypants Custom Menu, because I just could not navigate to the thing. It’s not helped by the fact the various stats and percentages and extra effects listed on various screens are almost literally unreadably small. I’m talking Dead Rising 1 unreadable. As a guy with really bad vision and two large abdominal wounds, having to scrunch up to the TV just to read what I’m crafting does not help the situation. I can’t for the absolute life of me figure what I have equipped half the time due to the largely static nature of the menus themselves. Not that I need bright pop up messages and particle effects for every action, but the game desperately needs far clearer indications of what you’re doing, and a better way to do them. The menus hurt an they’re half of the game.

And here’s the kicker, lads, the other half of the game, the combat, is almost as painful. It’s slow, repetitive, and really is the part that makes me feel like I’m playing some amateur’s ambitious Skyrim mod they left in a mess. You start with a fire sigil, giving you a fireball, a shield that can deflect attacks and a small AoE spell. And that goes for every sigil - basic attack, shield, big attack. Some sigils (or fuck it, just elements, same idea here) have different effects and uses. Fire just hurts, ice slows, lightning chains and paralyzes, kinesis...also slows? There’s others but I haven’t seen them yet. But all of this just feels so stiff, it isn’t satisfying to land a charged fireball on a skeleton or assassin, and some attacks, I haven’t a clue what they’re supposed to do. The Lightning Sigil’s AoE stores damage or something, but it feels useless because no one’s around to tell me what the fuck it’s meant to be used for. My biggest issue with the combat, apart from the limp-dicked sensation of it all, is that at no point did I ever feel like I should be using anything other than fire AoE’s. Ice’s freezing lasts all of two seconds and doesn’t hurt, Kinesis only sometimes feels like it works, and Lightning, which should be UNLIMITED POWER, is just a blue fireball that sometimes hits two guys. In a game about slinging around cosmic energies as a big fucking revenge wizard, it needs to look impressive. But it’s so fucking slow, man. There’s no fluidity to the combat. I only ever want to use the same AoE over and over.

As for the world and characters and dialogue, I’ve seen relatively little, but what I’ve seen isn’t encouraging. The dialogue is all very cool and mature and quippy, everyone at least comes off as complete cardboard and your mysterious helper wizard so fucking clearly has his own agenda I’m surprised he didn’t just come out and say it at the beginning. There isn’t a single stand-out feature to anything I’ve seen. The fantasy element seems all very modern-day by the books, no fun or interesting spins on anything at least not yet.

Alas, it seems the search for a true wizard game goes on. Thank God Almighty I only paid €7.99 for this.

[extradreamy]

Departure Gate 16

When you left this town, with your windows down//And the wilderness inside ~ Angela//The Lumineers (Because every adventure should have a soundtrack, or in this case every blog post should have a song that accompanies and inspires it)

Let’s jump right into it, lovelies! Here’s the first blog post for my study abroad programme, concentrating on the final few days before I leave. It’s Sunday 10th September, 2017. Time: 9:12pm (I’m an early to bed kind of gal lol). I spent all morning packing my suitcase and debating whether I should take my pink dress (I decided not to), if I would need another jumper (Yes! You can never have too many jumpers in my opinion), and how many thermals were too many (Answer: *Cady from mean girls voice* The limit does not exist!). I had written down a packing list to follow but, alas, I am the worst at following my own advice. Knowing my luck I have packed too much of one thing, and not enough of something else. Either way, I’m headed to Manchester, so whatever I need I know the great city will have it once I arrive, so at least I know the city can save my ass if need be lmao. 

It is beginning to feel very real. I thought it was feeling real when my visa finally arrived a few weeks back, but that was nothing compared to what I’m feeling right now. I’m beginning to mentally prepare myself for what’s to come: The saying goodbye to family, the solo trip halfway across the world (I am freaking out about finding my way through Dubai airport to my connecting flight to Manchester, honestly atm this is my number one anxiety), and the settling into Manchester and my dorm room. Even writing these things down is making me realize that this is happening and I am leaving New Zealand, my home, my friends, my family, in three days! And I won’t be seeing them for almost six months! This is excitingly scary! And even though the nerves are kicking in and I am suddenly realizing the reality of this exchange, I honestly cannot wait to board that plane and arrive in the UK. 14 year old me is ready, and so is 19 year old me. I think I’ve grown too big for this small town, and while Auckland city is great, the travel bug has been biting my ankle raw for almost two years now. At least with this exchange programme I’ll be killing two birds with one stone (study and travel, woo!) So I think I’m ready. To quote Oh Wonder, “I’m ready to go.”

It’s pretty much the same time as yesterday, just 24 hours later. It’s Monday 11th September and this is my last night in my bed, which is in my room, in my home. I thought I would be sadder, knowing that my black-walled room is going to be empty of human presence for six months. The fairy lights won’t light up for six months. The books sitting on the refurbished church pew will probably go unread for ages. My darling Pop Up Globe posters will go unadmired until I return. However, I feel as though this is just like any other night. I’ll go to sleep, wake up the next morning, go about my usual, slightly mundane day. But that’s not true. This is my last night. Next time I’m back here in my room (which is pretty much a shrine to my teenagehood with a dash of my adulting BA lifestyle) it’ll be a new year and I will no longer be a teenager (I’m turning 20 in a foreign country wtf!!!). I wonder how much I would’ve changed once I get back. I wonder if I’ll redecorate my room when I return. Maybe I’ll marvel at it for a bit and try to remember what kind of person I was six months earlier, before I ever knew what traveling was. If I do change, I hope it’s for the better. And I hope I will still love my black walls when I return (if I don’t then I’ve obviously changed for the worst lmao). 

I woke up at 5am and wasn’t able to fall back to sleep. I think my anxiety is getting to me now. Today was so strange; it went by really quickly and yet at the same time it felt so damn s l o w (put that down to my tiredness). I said goodbye to my home, said goodbye to my two grandfathers, and now I am saying au revoir to my last night in New Zealand. I forgot how much I love the city, especially this city. Yeah it’s got its flaws (so damn expensive, also the housing crisis is legit), but I am beginning to see it as home. My teenage to adult transitional home, I guess. It’s lovely being able to walk around the city where people don’t know anything about you (can’t do that in a small town). Maybe this sounds stupid, but it kinda makes me feel mysterious and able to do anything. I guess this means that I might be able to take Manchester on. Here’s hoping! But I’ll be honest, I’m missing my parents already (and they’re in the same room as me). Tomorrow will probably break me when I have to say goodbye, but I’ll be rebuilt again in the UK, and I’m looking forward to that.

My mum started crying before we had breakfast and she’s taking every opportunity to hold my hand and give me hugs. I’ve decided I’m not gonna cry in front of her because I know that’ll just turn her into a huge mess. I’ll save my tears for later.

At the airport feeling like I'm gonna throw up. The anxiety is real, resulting in a steadily shitty writing style (as you could probably tell). My baggage is checked in, my stomach filled with miso soup, my heart heavy with having to say goodbye. Also I'm worried about the plane ride (my fear of flying from when I was a child hasn't fully left me, plus I'm worried I'll get lost in Dubai airport - knowing me, I probably will).

Dear past me, It’s Friday 15th September. You didn’t get lost in Dubai airport, thank God. You shouldn’t have worn the woollen socks, it’s not as cold as you think at the moment (also woollen socks in Dubai? You dumbass lmao). You were right about how saying goodbye would break you, and congrats for not crying in front of your mum. You saved it until you had just turned the corner out of your parents sight. Also, get used to the anxiety for a little while. Things won’t seem normal until uni starts and you have a proper schedule in your life again. 

But you did it. You’re in Manchester, baby. 

~Michaella 

[miraculous-dnd]

Insight Chapter 2

A miraculous ladybug D&D!AU  Words: 3552 Rating: Teen for mild language Summary: Between sessions the group finds time to catch up outside of D&D. 

Marinette slept late the next morning, it was Saturday and she didn’t have to go into work that morning. She walked into the office around 10 anyways though, one of the designs that she had been working on calling to her. The office was quiet, Sylvia apparently taking her day off seriously, so Marinette put on some music and got to work. Around 1 she was interrupted by a buzz from her phone:

Adrien: Hey

Marinette: What's up

Adrien: You free today?

Marinette's heart raced, despite herself

Marinette: Yeah, just finishing up some work, what did you have in mind?

Adrien: Well I was in the neighborhood and I was wondering if you wanted to grab a late lunch, or maybe some coffee, if you've already eaten?

Adrien: Maybe we could talk D&D?

Marinette: Yeah, that sounds great.

She sent him the address of the office,

Marinette: Meet me here @1:30?

Adrien: sounds like a plan!

Marinette dropped the phone on the drafting table and took a deep breath. She let the excitement run its course, Adrien wanted to catch up and grab coffee. This was normal, right? They were in a D&D group together, they were in the same industry (though the lowest ranking Gabriel designer could probably buy out Coccinelle without breaking a sweat and Adrien was on the damn board of directors), they had plenty in common, they could go for a normal lunch between friends.

Ok, maybe the grade school crush wasn't so past tense. She tried to shift her focus back onto the designs in front of her, but she kept being dragged back by the silky cat's purr of Adrien's Rogue voice.

That's only a little weird. Right?

Adrien walked up in front of the small shop front of Marinette's and smiled, it definitely had her touch. He opened the door and walked in, the building seemed to be quiet, but he could see a light coming from the back. He walked towards it, taking care to go a little louder than natural, so as not to frighten.

She was sitting on a stool, half-finished sketch on the drafting table in front of her. Her hands were on her chin and her eyes were a thousand miles away.

Adrien cleared his throat, "Marinette? Did you still want to get lunch?"

She startled a bit, "Oh, Adrien, I didn't hear you come in. Sorry. Yes. Lunch, that is, yes I still want to go to lunch."

"I'm glad, I had started looking forward to it."

"oh." Marinette tried, very hard, to find something slightly more articulate to say, but alas.

"There's a deli around the corner, they have good vegetarian food." he pauses for a second, "are you still a vegetarian?"

"Yeah. Well, most of the time, I'll make exceptions for special occasions. But vegetarian deli sounds good, uh, let me just pack up a bit." She hurriedly packs away her sketches and slings a small ladybug purse over her shoulder. She beams up at him, toothy grin wide.

oh.

The deli wasn't very far away, and Marinette and Adrien sat on a bench outside to enjoy their sandwiches. They sat in silence a while, sandwiches an excuse for the awkward silence coming from the fact that neither of them had really talked to the other, outside of D&D in, well, a couple of years now. Adrien broke the silence first.

"So how is work going? Your shop seems like a lot is happening."

"Ha. That's a very polite way of saying the shop looks a mess."

"No, I mean-"

"It's alright, I know the shop's a mess, It's probably a good thing anyways, it means we're busy. Which is pretty much also how work is going; designing is what I always wanted to do, and I love it, but the business side is a lot of work when it is going well, and even more work when it's going poorly, but I guess that's the price I pay for living my childhood dreams"

Adrien felt a small pang of envy, to be able to pursue a passion, to have a clear idea of what your passions were, it must be nice.

"That sounds stressful, but I'm still kind of jealous, working at Gabriel is kind of soul-sucking. Like, I'm not ungrateful for what my dad left for me, it's just- I don't know, I didn't have a lot of time as a kid to have my own dreams, I had a path laid out for me, you know?"

"I never thought about that, you were a bit, wrangled as a kid weren't you?"

"I don't think I've had an unscheduled period longer than three days since I was, well, maybe ever."

"Yikes, that sounds not great"

"Yeah, it is what it is. Marcel is- he's Marcel, but he means well." Marinette raised her eyebrows a hair.

"Marcel, as in Marcel Proust, the man who, to hear half the fashion rags tell it, is slowly sucking the soul out of the Gabriel brand?"

"He doesn't have the most sparkling personality, that's true, but he is trying, my father and him, they were friends, or as close as my father got to having friends. Marcel just wants to honor his memory."

"I'm sorry Adrien, I'm sure Marcel means well, it's just, he's been with Gabriel for how long now? 15 years? 20? In an interview last week he had no idea what Toilé was."

"Yeah, he hasn't invested much in the theory, but he has a handle on the nitty-gritty of running a corporation."

Maybe too much of a handle, Adrien thought.

They sat quietly for a while, before Marinette spoke,

"So, how about the game last night? That was quite the fight huh?"

"Yeah, I'm super pumped to get to use my new item, it seems pretty versatile."

"Yeah, I don't know about mine, i'll take a hit to AC, but it bumps up my whip's range and damage, so that's pretty sweet."

"The card says tier 1 on it though, so we've probably got to unlock the really cool pieces."

"Yeah, I wonder how high they go, like, what is the max tier do you think?"

Alya is in her favorite spot, next to the window in her regular cafe, looking down over the main part of the shop on the level below, the additional seating area quiet by comparison.  The word document in front of her sits, almost done, but not quite, the blinking cursor mocking her as she struggles to wrap up the story she has been writing. The political scene has become bleaker since she became a politics reporter, when she was young she had felt like there were heroes, people making real change, people caring for people and about process. Now though, well, every hero has their dirt, and Alya had made a career finding that dirt, which made the idea of a spotless hero something that Alya reserved for fiction.

Oh well, she still has two hours until deadline. She tabs over to her email, hitting the refresh and watching as a wave of unread messages cascades down her inbox.

Junk. Junk. Deal with that later. Junk. Junk.

Her eyes scan down the list of subjects and from addresses, until she hits a subject line that she can't ignore.

RE: Hawke

Alya clicked. Her eyes widened as the message appeared before them. This was big.

Their coffee date/outing/catch-up session/whatever-you're-supposed-to-call-it over Marinette was back in her office, back in the zone, her pen putting the finishing touches on the design that she had been working on earlier when her phone buzzed again. Marinette grabbed the phone eagerly,

Alya: Hey, you got a minute?

Marinette: Yeah, just doing a bit of weekend work, what's up?

Alya: I'm looking for advice, but I gotta be a bit vague, you down?

Marinette: Its for a story, isn't it

Alya: Yeah, anyway if you found out that someone in your industry was in the pocket of a certain, politician, and you could expose them, what would you do?

Marinette: Shit. Um, give me a minute to think

Marinette: I mean, I'd call you, obvs.

Marinette: I take it calling them out isn't going to make you very popular?

Alya: I mean, they've got a couple of fans, if you catch my drift.

Alya: I'm nervous enough about it to come to you for advice, if that says anything.

Marinette: Ha. Yeah.

Marinette: Well, I don't know, is there a hard time limit on this?

Alya: Not really, there's a couple of months before it's really relevant.

Marinette: Maybe you could just make a draft then, and see how you feel?

Alya: Good plan. How's this weekend looking? are you down for another session?

Marinette: Ooh, we've got a big order going out on Friday, but Saturday or Sunday ought to work!

Alya: Good to hear! I'll get in touch with everyone else, see how they feel. <3<3

Marinette put the phone down, then picked it up again and checked the time, it was almost 8, her stomach rumbled. Looks like another night of takeout.

Adrien was not a fan of Mondays. Working for Gabriel was... stressful, in the most boring way. Marcel was a controlling CFO and Adrien still wasn't entirely comfortable in the executive role that had been created for him after his father's death. It felt like the right thing to do though, and fashion was something that Adrien knew a lot about, so he did alright with that part of it, but bringing himself to care about the gross market returns on the spring line Tokyo marking campaign was next to impossible.

He had some time before his presentation to the board, so he closed the document, in a pinch he could wing it pretty well. He pulled open another document on his browser, and scanned down what he had already written.

"The Life and Times of Pollux Blackvein"

Raised by his aunt and uncle, Pollux spent most of his time as a child avoiding responsibilities, finding places to hide. There was little he loved more than to find a rooftop or shaded alcove from which he could people watch in peace. He created rich fictions in his head. This period of happiness could not last long however and tragedy soon struck again when a illness took both his living relatives. With nothing to keep him in the small town that was all he had known, he fled into the woods only days after his 16th birthday.

In the woods he found the hut of a old hermit, who took him in and gave him a place to stay as he mourned the life that he had left behind. When he had recovered the hermit began to train him, teaching him how to survive in the wild, how to hide and how to move silently. It was the old man that taught Pollux how to fight, and Pollux took to the quarterstaff quickly, favoring knives second. When the hermit had taught him enough, Pollux left his home for a second time, returning to the village that raised him.

When he arrived he found that the village was in a desperate condition. The Magistrate Vitaa Douleur had been installed in the town since he had left and was in gross abuse of her position, levying cruel taxes and enforcing laws that had gone untouched for good reason. The abuse of power made Pollux furious, so he began to formulate a resistance. He started small, disrupting the couriers that Vitaa dispatched to other cities, stealing small shipments of coin and distributing it, subtly, to the people of the town. When this caused her to double down on the oppression of his town, Pollux began to sow the seeds of violent rebellion. The rebellion was, ultimately, successful but it was a Pyrrhic victory. At the end Pollux stood over the body of Vitaa Douleur drenched in the blood of friend and foe alike, the assault on the manse leaving only Pollux standing, after searching the manse for any clue as to who was responsible for her installment in his town he burned down the manse and fled town that night. In that part of the country, stories are still told about the rebellion of Greenthorp, and the mysterious figure that led the people against the tyrannical ruler, but they are stories that Pollux has never heard, having fled to the capitol in search of the mysterious figure that sent the scourge to his people.

Since arriving in Erathia, Pollux has fallen in love with its people, and he is already beginning to chaff at the way that the nobility (or at least some of them) take advantage of them. He has made few friends in Erathia, finding the thieves too unscrupulous and the revolutionaries too lax and inactive. He is a radical living in a city of moderates.

-

Adrien sat there and let the cursor flash at the end of the document, he felt like there was something missing, maybe he needed more characters? Should he maybe soften Pollux's stance on nobility, since Marinette and Chloe were both playing nobles? He should have sent this to Alya like, two months ago, so maybe he shouldn't worry about it. He really wanted Alya to like it though, so maybe he should. What he needed was another set of eyes.

Adrien: Hey, you got a minute?

Max: Not really, but I need a break, what’s up?

Adrien: Not much, I was just hoping I could get you to look over my character background before I sent it to my DM, if you're busy I'll ask someone else.

Max: This is for Alya's campaign?

Adrien: Yeah

Max: Send it here, I need something to pull me away from work anyways.

-

Max: Nice, it looks good, I'd say you could send it to her as is, maybe add a couple of names of people from the town?

Friday night found Alya sitting in the workspace in her apartment, DM guide and monster manual open on the table in front of her, spreadsheet open on her computer. Tomorrow night was going to be epic, they were finally going to get into the meat of the arc that she had prepared. She just needed to find the right encounter to really bring home the scale of what they were supposed to be doing. She flipped the pages of the manual, looking for inspiration.

Myconid, Nothic, Ogre, nah.

Nothing had quite the feel that Alya was looking for. Then an illustration caught her eye. She started typing:

Horrificator: AC - 8, HP - 72, Speed 15 ft.

Nino woke up to the warm sunlight coming in through the window, and to the persistent buzz of his phone. He picked it up and looked at it groggily. "Reminder: Working Bibliography Due @ Noon today."

Shit.

Nino stumbled out of bed and pulled open his laptop. 10:00, two hours, that was probably enough time to shit together some sources, he could always go back later and decide not to use any of them. That's what he'd done in undergrad, 9 times out of 10. Just as he was opening the library page his phone buzzed on the bed.

Adrien: You still planning on getting lunch today?

Nino: Yeah, I got some stuff to finish up that's due @ noon, but we could go after

Adrien: Sounds good, how're classes going?

Nino: Well, I've heard you talk about how dry your junior capitalist meetings are, and I can assure you that, without a doubt, Professor Putnam is three times dryer

Adrien: Grad school sounds like a blast

Nino: its thrilling, now bug off, I gotta finish this, I'll see you at 12:30?

Adrien: Wouldn't miss it

Nino turned off the phone and got to work.

He got a respectable amount done by noon, and sent off the file at 11:59 precisely. He turned his phone back on and a flood of notifications rolled down the screen.

Alya: UUUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH...

Alya: Can you believe this guy, and whats worse ca...

Alya: What really bothers me though is the way tha...

Alya: I swear, if I have to hear another relative say b...

Alya: That absolute shitstain of a man is the last thing...

Alay: Did you hear about the new thing with Hawke? he...

Apparently it had been an eventful morning.

He opened up the first text.

Alya: Did you hear about Hawke? he just announce he's running for president

Alya: That absolute shitstain of a man is the last thing this garbage pile of a country needs.

Alya: What really bothers me is the way that people are taking it seriously, like, this is the man Front National wouldn't endorse.

Alya: I swear, if I have to hear another white guy say 'ooh, he's outside the system' NO SHIT, he's outside the system because the system had the basic decency to kick him the fuck out.

Alya: Can you believe this guy, and what's worse is I'm going to have to report on this creep for like, a year!

Alya: UUUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Gross.

A knock at the door interrupted Nino's reply. He opened the door and Adrien stood there, leaning against the hallway of Nino's apartment building.

"So, you ready to get lunch?"

"Just gotta put on some shoes, come in."

"Nice place you got here Nino."

"Not for long, I'm gonna be apartment hunting again soon."

Nino finished tying his shoes and stood up.

"Where are we headed?"

"Why am I always the one who has to decide on where we eat" Adrien laughed and stepped back into the hallway as Nino locked up the apartment.

"It's because you're the one with the time and money to eat out with any regularity." Nino said, giving Adrien's shoulder a playful punch.

"Fair enough I guess. I was thinking the bourgeoisie pig, since it's pretty close."

"The coffee shop? Do they even have food there?"

"I think they have a couple of lunch options, are you hungry?"

"I'm starving, I haven't had anything to eat since lunch yesterday."

"Dude, you've got to eat. Fine, how's Heather's sound?"  

"Bro. I am always down for Heather's, you know this."

"Right, dumb question gets dumb answer, Lets go."

Heather's was only a few metro stops away from Nino's apartment, so it didn't take them too long before they were sitting down in the distressed leather booths that fit right in with Heather's distinct 'american diner' aesthetic. The walls were decorated with old street signs, black and white photos of crowds of people, and other random paraphernalia. Nino looked over the menu, an eclectic mix of American/Korean/Chinese/Indian/French/Japanese dishes, and unlikely fusions of all of the above.

"Bro, is there any chance that the vegan ramen burger is good?" Adrien seemed skeptical, but Nino knew better.

"Heather's has yet to let me down. That is far from the weirdest sounding thing I've gotten here. You should try their vegan soy sauce ice cream, that's an experience."

"I'll take your word for it. You ready for tonight?"

"D&D? Heck yes, I've been ready all week. I hope we get to go a bit longer this week though, last week felt kind of short."

"Yeah, but at least we got a bit of action, I was itching for a fight."

"Yeah well you don't have a wizard's hit points, so I can see how you might be a bit more eager to fight."

"Please, you're fine, we all passed our tests and now we’re gonna see some real fighting, I wonder what Alya is going to throw at us tonight."

"Same, I'm itching for a chance to get to use my new item."

Evening came and Adrien and Nino walked up the steps to Alya's apartment, the October chill settling in as the sun sank below the tall parisian buildings. When they hit the buzzer for Alya's apartment there was a long pause before the intercom crackled.

"Yeah?"

"Its us, Adrien and Nino, you wanna let us in?"

The lock clicked and Nino pushed into the foyer, the old building was a bit run down, but not a bad place to live. They took the elevator up to the fifth floor, and waited as Alya undid the locks on both doors to the apartment proper.

"Hey guys, ready to play? Marinette just texted, she should be here in a couple minutes. Chloe is on her way too."

When they were all gathered at the table, Alya got down to business.

"You all leveled up last time, so did you all figure out your stuff or do you need to do that now."

With leveling up out of the way, Alya wasted no time launching into the story.

"Last time, you remember, you appeared in front of a cave and decided to explore it, finding an old gnome who told you that you had been chosen by the gods to protect Erathia, as you stepped forward to accept this responsibility four fighters appeared to test your abilities, you defeated them, and the Gnome rewarded you with magical items of great power. You then appeared back in Erathia, and that was where we left off."