#Drabble a Day May

[gofishygo]

giggling ab this okay so

imagine gaz n reader, they've just started to date

and reader is trans (ftm) but gaz doesn't know that yet

but then after a few weeks of dating reader is taking their T in the bathroom/bedroom and had forgotten to lock the door & gaz walks in oh no,,

YEAH so!!! i hope that's enough to.. you know. yeah!!!! i 💗 ur fics sm.

(we need more ftm fics RIGHT NOW!!)

whoEVER ANON IS . I LOVE U . Thank u so so so so much 4 this request my fingers have been acting to write m or ftm content u have appealed to my deepest desires . myways this rq is super silly i love chilled out gay mf and nervous closeted trans mf dynamic so much. 

Also posted on trans visibility day lets GOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!

the same (always changing); kyle 'gaz' garrick + trans male! reader (979 words)

notes: some implied and described internalised transphobia, mentions of transphobia, mentions of gender dysphoria, reader does not have top surgery yet, partial nudity on reader (non-sexual), little hurt/comfort type w/ fluff at the end !!

-

It wasn’t meant to be a secret. It really wasn't.

But here you are, cooped up in the cold premise of your shared bathroom, waiting for the gel to dry into your skin as you stare at your figure in the mirror, noticing the little changes with a strange sense of europhia. You wished you could run back to the arms of your boyfriend as you ramble about how good the hormones have been working, how you can see your outer shell peeling open to show the man who's been living in the inside, a feedback loop that had you seeing yourself in reflections instead of skin and hair and face that you'd barely recognised. Maybe his face would melt into that gorgeous smile, arms pulling you closer to him like he's seeping off the happiness he swears he sees seeping off your skin's pores. But it's the flip of a coin, a winning ticket in an uncertain lottery.

you're not so sure if Kyle would love the kind of person you were.

gender hadn't ever been a point of focus in your conversations, never something that had to be caught and pinned down with word or thought. he was a man, you were a man, and you loved each other. both of you did your best to keep it at that simplicity. but part of you, like the serpent to adam and eve, had always doubted whether kyle would look at you with the same eyes if you somehow ended up showing him your childhood photos or now-invalid passport, the face that was still soaked with dysphoria-ridden tears. 

the gel is still sticking to your ribs when the door practically flies off its hinges slamming against concrete walls and gaping open your closed eyes with ugly sound. There's a groan of exasperation that should make you giggle, but only makes already tense muscles almost turn to stone. "honey, you done ? really need to take a fat shi-" 

And then there's that silence both unsurprising but dreaded, how it felt to inhale smoke. 

You hate the shock as his eyes run over your bare chest in realisation, feeling any words about to come out crawling back into your windpipe as he notices the thin layer of gel and the label of the bottle on the sink. 

"love?" he calls, an endearing substitute replacing your name. you didn’t know if he'd call you that, even after this revelation. Or did he not know what else to call you now that this had been revealed ? "kyle," you echo. 

please just look at me, kyle. 

his eyes still look the same as how they look at you; stormclouds that accompany you on lonely and rainy nights, and your eyes can't help on focus on the pretty shade of grey instead of the battering of water droplets hitting against tin. Not once  does it ever shift to malice or hatred- only worry, for you, maybe. 

"do you want to talk about it right now ?" isn't the response that you expected. It's an gentle offer, and extended hand waiting for you to take or push away, more freeing than astute observations of your perceived identity or the bitter words hissed out when others had realised. You can only nod your head in response. 

"im sorry," you say, and you don’t know how much (what you're) apologising for. Sorry for never telling you. Sorry for making a distance that could have been avoided. Sorry for being this without your permission, anyone else's permission. 

but he's quick to hold you and the shame that you carry , not minding any of the gel residue on his shirt. "hey, no, it's okay," his voice is gentle, reaching out for your secluded self. "remember what I told you when we first started dating?" he puts a hand to your head, playing with your hair as he pulls you closer to him. "I love all of you, dove. Everything." he rests his chin onto your shoulder, murmuring the words into your ear. And you can't help but hug back, clinging to him like a lifeline. Your lifeline. "I love you too," you muse.

you both stay there for a minute before he pulls away with a complaint of some back pain from a recent mission, and you kiss his nose, allowing yourself to smile for the first time since he'd entered the room. "so.." you start, now perched on the rim of the bathtub. "you're ok with me being trans?"

you giggle when he deadpans at you, "love, I just hugged you for 5 full minutes after seeing you apply testosterone instead of taking a shit. I don’t really care if you're trans." 

and after your testosterone dries and you put on your shirt, you both in bed, tangled up in each other's arms. ramblings about little stories or town gossip. professions of grandiose love guised under quiet murmurs. the hormones are still a little crusty on your skin, but they're doing the work that should have been done since birth. 

The same, always changing. 

[ancha-aus]

RealAge AU Drabble - Parentalbond Dust

I am back :3 Another drabble for the RealAge AU (Thanks @spotaus as always for starting this treat by treating me to the first prompt that got this ball rolling)

First drabble Prev drabble Next drabble

Remember how in the last drabble I uploaded i mentioned those parentalbonds? (honestly if you read my drabbles in order these before things won't make ANY kind of sense... anyway!)

I had been thinking about how all of them bond with they new tiny boss and finally settles on how. The question then was. Who goes first?

I decided to go in order of who bonded with Nightmare first :3

So, big surprise. Dust. (everyone was surprised by this)

Warnings as always, unedited and unbeta'ed. We are here for a good and fun time.

Slight warning for Ghost/hallucination Papyrus being rude and mean and intrusive thoughts.

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

Dust can admit that Nightmare is fast. Dust is just faster, by a lot.

As soon as Nightmare shifts Dust has an arm around him and drags him back to his side.

Nightmare glares at him, and it would have been terrifying and effective.

If Nightmare wasn't tiny.

Fuck DUst is still not over how TINY his boss is now.

Can Dust even still call him boss? That would be weird. Kiler tends to call Nightmare Tiny Boss now but Dust isn't quite set on a name yet.

Nightmare grumbles nad glares to the side once it becomes clear once again that Dust isn't going to get intimidated.

Nightmare glances at him before crossing his arms as he looks to the side "This is stupid."

Dust nods "I agree." Dust did not want to be here just watching Nightmare and keeping him from wandering and getting lost.

A cackle and then a whisper Really? First kidnaping and now keeping him a prisoner? How low you have sunk. Keeping a child captured and locked away.

Dust's hand forms a fist as he tries to ignore the muttering. They just need Nightmare to see he can trust them. That is all. That takes time. The chackle just chackles on.

Nightmare shoots him a look "It is stupid. I don't need supervision. I am fine on my own."

Dust goes to nod before blinking and shooting him a look "Yeah no. Nice try. I am staying right here."

Nightmare looks beyond annoyed but it is justified that one of them watches over him. Mostly because Nightmare had already managed to almost escape three times.

Look, it has been an hectic week since they euh... found Nightmare again.

Even more laughter that no one else hears Oh? That is what you call it now? That is what you call stalking a child? Following him everywhere? Finding out where he feels safest and surprising him there? Hah! Found! You are a liar and you even lie to yourself.

Dust glares harder at the dark wall as he pulls his knees up and leans on those as he watches the wall, still being a physical barrier between Nightmare and the door.

Nightmare glares at him but Dust just keeps glaring at the shedwall. Waiting. Hoping one of the others will come to relieve him of this babysitting duty. He hates it. He feels useless and stuck.

A huff Wow? Really? You decided to capture him and now you are annoyed you have to watch your prisoner? And even better the one you captured was the one to save you before? You really are thankless and impossible to please. You will never be happy or content and you don't deserve to feel other of those things.

Dust takes another deep breath. He needs a distraction. But what?!

Dust takes out his phone and scrolls through what he has on there. He sees a few movies and gets an idea.

He needs to wait while the others get supplies anyway. Cross is getting information about the multiverse, Horror is getting them food and Killer is getting them overall supplies.

Which means they should still be busy for a while.

Dust pauses as he shoots Nightmare a look. Nightmare had just been sitting there staring at his own feet as he wiggles his feet a bit. Distracted for a bit.

Dust grins as he reaches for Nightmare and quickly grabs him.

Nightmare immediantly freezes for a moment before glaring "What?!"

Dust grins and just turns him around and his old hoody that Nightmare had taken and stolen ages ago. and as Nightmare has his arms crossed he puts the hoody on him. He yelps but Dust doens't give him time to try and get his arms in the right sleeves. Instead Dust ties those together.

He thinks for a moment before grabbing his scarf and using that to tie up the slippery skeleton.

Dust takes a step back to watch his handy work and can't help but snort.

Nightmare looks shocked down at his state. The hoody already making it harder for him to move and now the scarf kept him even more from moving. The problem was. With Nightmare just being tiny and looking like a babybones... He looks plainly adorable. Fuck Dust kinda wished he had made a bow instead of a knot but he has a mission.

Dust nods and looks at Nightmare "Don't move. I am going to grab some food." He turns and leaves the shed.

It should take Nightmare at least a little while to escape that situation. And Nightmare hadn't tried another teleport after he butchered the last one and got them all thrown into a river. Which means that Dust doubts he will try another one soon.

Dust follows the road and by memory finds the pizza place they walked by not too long ago. He only has to wait for a little while before a delivery boy goes by on bike. He kicks off the guy and snatches the bag. Dust is already in the bushes again before the human has time to form a completely sentence.

Dust has to take a bit of a longer way back to make sure he doesn't go over the road. But as he cuts through backyards and gardens he can't help but feel a bit anxious. What if Nightmare escapes? How is he going to explain that.

By the time he is by the shed again he is close to shaking. He opens it and snorts as Nightmare seems to have fallen over. Less funny is the fact he has almost wiggled his way out of his trappings.

Dust puts the bag to the side and silently joins Nightmare's side "And? Is it working?"

Nightmare freezes before a mutter "I hate you."

That.

Dust isn't sure how to explain how much that hurts.

A sneer Really? Are your poor feelings hurt? By just that? What? Are you sad your so-called boss finally hates you? After all the disappointment and betrayal? And yet you feel sad? You truly are nothing but disgusting and disapointing trash.

Dust ignores it as he pulls Nightmare back upright and undoes the scarf binding and unknots the sleeves. Dust has already helped Nightmare with getting on of his arms into the right sleeve before Dust realises what he is doing.

Dust freezes and Nightmare ignores him as he quickly finishes dressing himself. After which Nightmare glances at him with an expecting look.

Dust instead just sits down on his spot on the ground. Opens the bag and fishes out the food. Oh nice. two pizzas instead of one. He lays both open near him before spotting some weird shake things, three of them. Dust shrugs again and places them near them. Next he grabs Nightmare again and pulls him right by his side as he opens his phone and scrolls through the movies.

Dust very quickly realises he deosn't really have movies without a high rating on his phone.Dust isn't even sure how far Nightmare's mind is at the moment.

Dust knows that Nightmare knows who they are. But Dust doens't know how old Nightmare is mentally at the moment. It isn't like Nightmare is sharing any of that information with them at the moment but Dust thinks he is at least a child again. He just also still has his adult form's memories and that is causing a bit of a disconnect.

Dust sighs and looks at Nightmare "Do you like horror movies?"

Nightmare shoots him a suspicious look before answering "I don't dislike them. They can be..." a frown as Ngihtmare thinks for a while before answering with some difficulty "interesting."

That was another thing that is slightly adorable. Nightmare is trying to still speak like he used to before but it seems that some of his knowledge has disappeared after regaining his true body.

Dust nods as he puts on the horror movie. It is one he thinks is okay even after seeing it four times. And only one of those four was because Dust had wanted to watch it.

He presses play and the movie starts.

Nightmare at first tries to keep his distance but it is a matter of time before he is focussed fully on the movie.

Dust grabs some food and eats it. He makes sure it push some towards Nightmare including one of the drinks.

The movie plays and they watch as some dude bro guy walks through the froest. Shouting about how he isn't scared and to come get him!

"... Why?"

Dust blinks and looks at Nightmare. Nightmare stares at him.

Dust looks back at his phone and the now paused movie "Why the guy is screaming? Mostly he is stupid?"

Nightmare frowns beofre looking away "No. I mean... Why.... this?"

Dust looks at the pizza and his phone "I just wanted to watch a movie?"

More frustration on Nightmare's face before he sighs. He then just looks back at the phone with a resigned expression. "okay."

Dust hates that. No. That isn't right. Nightmare doesn't give up and certainly doesn't give up getting answers to questions he has. Dust doesn't press play and looks at Nightmare "What why?"

Ngihtmare glances to the side. To all their things. "You don't... want to be here... with me. Why..."

Dust frowns "I told you? To make sure you don't escape."

More frustration on that tiny face and Ngihtmare looks away "it's not..." another sigh "whatever. When will you kill me?"

dead silence.

Dust turns sharply "What?!"

Nightmare shrugs "I figured... I wanne know."

Dust stares at Nightmare "What the hell? No we don't want you dead?! Why would we go out of our way to find you just to hurt and kill you?!"

Nightmare sits very still before shrugging again "it is the normal thing... normally."

The book. The fucking story. Fuck! He is a fucking idiot!

Nightmare is a child again! Nightmare is in the middle of his fucking trauma! To him the trauma happened days ago! Of course he thinks they would hurt him. That is what always happens.

How long has Nightmare thought that was the only reason anyone ever came to him? How long had a six year old have to fear the sound of someone approaching.

Dust looks away "We... aren't going to kill you... or hurt you." but... why would he beleive his words? Why would he believe anything any of them say after they arleady betrayed him once?

"okay."

It didn't sound like an okay in the way that he heard and believed what Dust said. it was an okay in the sense of a child being afraid to disagree.

Fuck.

Dust isn't sure how to... how to fix this mess. The mess he had partly created. He isn't even sure this can be fixed...

Dust glances back at him and speaks quieter "I mean it... we aren't going to hurt you. We don't want that." wait... he never... "I am sorry."

a long silence but he forces more out "we shouldn't have left. I shouldn't have left. I just... figured it wasn't my place anymore. I was wrong. I am sorry i left you." and it won't happen again.

Even just saying those things. Apologising. Dust feels lighter. It feels good. He needed Nightmare ot hear that Dust now realises.

Ngihtmare doens't say anything about it but does relax a tiny bit next to him. A very very fragile and tiny show of trust and Dust wants to grab it with both hands but he does't know how!

For now he turns the movie on again and makes sure the babybones is near him and eating and drinking.

Dust isn't even watching the movie anymore. He just listens out in case there is anyone who will try to hurt Nightmare or tempt this uneasy peace they have managed to create.

THe movie plays on and Dsut suddenly feels a weight against him. He turns and stares. Because Nightmare is asleep while leaning against him. Out like a light.

It doesn't even surprise Dust. As Dust doubts that Nightmare slept at all in this last week. Maybe even not before they took him with them.

Dust can't help but notice the very dark marks under those sockets. clear sighs of lack of sleep.

Dust moves slowly and carefully as he picks Nightmare up and puts him in his lap. Fuck he is freezing. Dust wraps his own hoody around him and it helps him relax.

He is safe. He is asleep. And while getting Ngihtmare to trust them again will be a long time and healing will be even longer... For now Dust is happy with his arms full of babybones.

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First drabble Prev drabble Next drabble

[chaotic-orphan]

Partners in Crime (Merry Whump of May: day 21)

Charismatic : “sit”// vial // balcony

Tw: forced swallowing of suspicious substance, handcuffs, small spaces

Completely unedited :) so read at your peril

~*~*~*~*~*~

Casper let out a groan as the car finally came to a stop. With his hands cuffed behind his back and his legs bunched up in the tight space, there was no way to stop himself from hitting his head off a corner at the sudden stop. It only aggravated his headache from the beating Monroe’s goons had given him before they stuffed him in here.

Casper heard two car doors open and close followed by footsteps that got closer and closer to the boot. Casper knew this was inevitable, if you stuff someone in a boot and park the car, usually you’re going to have to remove them from the boot, but still… his heart pounded all the same.

It was Gavin who opened the boot and stared down at Casper with a wicked grin. “Enjoy the ride, Casper?”

“I’d enjoy it more if I didn’t have to see your face, ugly,” Casper replied, already moving to sit up in the boot which turned out to be more of an effort than he initially thought.

As soon as he sat up Gavin had a fist wrapped into Hero’s shirt and yanked him forward. Casper’s eyes went wide but he could do nothing to stop himself as his body went with gravity and he fell face first onto the concrete. At the last-minute Casper jutted his shoulder forward, taking the brunt of the impact there instead his face but it still hurt.

“You’re such a dick,” Casper spat, rolling onto his back and wanting to kick his legs at Gavin. He would have too, except for his legs being dead. His blood fizzed as feeling slowly returned to him. Gavin let out a stupid laugh that grated on Casper’s ears, hurting more than the fall.

God… Casper really wanted Monroe to just kill the fucker already. Give Casper some peace, hire better goons.

“Oi,” the other goon called, voice drawl and monotone. “What’s the holdup?”

“He’s being difficult,” Gavin said in reply. Casper heard a sigh and then the other guy walked around the car to see Casper lying on the ground. Casper instantly scurried backwards as best he could on his cuffed hands and pins-and-needle-riddled legs that was just becoming awake.

Monroe’s other favourite goon, who Casper only knew as Dante, was far scarier than Gavin thought he was. He was lethal, efficient and humourless. His pale eyed stare pinned Casper in place after Casper’s back hit the wall. Casper watched as Dante reached behind his back and retrieved his gleaming pistol, drawing back the hammer and loading a round into the chamber with the simple flick of his thumb.

Dante inclined his head, voice monotone as he said: “would you like to walk up to Monroe’s suite, Casper? Or crawl?”

Casper set his mouth into a resolute, thin line, trying to maintain any of his dignity that vanished when Dante was involved. “I think I’ll walk,” Casper replied, already pushing himself up by leveraging his back against the wall.

Dante’s expression didn’t change. He didn’t holster his pistol; he just walked over to Casper and grabbed the crook of his elbow before pushing him towards the lift that led to the hotel above. Casper knew exactly where he was. Dante had brought him here multiple times before. The handcuffs and the boot treatment was new, but Casper didn’t have to think twice about why he was cuffed. Why Dante was being especially impatient…

Gavin followed him into the lift and pressed the button for the penthouse suite. This was when the nerves usually kicked in, but today Casper was more scared of Dante than Monroe. Monroe, he could sweet talk. Dante was like talking to a wall. An imposing, emotionless brick of a wall. The only advantage Casper had for assurances that Dante wouldn’t kill him was Monroe’s… fondness for Casper.

On good days, Casper liked to think on his relationship like more of a partnership. Where Casper and Monroe were equals. That’s the way it had always been, but lately… well, things have been tense to say the least.

He cast his eyes to the ascending numbers of the lift, watching every floor rise until he reached floor 63: Monroe’s home, the penthouse suite.

Dante punched in the six-digit passcode to enter the penthouse, while Gavin nudged Casper with his shoulder. “You fucked up big this time Casper, I don’t think Monroe’s gonna be so forgiving.”

Casper scoffed, glancing back over his shoulder to Gavin. “Even if he kills me, it would be a blessing. At least I wouldn’t have to stand so close to you.”

“You just think you’re so smart, don’t ya?” Gavin cursed, shoving Casper forward. Casper didn’t brace for a push and so he stumbled forward, just at the perfect timing that the lift doors opened. Casper lost his balance but recovered slightly and only dropped to one knee.

“I don’t think I’m smart, Gavin,” Casper replied easily, getting one foot under him. He shot a smirk over his shoulder to the bull in a China shop and said: “I just know I’m smarter than you.”

Casper got his second foot under him and went to stand but froze when he felt Gavin’s meaty hand on the back of his neck.

“Why you little—”

Dante’s cool voice cut through Gavin’s no doubt colourful insults. “You’ve wasted enough time already.”

Gavin’s hand disappeared from Casper’s neck, instead Dante’s hand replaced it and yanked Casper up. Before Casper could protest, Dante shoved him forward, further into Monroe’s apartment, the threat clear. Keep walking or else.

“Okay, alright! I’m going,” Casper grumbled, rolling his shoulders, thankful his legs had stopped prickling and was now fully functioning. Casper walked into the kitchen and froze.

Sitting at the kitchen island with a steaming cup of coffee beside him sat Monroe. He smiled when he saw Casper and stood to greet him. A hand pressed between Casper’s shoulder blades shoved him further into the kitchen, barely catching himself.

“Casper,” Monroe greeted, his voice soft and melodic like a warm tenor, pleasing on the ear. “I’m so happy to see you.”

Casper bit back his unhelpful reply and just beamed a smile at Monroe instead. He had to play this safe, otherwise he’d probably end up dead. Casper matched Monroe’s steps forward, shrugging as casually as he could with his hands cuffed behind his back.

“Yeah, well. Not every day you get thrown into the boot of a car by two goons, is it?”

Monroe’s grin was sharper than a Stanley blade as he extended a hand to Casper’s forehead where Gavin had slammed his head against the ground to stop him from fleeing.

“You’re bleeding,” Monroe said, tenderly touching the broken skin around the wound. Casper barely caught the greedy look in Monroe’s eyes before he pressed his thumb to Casper’s cut. Casper hissed and recoiled, but Monroe caught the back of Casper’s head with his other hand and kept him still. “Does it hurt?”

“Yes!” Casper hissed, trying to shoulder Monroe away from him.

The corner of Monroe’s lips twitched up. “Good,” he said, digging his thumb in harder before pulling away from Casper altogether. The pain was more of an annoying ache really, a loss of sensation but he wanted to relieve it somehow. He wanted to reach up and press a tender hand to it, but with his hands cuffed he couldn’t really do much of anything.

He watched as Monroe strolled over to retrieve his coffee off the island, then shot a pleasant smile back and Casper.

“Shall we enjoy the sunset on the balcony, Casper?” He asked, but he was walking before Casper could answer. Casper glanced back to Dante and Gavin before setting his jaw and reluctantly following Monroe out to the balcony.

“I’d enjoy the sunset if you took these cuffs off,” Casper told Monroe, voice sweet like honey. Monroe smiled at Casper as he sat in his favourite cushioned armchair and set his coffee on the glass table in front of him.

Monroe gestured for Casper to take his usual seat in front of Monroe’s, “please, sit.”

“You know what, Monroe? I’d love a coffee, if you’re feeling generous,” Casper said with a sigh and a cheeky smile as he settled into his own cushioned chair.

Monroe laughed. “Oh, Casper… I am feeling a lot of things towards you at the moment,” his brown eyes cutting into Casper’s. “Not one of him is generous.”

Casper reclined back into the chair, kissing his teeth and switched his gaze to the bustling city instead. The sunset was beautiful, casting the buildings with soft orange light as the sun sank low into the blue and pink sky. Casper wished he could enjoy it like he usually did. Instead, he was here, sitting across from Monroe and trying his best to ignore the claw of fear that had gripped his chest.

“I thought we had an understanding, Casper,” Monroe began with his soothing tone and sugar-coated words. “I thought we was partners.”

“Yeah,” Casper said with a scoff, turning to look at Monroe. “I thought so too. Then, next thing I know Dante’s at my door, beating the shit out of me to drag me here to you! My phone didn’t break by the way, it still works. Normal people call when he need something.”

Monroe’s eyes flashed with a drop of cruelty, a knowing smirk spreading across his face.

“Are you really trying to play coy with me, Casper?” Monroe asked with a laugh. “We both know you’re smarter than that.”

Casper sat forward in his chair and tried for a charming smile. “How about you take these cuffs off and we can have a lovely little chat, hmm? That’s what you want right? To smooth everything over.”

Monroe hummed, taking a sip of his coffee and glancing out across the city’s skyline. Casper huffed out a scoff and rolled his eyes, glancing back to the door to track where the other two arseholes was.

“Of course, Casper. We can have a civil conversation.”

Casper cocked an eyebrow, waiting for the and, if or, but. Monroe in reply, took something out of his pocket and placed it on the table between him. Casper made a point of looking at it — it was like a scientist’s test tube but smaller with a cork in it, or a vial of some toxic substance. The liquid inside was a deep purple where the sun hit it, but otherwise it looked black. When Casper glanced back at Monroe he was smiling, looking very comfortable and pleased with himself.

The warning bells was already blaring in his mind, so Casper just remained silent. Even if he wanted to speak, he wouldn’t know what to say.

“I’ll take off your cuffs, as long as you drink this.”

“I can’t drink it unless you take the cuffs off,” Casper shot back, agitated.

“Nonsense, “Monroe waved away, grabbing his coffee from the table and nodding at someone behind Casper. “That’s what I pay Dante for.”

A hand crossed in front of Casper, and he recoiled back, his heart racing. He jumped to his feet as Dante appeared in front of him, but a pair of hands on his shoulders dragged him back down to the chair and held him there.

There was a pop as the vial was uncorked.

“No, no, no! Wait!” Casper cried, struggling under Gavin’s hold as Dante stepped too between Casper’s legs that ruled out the use of his legs. “Monroe! What is that?!”

“Open up, Casper,” Dante said in the same monotone droll. “Don’t make me force you.”

Casper’s chest rose and fell too fast as he continued to struggle, turning his head away as Dante reached forward. A hand in Casper’s hair had him crying out as Dante wrenched his head backwards.

“Aagh! Get off of me!” Casper cried, twisting and turning, trying to stop Dante’s hand from getting closer or even better, spilling the fucking contents of the vial.

“Always so difficult,” Dante sighed, yanking Casper’s head back until he was staring at the sky. Casper grit his teeth to keep from crying out or opening his mouth. Dante leaned over Casper, pressing his forearm across Hero’s forehead, keeping him down and with his freehand he grabbed Casper’s nose and plugged it between his fingers.

Casper’s eyes widened, his struggles renewing as he realised what Dante was doing. Those pale, uncaring eyes stared down at Casper’s, waiting for him to open his mouth.

“You could have done it the easy way, you idiot,” Dante said, watching as Casper went purple from holding his breath. The struggling didn’t help with his lack of oxygen and Casper was afraid he’d burst or pass out and so —

Casper gasped and then the cool liquid was running down his throat. Casper coughed and sputtered, trying to spit it out. Before he could, Dante slammed his palm under Casper’s chin and dug his fingers into Casper’s cheek. Those pale eyes stared down soulless and bored.

“Swallow it, you child.”

Casper tried to twist his head free, but Dante didn’t let him. Dante slammed Casper’s head back again, so he was staring at the sky.

“Oi,” Dante drawled. “Do I have to cut off your oxygen again or are ya gonna behave?”

Casper pulled every ounce of hatred from his body into the glare he shot at Dante, his nostrils flaring but he knew there was only one way that this ended.

Casper swallowed the now warm liquid. “Is it gone?”

“Mmph,” Casper tried to affirm.

Dante tilted his head. “Swallow again.”

Casper obeyed. Satisfied, Dante let go of Casper’s cheeks and stepped away. Casper let his head fall forward, rolling his neck to try and get rid of the creak. Dante stepped to the side of Casper’s chair and snapped his fingers onto his palm in a ‘come here’ gesture that Casper understood to mean give Dante his hands.

Casper leaned forward, coughing slightly. Dante grabbed Casper’s cuffed hands none too gently and Casper heard the satisfying click that signalled his freedom.

Casper coughed again as he brought his hands in front of him, glaring at Monroe as he rubbed his wrists.

“What—” Casper said, cutting himself off with a cough. “What was that, Monroe?”

Monroe’s smile was cruel as he leaned forward in his seat, clasping his hands between his knees. Casper’s throat felt so dry, and swallowing wasn’t doing anything to relieve the scratchiness.

“You remember Colt,” Monroe said.

Casper raised his brows. “Yeah? Vaguely?”

“He works in science, in a lab more specifically. Remember he made those power dampeners that the police love.”

“Yeah, they’re not the only ones,” Casper spat pointedly. His wrists weren’t the only things those stupid cuffs affected. It left Casper’s abilities disoriented afterward, something Monroe no doubt wanted Casper to experience. That off kilter, claustrophobic—

Something lurched in Casper’s chest, as if someone had just hit him from inside with a hammer. Casper’s hand went to his chest, fingers digging into his ribcage.

“Something wrong?” Monroe asked kindly.

“What—?” Casper breathed before another pang hit him and Casper jerked forward, taking in two long, panicked lungfuls of air. Casper got to his feet, needing to get away because something was wrong. Something was so so… wrong.

His vision turned as if Casper was on a waltzers or something and he barely managed to brace himself with his hands before he hit the balcony floor, heaving.

“AGH! Mo— Monr—” Casper cried, screaming as his chest burned, spreading a current of pure pain from his heart around his body. Casper’s strength left him as his body convulsed and felt like it was burning. As if an army of fire ants was crawling under his skin, biting and cutting and burning.

Casper curled into a ball, grabbing his knees and digging his nails into his waist as his breath seemed to falter and stop and he was so hot, his mind blind with pain as stars burst behind his eyes and something was wrong!

Casper shivered, his clothes scratching and uncomfortable as he writhed in pain, loud whimpers and screams torn from his throat as the poison made its way through his veins. That’s all that little vial could be… poison. Monroe… Monroe was going to kill him…

As if reading Casper’s thoughts Monroe stood, pressing his heel into Casper’s shoulder and kicking him onto his back. Casper’s glare was probably teary and ineffective, but he glared up all the same as his energy ebbed and flowed through his body, shivering and almost paralysed.

“Yeah, nerdy Colt. Little genius really,” Monroe said with a casual shrug, crouching so he could get closer to Casper. Casper tried to lift his arm and push him away, but he could barely lift it off the ground. “Well, I asked Colt if he could somehow manufacture an ingestible version of the power dampeners.”

Casper’s eye’s widened in horror, mumbling out incoherent protests as his body spasmed beneath him.

“Oh hush, don’t worry. I don’t want your abilities gone, I just wanted to punish you for disobeying me, Casper,” Monroe said softly. His words anything but soothing. He reached out and brushed some of Casper’s sweat-soaked hair from his forehead and smiled down at him almost tenderly. “The effects are temporary, Colt assured me, maybe two or three days—”

“You’re a bastard,” Casper spat, teeth chattering.

Monroe grinned.

“The effects are temporary, Casper, but I hope the message won’t be,” he said as he moved his hand to Casper’s throat and squeezed. Casper’s body only responded weakly, his arm brushing Monroe’s trying to dislodge it, but Monroe leaned so his breath fanned Casper’s cheek. “And if the message gets lost along the way, well, I had back-ups made in case you need a little reminder every now and then.”

Dark spots crowded the edges of Casper’s vision and for a moment he thought Monroe was going to choke him out.

Dante said something to the side and Monroe raised his brows, intrigued. Then as lazily as he cut off Casper’s oxygen he stood to his full height and grabbed his empty mug off the table. Casper gasped in air, turning on his side as he guzzled in sweet, fresh air into his lungs.

His smile was the same, usual charismatic one he wore when he was trying to imitate a human being. “Wonderful. Well Casper, get up. Duty calls. You can’t just lie around on my balcony all day. I’ll put on the kettle.”

Casper rolled onto his back and stared at the colour-streaked sky, his body spent and his mind racing. All he wanted to do right now was sleep, or die, or kill Monroe and Dante— or all three.

As soon as he got his breath back, he’d do one of him. Maybe. Probably, for now he just stared at the sky.

“Casper!” Monroe called from inside. “If you don’t move in the next ten seconds, I’ll get Dante to administer a second dose.”

Casper held up his middle finger through the window, not caring if Monroe even saw it. Reluctantly Casper sat up and got to his feet slowly, using the furniture to help him up.

He had made up his mind: he was going to kill Monroe…

after coffee.

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

[misericorsalvator]

An Epitaph

Henry didn't know where he was. It was cold, freezing, but that was all he could tell, from the sharp chill that tore through his damp clothes, to the frigid air that felt like icicles in his lungs when he breathed. Even if he was someplace familiar, it would have been impossible to tell through the veil of rime in the air, the thick hoar that coated the ground. But wherever he was, he had to find shelter. soon, before his limbs grew any number that they already were and he lost the three fingers he had left on his right hand to frostbite. It took a good deal of walking, trudging through the snow, before he found something resembling sanctuary. A rocky hovel dug deep into a mountainside he hadn't even noticed was there. The crooked mountaintop loomed far overhead like a wind-swept pine tree, towering over the barren expanse and shielding the small patch of land near the cave's entrance from the worst of the snowfall. It was a narrow fit, the opening more narrow than a coffin, but it opened up into a wide chamber beyond, dark, lit only by the little light reflecting on the snow outside.

Panic stabbed at him suddenly. That chamber felt familiar, though he couldn't recall from where. The rockface of the walls was smooth, man-made, and the stalactites hanging from the domed ceiling above were unnatural, all the same length, jagged and sharpened to fine points. But he had no time to waste on the unnerving interior. The weather outside was getting worse, the wind howling like wolves on a hunt, and soon his shelter would be just as cold and dangerous as the outside. He had to think, find a way to keep the warmth in. Henry returned to the entrance. He twisted around in the narrow space as best he could and began piling up snow with his numb hands, stacking it, pressing it into shape, mouthing breathless curses to himself, until he had built a solid wall halfway up to his neck. It should last. He didn't know for how long, but at least for now, until he could catch his breath. It had to last.

Henry slumped against the wall of the cave. The barrier he had built offered some protection, but he could still feel the cold creeping in, seeping through the gaps and cracks in the snow. A damp chill gnawed at his bones, freezing the air in his lungs. He knew he had to keep moving, to do something, anything, to stay warm and awake. He couldn’t afford to fall asleep. Not here. Not now. But his limbs were leaden and his body creaked in protest with every movement. His teeth chattered as he tried to think, tried to remember where he was and how he had gotten there. The harder he tried, however, the more his thoughts seemed to slip away, like sand through his fingers. Panic clawed at his chest once more as he looked around the cavern. The walls seemed to close in, the smooth stone shimmering with a thin layer of rime frost. The ceiling above with the unnaturally sharp stalactites, loomed over him like a mouth full of fangs. He had to get out.

Henry pushed himself off the wall, his legs shaking beneath him. The snow was piling up faster now, further in through the entrance than the wall he had built, and he frantically began to shovel it away with his hands, trying to clear a path through the narrow gap. He shovelled harder, floundered, grappled til his fingers were too numb to move, but for every tiny hopeful opening he made, more snow took its place, as if the storm outside was determined to bury him alive. The cold was unbearable now, seeping into his very soul. Outside, the wind roared, a feral sound that echoed through the cavern and made the air thick with cold. Each breath now was a knife to the chest, each inhale burning his lungs. The snow crawled closer, blocking the entrance fully, and began to cover the cave floor inch by painful inch, forcing the hunter back step by painful step.

Henry's mind was reeling. He stumbled further into the cave, away from the encroaching cold, the bones of his legs creaking in protest. The deeper he went, the more the walls seemed to close in on him, the smooth rock pressing down, suffocating. The quiet there was unnerving, an oppressive stillness that made him painfully aware of his own laboured breathing and the pounding of his heart. The silence of the grave. For what felt like an hour, he pushed himself forward against the stone walls, cowering under the stalactites which were now low enough to graze the top of his head. No matter how far he went, the snow followed close behind, blocking the way back. Henry's movements grew slower, more sluggish, until he could no longer outrun it, and that white frost began piling up around his boots. He felt the fight leave him, his breathing weakened, his heartbeat slowed.

Then, from the corner of his eye, he saw it—a single snowflake, delicate and perfect, drifting down from the ceiling above. His breath caught in his throat as he watched it fall, impossibly slow, through solid rock. It glowed faintly in the dim light and Henry’s eyes followed its descent, almost hypnotized, until it landed softly on the ground. On something dark, something that wasn’t stone. He crouched down, his stiff knees cracking in protest, and wiped away the snow, his fingers brushing against a cold, unyielding surface.

A hand.

His hand.

His breath caught in his throat. He was looking at himself, at his own lifeless body, crumpled and broken, half-buried in the snow. The wounds were horrific—deep gashes and punctures that were draining the life out of him-- and the realization hit him like a sledgehammer.

This wasn't real.

The snow, the cold, it was all in his head, growing blurry as his brain ran out of oxygen. And the cavern wasn’t just familiar—it was the place he was dying, right now, in the real world. The place where his body was lying, bleeding out into the cold ground, his blood darkening the stone ground.

For a third time, panic surged through him, but it was laced with a deep, bone-weary exhaustion. The wind howled louder, and now Henry could make out voices, battle cries, screeching and yowling in twisted satisfaction. The snow now poured into the cave through the solid ceiling above, burying everything in its path. He wanted to claw his way out, to escape this nightmare, but his limbs wouldn’t respond. The snow was too thick, too heavy, pressing down on him from all sides. As his vision began to blur, the walls of the cave pulsed, breathing with a life of their own, in tandem with his own slowed breaths. The snow continued to fall, endlessly, burying him, until all he could see was white. And then, from the heart of the storm, he saw a figure—a tall, imposing silhouette that moved with unnatural grace, cutting through the blizzard as if it were nothing. Henry tried to focus, but his mind was slipping, the edges of his consciousness fraying like old cloth.

His final thoughts drifted to Bran. A deep guilt welled up inside him. He wouldn’t make it home for Christmas this year. He wouldn’t see his boy’s face light up when he opened his presents, wouldn’t hear his laughter echoing through the house. Regret gnawed at him, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. In his last moments, as the darkness closed in, Henry barely registered the sharp pain in his chest—a bite, cold and searing, as if winter itself had latched onto his heart, and his eyes froze over with unshed tears until the world faded and he breathed his last.

In a long-forgotten catacomb in Wales, as the last drop of Henry's blood soaked into the humid ground, something ancient stirred. Beneath the layers of earth and stone, within the crypt that had long been forgotten, a pair of eyes snapped open. After centuries of entombment, something awoke. The blood of the dying hunter seeped into its consciousness, filling it with the remnants of Henry's life, his memories, his regrets. And once the blood had ran dry, the ancient knight rose from his tomb, his eyes burning with a cold, unholy fire.

He tore through the killers, the blood-thirsty beasts who had chased their prey to the ancient tomb, splattering the walls with their undead blood that burnt to ash, until none were left. Then, he looked down at the broken body of the hunter who had unwittingly become his saviour. With a grim sense of purpose, the knight knelt beside Henry’s lifeless form. He whispered words in a dialect long dead, a prayer, perhaps, or a vow. Then, with a reverence reserved for fallen comrades, the knight lifted the hunter’s body and carried him deeper into the crypt, where heroes were once laid to rest, where the knight's own tomb stood, broken apart from within. The hunter was gone, his spirit entwined with the ancient knight’s own, but his legacy would live on, honoured by one of the very creatures he had once sought to destroy.

The knight sealed the tomb with a final, solemn gesture, then left the catacombs behind and stepped out into the warm summer night, into a world which had long outlived him.

[tommarvoloriddlesdiary]

Hermione watches Harry carefully, studying him like a hawk. “And are you scared of him?”

Harry wants to shake his head no, but he looks down and avoids her eyes instead. “A bit, yeah,” he admits and takes a shuddered breath. “When I see his wand or when he’s close enough to kill me with his hands...”

When he looks at me like he’d like to kiss me. When he speaks in parseltongue, and I no longer know if he’s saying the weather is nice or that he likes my eyes...

"...I'm scared of him then."

Scared of Tom Riddle.

[myymi]

Knuckles and Tails teaming up to lecture a reckless Sonic

sonic: tails don't be like that!

tails: i TOLD you not to run into the field SEVEN. TIMES. and what did you do?

sonic: c'mon, little buddy

tails: don't 'little buddy' me! that was too risky, sonic!

knuckles: i have to agree. that stunt was incredibly stupid.

sonic: come on, it turned out fine!

tails: and if it hadn't?

sonic: i would've figured something out

knuckles: you should always have a backup plan, sonic

sonic: you guys are my backup plan

tails: your backup plan is going to kill you one day

[thearchertheprey]

I was saving this. Split it with me?

[clover-doodles]

why did no one tell me hermit-a-day may was a thing

welp gotta draw 10 hermits to catch up now brb

[thefollow-spot]

"Untitled" (Trophy)

Gen ● T+ ● WC: 100 ● Warning: Violence // Written for @merlinmicrofic 2024, for the prompt 'Tradition'.

---

Mud underfoot—post-storm damp. Warm, not cold. Arthur’s boot lifts, slicked heel to toe with blood.

A boy, dead at his feet: pulled drowned from the well, with a cracked skull and sticky, congealing hair clumps. A Druidic medallion crosses his dislocated shoulder.

“Orders?” The knight’s sleeve: soaked to the elbow.

Arthur can’t feel his knees. Spare the children.

In one squashed eye, the boy’s pupil runs into iris, floating in a red socket. A spoon of jelly. Arthur—with a mouth of hot, pre-vomit bile—snaps the trinket off his white neck. A trophy for his father. It’s tradition.

[gothsuguru]

pspsppsps….. kairo……………

….. thoughts :33c……..

(also ily and i miss you and i hope you’re taking care of yourself!!!! reading manga and relaxing and eating well <333 mwahh)

FIRST THOUGHTS . THAT MAN IS MOTHERFATHER……… a milfdilf if i’ve ever seen one the motherfatherism at first glance is LITERALLY off the scales…………… ALSO THE LOWLIDDED EYES + SMIRK + SLIGHTLY CONDESCENDING YET KIND POSE……… AND THE WHITE HAIR??? RAHHHHHHHHHH I NEED HIM BADDDDDDDDD

i am looking at Him . Respectfully <3 omg but he really does look SO cool i LOOOOOOOVE the red & black combo it’s The Most Elite combo known to mankind and then couple that w white long hair??? deelishus <333 AND THE LIONDNNDNDNDN satoru gojo is that you…

ALSO :3 ILY AND I MISS YOU TOO <333 idk why but my energy for typing has lessened over the weeks so i’ve just been reading hehe (YOU NEEEEEEEED TO READ THE ELUSIVE SAMURAI & SAKAMOTO DAYS… best mangas ever created they have the kairo stamp of approval i cried during elusive samurai & was Shook by sakamoto days at every turn god these mangas are so good omfg………)

ANOTHER ALSO!!!! HOW ARE YOUUUUUUU FRIEND :3 i hope everything is going well & that you’re resting up hehe i read the dilfguru drabble and my heart and brain are healed TRUST ME i’m gonna be sobbing in the tags of it soon like #Trust #Me

^ also you ^_^

[justlookatthosesausages]

The first week in Northuldra camp for Elsa had been kind of weird. One one hand, she was delighted to live with the tribe, fulfilled in her new role, freed from the walls that had locked her soul. And yet, on the other hand, despite all of those beautiful feelings, she couldn't find sleep. Now was it because she was excited by her new life, or because she felt nervous about it?

She let her thoughts wander, or rather float over each other, as she curled with her knees against her chest, sitting down a tree in the cold middle of the night.

"Is the lavvo uncomfortable?" Asked a gentle, yet teasing voice, behind her. In that simple question, one could tell that the person was caring, not accusing, but wanted to bring humor to lighten the mood.

Elsa snapped up and twirled her head around, facing Honeymaren. The Northuldra smiled at her to appease her apparent stress.

"No, not at all." Replied the blonde immediately, making it clear that she liked it here. "It's perfect. You guys are so fast at building them, it's such a--"

"And you are so fast at switching the mood to avoid people worrying." Analyzed Honeymaren with the same warm smile.

She saw that she hit right when Elsa closed her mouth, and lowered her gaze, back to curling on herself. Her tense shoulders however slumped a bit. "Sorry."

"There's nothing to be sorry about. What is going on? Are you okay? Well of course you aren't. But do you want to talk about it?" Asked the brunette.

Elsa breathed in longly, to give herself courage, and Honeymaren could hear that she had been crying. It was hard to see the remnants of tears on her face and her slightly red eyes in the low light of the Moon piercing through the birch branches, but easy to guess.

Honeymaren checked around to make sure nobody would disturb them, and sat down in front of her.

"It's not nice to spy on people." Smiled Elsa. She had thought this spot of the Forest would be far enough to be alone.

"I'm not spying, I'm standing guard. I told you, I love to do it now that the mist is lifted. Which is thanks to you," she added as a compliment to ease her mind.

Elsa kept sniffing, not answering.

"And," added Honeymaren, "word of advice, if you don't want to be spotted in the dark when you want to isolate yourself from the camp..."

The blonde lifted her head.

"Avoid wearing sparkling outfits to sleep." Grinned Honeymaren.

Elsa blushed intensely, recowering a bit on herself, though she couldn't help smiling when she saw her white pants. She had a point.

"Alright." She replied quietly. "I admit that it's a bit too extra."

She then frowned at her. "Don't tell Anna I said that."

"I'll have to see her for that." Chuckled Honeymaren.

At this sentence, tension fell in the clearing.

"...Is she the reason of your nightmare?" Understood the Northuldra.

Elsa rubbed her bent legs with her thumb for a moment, then opened up. "Not nightmare. Insomnia."

"So that's the reason why you're outside." Nodded Honeymaren, now that Elsa had finally answered her initial question.

Elsa nodded slowly in return. "I..."

Chestnut eyes shining in the Moon light gave her support.

"It's been like this all my life. Well... Not all. When I was a kid, it was alright..."

There was a silence.

"Then, for the past 3 years, after the Thaw, Anna helped." Tenderly smiled Elsa.

That's all she said, however. But Honeymaren didn't need more to understand the feeling. She had a brother, and she may have met Anna for a few hours, she instantly was wrapped by her caring aura.

"So, the insomnia is back?" Nuanced the Northuldra.

Another sad nod from Elsa.

Honeymaren looked around. "I have to go back to my watch." She said, and for a fraction of a second, Elsa thought that she wouldn't help her. "Do you want to come with me?"

The blonde's heart made a leap.

"M-me?"

"Yes, you." Snorted the brunette.

"But I know nothing about standing guard."

"Nonsense. You were able to spot and stop Bruni on your first hour here, you can manage a few reindeer getting too close to the river. Besides, you ride the Nokk, don't you? You can even gather the herd if needed."

The blush was clear on Elsa's cheeks, even in the darkness, and she had a bashful smile.

Honeymaren's smile was even wider in reaction. "Come."

She sat up, and held her hand to help her stand up. Elsa sniffed one last time, resolutely, and smiled as she lifted her hand to put it in hers.

When their palms touched, Elsa's skin wasn't cold anymore.

[erumai-maadu]

HI HI my birthday is on friday so i was thinkin maybe i could write some prompts and post them on/around my birthday?? (100% stole this idea from char muhaha)

so yeah!! if you’ve got smth for me to write go ahead and send in an ask!!

any ships or characters that i’ve mentioned on the blog before are fine with me. i’m best at writing team gai and nejiten but i’m absolutely down to go out of my usual zone and write about the other konoha kids, sand siblings, senseis and/or some gaalee, shikatema, sasusaku, etc.

[sev-on-kamino]

30 Days of Blossoming Romance

Day 1: Accidental Hand Touching (prompt list here)

Wrecker x fem!reader

warnings: none, reader has a small injury, no details though, it’s fluff your honor!

word count: 819

“I gave you a direct order!” Hunter was yelling as the pair of you raced down the mountain, a battalion of clankers in pursuit.

“And I followed it! I just got lost!” You argued. It was technically true. You had taken a wrong turn, and decided you might as well double back for Hunter.

“We both know that’s not true!”

“Wrecker, I’ve got him, light it up!” You ignored Hunter’s fussing completely. He could chew you out from the safety of the Marauder.

“Thought you’d never ask!” Wrecker replied gleefully.

“Wrecker, you were in on this?” Hunter groaned.

“Less fussing, more running!” You shouted, cutting him off and ducking a blaster shot.

“This is not over!” Hunter bit back with a growl.

You rolled your eyes even though he couldn’t see them, as the rumble of explosions chased towards your position.

“Tech, get airborn, we need a pick up!” Hunter’s irritation couldn’t have been more clear.

“Locking in on your signal,” Tech replied, not letting on that he’d probably heard the entire bickering session.

“Left!” You took a sharp left leading Hunter towards a ridge where you could step into the Marauder without Tech needing to land again. Right on time, the ship hovered at the edge, the gangplank lowering to reveal Crosshair, who provided cover fire. You and Hunter threw yourselves into the ship and collapsed onto the floor. You struggled to take a breath, as the hard floor knocked the air out of you.

“Nice of you to join us,” Crosshair quipped, popping off a few more shots for good measure, as Tech closed the door, and made a sharp turn away from the mountainside. He turned to you, and offered his arm to help you up.

“Did you see that fireball?!” Wrecker exclaimed, eyes trained on you, as he hauled Hunter to his feet. “It was beautiful.”

“It was amazing, Wrecker,” you huffed, bent over, struggling to catch your breath. “Absolutely perfect placement.”

He beamed at you, before frowning. “You’re hurt.”

“What?!” you and Hunter shouted simultaneously. You straightened up with difficulty and looked down frantically to find a nice little blaster wound in your side.

“Great,” you said flatly, shuffling towards the corner of the ship that you’d turned into your med bay.

“Tech,” Hunter called. “Doc’s hurt!”

“I can handle it on my own. I’ll slap some bacta gel on it, and it’ll be fine,” you waved him off. “I’m fine, Tech!”

“Fine, when you’re done with that, I want you front and center in the cockpit, so we can discuss your listening skills,” Hunter was quite intent on this lecture that he’d no doubt been planning since he saw you back in that base.

“I warned you he’d be mad,” Crosshair said, heading towards the cockpit.

“Yeah, yeah, I remember,” you grumbled, heading the opposite way.

The pain in your side was noticeable now, but you were in no hurry to get an earful, so you stopped by the crate of ration bars on your way to your little corner of the ship, and flipped the lid open. You reached for one of the good bars, only for your fingers to meet Wrecker’s.

“Oh! Sorry, Wrecker. I’m so out of it, I didn’t even hear you behind me,” you apologized.

“It’s ok, sorry for getting you in trouble with Sarge,” he said offering you an apologetic smile.

“Don’t worry about it. He would have found something else if not this,” you grinned up at him. The sincerity in his smile made your heart clench, and you looked away only to realize your fingers were still touching.

Wrecker noticed too, and picked up the ration bar, offering it to you.

“Here, you have it since you’re hurt and all.”

“I don’t know, Wrecker, that explosion was awfully deserving of one of these,” you trailed off.

He grinned at you. “It was beautiful, wasn’t it? Reminded me of you.” Realizing what he’d said, he laughed nervously and looked away. His eyes darting back to see your reaction.

“An explosion reminded you of me?” You smiled up at him, one of your eyebrows raised. You were flattered by the strange compliment because you knew he meant it.

“Ah, cyar’ika, I’m sorry,” he started only for you to cut him off.

“Why? You like explosions, and if a massive one like that made you think of me, it’s a good thing, yeah?”

His shoulders drop in relief, as he grins.

“You always know what I mean, doc!” He replies, pressing the bar into your hands, letting your fingers brush against each other again. He lingers a moment before pulling back and grabbing a different bar. “Come find me when you’re done patching yourself up, and I’ll help you hide from Hunter.”

“It’s a date,” you smile, opening the wrapper with your teeth and taking a massive bite. Wrecker nods and salutes you as he leaves you to it.

[password-door-lock]

Unknown doesn’t really care about you. That’s been his conviction from day one, the truth to which he has clung with a vice grip throughout his acquaintance with you. He doesn’t care about you, he doesn’t care what’s convenient for you, and he doesn’t care about your feelings. He certainly doesn't care that you've been restless all night, waking up at odd intervals to sniffle for a bit before returning to your tossing and turning. He supposes that he does care if you’re able to help him fulfill his plan, though you’ve already thrown a wrench into it once by refusing to enter the code correctly at the apartment. He had no choice but to bring you back to Magenta, which may have been a bad call, but Unknown has about as much patience for surprises as he does for liars— which is to say, none at all— and your inability to listen forced him to make a snap decision on the spot. 

Presently, he's working at his desk, and you’re asleep on the couch, stirring and whining occasionally in what he imagines is discomfort. He wonders if you're experiencing something akin to the nightmares that plague him when he forces himself to rest, but then goes out of his way to dissolve the thought. Unknown doesn’t like to linger on his own pain. Why would he? So instead, he watches you sleep fitfully. After a few minutes of this, you blink awake. You sit up, looking around frantically. “Did you have a bad dream, prince(ss)?” Unknown asks, amused despite himself. You look adorable even in the faint light provided by his monitor, with your eyes wide and your head swiveling comically from side to side.

“No; don't worry,” you reply, “But my throat hurts, and my nose is all stuffed up— I think I might have a cold or something.” That much is obvious from your voice. 

Even so, Unknown’s fingers pause where they are above his keyboard. In fact, his whole body freezes. He’s stiff, unsure of how to handle the situation. If you have a sore throat and a stuffy nose, then you’re almost definitely sick— Unknown doesn’t have time to process all the reasons why he doesn’t like that thought. He only allows himself to acknowledge the fact that it irks him. “You’re sick,” he informs you, trying not to sound nervous. It’s important that he maintains a calm tone in order to maintain his iron grip on the situation. 

You’re already starting to tremble so obviously that he can see it even from his vantage point across the room. What reason do you have to be trembling? Unknown wonders. He’s the one who might get sick as a result of your negligence— he’s been in here with you all night, breathing your air and touching things you’ve also touched. If you’re sick, then there’s a pretty solid chance that Unknown is going to be next— he growls, annoyed at the thought of losing progress with his work for something so pointless. If his head gets foggy with fever, he’ll work a lot slower, which will doubtlessly cause problems for him in his quest for revenge. It pisses him off that this is something over which he has no jurisdiction— you might be at the mercy of his whims, but your illness is not. 

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out. He should feel good that you’re apologizing, taking responsibility; he should enjoy the knowledge that you’re shaking in fear of how he might respond to this latest inconvenience. Yes, you should be sorry, shouldn’t you? You’re the one who brought some bug into the intelligence room, after all. 

But, inexplicably, Unknown does not feel comforted at all. “Don’t waste time apologizing,” he snaps. It’s always grounding to snap at people— it reminds him that he’s in control. Of course, you do that well enough on your own; you make your devotion obvious with every thoughtful gesture and every offhand word. It’s almost cute, the way you bend over backwards for him. 

Before he can tell you what you should start doing in lieu of telling him you’re sorry, you lapse into a prolonged period of violent coughing. “Sorry,” you choke out again once you’re finished. 

“Okay.” Unknown doesn’t even bother telling you not to apologize again. He’s annoyed that you’re sick, but he’s even more annoyed that he has to stop working to help you deal with your emotions. Can’t you handle your feelings on your own? Why would you rely on him for something like this? Wouldn’t it be easier for you to just sulk in the corner without making a peep? But Unknown concedes that in all other cases, your reliance on him is a good thing. It makes you easier to control. 

Maybe this is a necessary sacrifice, he decides, and that’s what’s compelling him to continue this discussion. If he handles your feelings neatly, you might follow his instructions better, and he can spend his time on more important things. If he lets you stew with your strange guilt, especially when you’re trying to recover from a cold, then he’s going to have to deal with it later, when your emotional and physical condition are both significantly worse. Unknown isn’t interested in that. 

“Is there anything I can do to help you?” You ask, as if he hasn’t already made it clear to you that there isn’t.

Unknown is beside himself. What are you talking about? How could you possibly help him? You can barely carry on a conversation without losing your train of thought in a fit of coughing. “No. You don’t need to worry about that,” he tells you flatly. “Just keep quiet and rest so you get better fast, hm? I don’t want to deal with a sick assistant any longer than I have to.”

“Are you sure?” You ask. Though he doesn’t understand why, Unknown is suddenly very glad that you’re feeling well enough to pester him. “There’s gotta be something I can do.” 

“I just told you what to do,” he reminds you, “So maybe you should start listening before you regret it.” 

“You’re threatening me? Even though I’m sick?” As if your feigned shock wasn’t annoying enough, you take the liberty of pretending to cough into your hand. Of course, this fake cough soon turns into a fit of very genuine coughing— good. It serves you right for trying to mock him. 

“Mhm,” Unknown hums, "Now, why don’t you try to follow directions instead of talking nonsense?” It puts him at ease to play this game with you. He doesn’t have to contend with any emotions he may harbor about the situation if you’re up for a verbal sparring match, and he’d never pass up an opportunity to assert his control. 

“Whatever you say.” You salute him, then sneeze obnoxiously into your elbow. For how long, exactly, is he going to have to deal with this behavior? “What did you want me to do, again?” 

“Now you’re just looking for attention,” Unknown decides. He has no idea why you’re so committed to the idea of working when he’s giving you not simply the license, but the direct order to rest, though it doesn’t really matter. He’s already told you several times that he doesn’t need you to work on anything, and besides, he wants you to feel better. But that makes sense— of course he would want his assistant to be functioning normally. His motivations are entirely justifiable. “Go lay back down and don’t bother me again.”

“Okay, okay,” you hold up your hands and gaze at him with adoration. “I get it! You don’t want me to work! Who are you and what have you done with Unknown?” He just glares at you, waiting for you to finish giggling at your own joke. “But, sure, whatever, I’ll try to rest. Feel free to wake me up if you need something, though. I want to help you if I can.” 

Unknown rolls his eyes. He’s glad to have such a loyal assistant, but you seriously need to stop challenging his authority like this. “I’m not going to tell you again,” he warns. 

“I said okay! Look, here I am resting.” After another prolonged coughing fit, you make a big show of laying back down on the couch and closing your eyes— and if Unknown finds himself smirking a little at your fake snoring noises, that’s none of anybody’s business.

[bendwill]

You all have no idea but man’s really had the worst kind of break up imaginable

[nocentis]

Possession & Indoctrination

╳┆Possession Link is a magic somewhat similar to Sensory Link. It is a dark magic often used to manipulate and control its target. Unlike Sensory Link, the spell only affects one person at a time—the receiver. It can isolate and strengthen a specific group of emotions of the user's choice. It can also be used pseudo-telepathically, disguising the user's voice and allowing them to be heard only by the receiver.

The link feeds off of its host's magic energy, meaning the user does not need to constantly expend magic to sustain the link.

╳┆Initially, Ultear’s Possession Link amplified Jellal’s preexisting emotions of hatred, anger, and helplessness. This influx of raw emotion allowed him to access his magic energy for the first time. At the same time, he began to hear the “Ghost of Zeref” promising him true freedom in the form of Heaven.

Jellal opened himself up to the Possession Link, which strengthened its initial effects. Hatred manifest coupled with a magic that severely lowered any remaining inhibitions resulted in a radical shift in both personality and morality. From there, Jellal carried out what he believed to be Zeref’s will by sending Erza away, trapping & manipulating the others, and spending the next eight years completing the R-System.

The Possession Link remained mostly dormant after its initial conception, only serving to stoke those same feelings of resentment and obsession that would keep him focused on the tower’s construction. If ever his mind should stray, if ever he should doubt his “divine mission”, the voice of “Zeref” would whisper to him again, coaching him to continue and promising that Heaven awaited himself and his “friends”. The link served as a tool to keep him focused & reinforce indoctrination, but it did not have omnipotent control over his actions.

When Wendy pulled Jellal from his comatose state, the Possession Link was severed. Those emotions that completely engrossed him for so long were still present, but they weren’t anywhere near as intense. They were manageable.