#I love putting this man through unimaginable horror

[vash-in-the-void]

*slides in*

WIP for WIP Wednesday @organsoutsidelovinglydescribed

Can you guess which prompt I’m doing (spoilers it’s one of my favourite songs)

I tried tagging the basics but let me know if I should tag something, I’m pretty desensitized to this stuff but I know not everyone is

[shushmal]

Stranger to Myself (I think of Home)

For @steddie-week Day 5! Rated T — Check the tags and content warnings!

Eddie is a monster.

Eddie started watching Steve because it didn’t hurt so bad. Didn’t hurt like it does with every glimpse he catches of Wayne, of Dustin. The people who had loved Eddie when he was Eddie. But Steve—Steve was safe. Steve was a boy Eddie knew in passing glances and high school gossip, a guy who was laughing with his friends in another room at every party, a man who planted his feet and fought monsters and helped save the world. Steve who told Eddie to be safe, because Steve was kind when he didn't have to be, when he wasn't expected to—so Eddie finds himself watching Steve instead.

Because Eddie is a monster, and Steve knows exactly what to do with monsters. Eddie knows this.

To Steve, it wouldn't matter that Eddie is the last little bit of the apocalypse still kicking around Hawkins. Eddie who had been chewed up and spat out of hell at the last second, just before the final dungeon slammed shut, sneaking through the shadows unseen, past the unsuspecting heroes wrapped up in their victory. Past his friends, the people who had tried to keep Eddie safe. Past Dustin, who’s face had already been changed by grief.

Past Steve, as well. Steve, who told Eddie to be safe, and Eddie hadn’t.

Eddie wonders sometimes, what Vecna really had in mind for him. 

But Eddie is just an unfinished experiment, not quite who he used to be, but not yet the thing Vecna had been trying to twist him into, before the wrinkly ballsack bastard bit it and disintegrated into dust like some b-grade horror movie villain written by some unimaginative hack that shouldn’t have even been in the writer’s room.

He’s the last piece of the Upside Down, Vecna’s last monster, but Eddie’s worst crime post-resurrection is a bit of misdemeanor stalking, simple battery, and animal cruelty. A guy’s gotta eat, afterall. It had taken a while to figure out his own exact brand of vampirism, but Eddie’s gone a few years now without killing anything or anyone. He would be proud of it, but instead he watches Steve make dinner and feels sick on the aftertaste of iron and salt still coating his tongue.

Eddie had started watching Steve because it didn’t hurt, because Steve would take care of it, if Eddie ever needed to be put down. Eddie knows this.

So, it didn’t hurt so bad to watch Steve—until it did. 

By then, Eddie was too far gone and couldn’t stop.

His Steve who came back to his lonely castle, days and days after that final battle, after the climax of the story, the end of a legend, still bloody and scorched, none the wiser to the monster peering through his windows, watching. And that was Eddie’s first clue, that was how Eddie first learned that he wasn’t really Eddie anymore—that nervous energy he used to have in life had died with him. Now he sits motionless in the tall pines behind Steve’s house for hours and days, unmoving, as he watches Steve live. 

Sometimes, Steve looks out his window, eyes scanning the treetops like he knows Eddie’s there. Everytime, Eddie sits up a little straighter, like a dog eager for attention. But everytime, Steve’s eyes drift past him, unseeing, searching.

It leaves Eddie—already out of step with life, with humanity—a little unsettled, a little too hopeful. Eddie is a thing that shouldn’t be seen ever again, a dead man without a heartbeat, without breath in his lungs, without a reason to exist and yet still here. He wishes he were still dead. He wishes even more that Steve knew he was there, that Steve was looking for him. But Eddie knows better. Eddie can’t go to Steve, because Eddie is a monster and Steve has fought enough monsters. Eddie doesn’t want to get added to the list. He doesn’t want to do that to Steve.

Eddie sits in the trees instead, unmoving and watching for days and weeks. Sometimes he leaves, to feed. Sometimes he stands in the middle of Steve’s empty house when he’s gone, breathing in the lonely silence. Sometimes, he closes his eyes and dreams.

But they’re never his own dreams.

And he never, ever visits anyone else in their sleep, in their dreams and nightmares. No one, except for Steve. His Steve, who’s dreaming of a summer day, sun high in the sky, sitting on the top of skull rock with a six pack and a cigarette. It’s such a simple, beautiful dream. All of Steve’s dreams are like that. Eddie watches the line of Steve’s neck as he tilts his head back in the sunlight, face catching the July warmth.

Steve doesn’t startle when Eddie sits beside him. Just leans in until his head rests on Eddie’s shoulder. It’s beautiful, he’s so beautiful, Eddie wants to cry.

“I miss you,” Steve whispers, like it’s a secret. He presses a smile into Eddie’s jacket. “Isn’t that silly? I barely even knew you.”

Eddie has to swallow back the emotion filling his throat. “Yeah, that’s pretty silly,” he croaks.

“I wanted to though,” Steve sighs. He leans even closer, hands grasping at Eddie’s sleeve, the back of his shirt, and Eddie wishes they could melt into each other, become one thing, become Steve with just Eddie hiding between Steve’s ribs, in his blood, sitting in the center of his chest right next to his heart. “I wanted to know you. I wanted to kiss you so bad.”

If this were real, if they were really sitting on skull rock in the sunlight right now, if Eddie was human, he would be crying. But here, in Steve’s dream, he doesn’t, can’t. Maybe Steve doesn’t want him to be sad.

“Really?” he breathes instead. “Me?”

Steve hums, his hand sliding down into Eddie’s, fingers warm, soft. “Robin calls you my Great Bisexual Awakening.”

Eddie barks a laugh, throwing his head back. He wants to be sobbing, but he laughs instead and when he stops, Steve is looking up at him, painted dream soft and sweet. They watch each other, Eddie cataloging the specks of gold and green in Steve’s eyes. He’s beautiful. 

But then Steve blinks, and the corner of his mouth turns down, smile falling away. Eddie feels his skin prickle. He feels watched.

“I miss you,” Steve says again, urgent. And then, just like that, he smiles again, and the feeling’s gone, and Steve presses his face once more into Eddie’s shoulder. “Tell me something.”

Eddie tries to shake off the feeling of disquiet, to relax back into the tenderness of Steve’s dream. “Like what?”’

“Something I don’t know.” He’s beautiful, so beautiful, and Eddie adores him, loves him so much.

“I wanted to kiss you, too.”

Eddie opens his eyes, his breath sharp in the silent forest, and watches as Steve sits up in his bed, gripping the blankets tight in his fists. Even from here, in his haven in the trees, he can see the tears on Steve’s face. He never wants Steve to cry.

When morning comes, he steals into Steve’s home, buries himself in the lingering warmth of his sheets after Steve leaves for work. The fading smell of him is intoxicating, even the salty sting of Steve’s tears, and Eddie wants so desperately. Wants him from the pain in his throat, the hitch in his breath, the way he’s been hollowed from the inside out. Everything has been taken out of Eddie, scooped from between his ribs and scraped smooth, an empty jack o’lantern waiting to rot on the front step. 

The wanting is worse than the starving, the thirst. Eddie can’t cry anymore, he isn’t human enough to, but he wishes he could.

Instead, he lays in Steve’s bed, breathes him in, and disappears into the woods behind Steve’s home when he hears the rumble of Steve’s car turn onto the street. He watches as Steve falls into the bed, long gone cold since Eddie has soaked up all the warmth from the blankets in the long hours of Steve's absence. He watches, a monster, as Steve’s eyes glance through the window, eyes on the trees. Straightens up, hoping and wanting, and slumps as that gaze slides past him. He watches Steve’s evening with longing building in his chest, and when Steve slips beneath his covers, Eddie closes his eyes.

“What are you waiting for?” he asks.

Steve is sitting on the edge of his roof in this dream, watching the forest intently. He doesn’t turn his head towards Eddie, caught on a particular spot in the woods.

“You, I think. At least, I think it’s you. I hope it’s you.”

Eddie leans in close, hoping that Steve will turn his eyes, to look at Eddie, to give him that sweet, dreamy smile. “You shouldn’t bother waiting for something like me,” he tells Steve, desperate for those pretty eyes to look at him. “You should be happy.”

“I am happy,” Steve murmurs. He doesn’t look happy. He doesn’t look at Eddie. He watches the distant trees, standing guard. “I’m happy waiting. I think I can wait forever.”

Eddie doesn’t dare touch him, doesn’t dare turn Steve’s head. Even though it hurts. It hurts so bad, so Eddie opens his eyes. In the distance, Steve turns in his bed, chest expanding with a sleepy sigh, and doesn’t leave his dreams.

Morning comes again, and the night falls again, morning and night and morning. Eddie rises from his perch, glides closer to the empty house to steal through the unlocked door. He lays in Steve’s bed, in the shadow of Steve’s warmth left on the sheets. Breathes him in, even though Eddie needs no air. He leaves when he hears the rumble of a familiar engine. Night falls. He closes his eyes.

Eddie watches the way Steve sits on the edge of his roof again, feet dangling, eyes scanning the treeline at the back of his house, quiet and sentry. Like he’s waiting for another monster to appear between the tree trunks. Eddie sits beside him, and doesn’t speak, not even when Steve whispers, only once.

“I miss you.”

Morning comes again, and then night. Sun and moon, wax and wane. The summer heat does not bother Eddie, nor does the winter snow. He imagines building a family of snowmen in Steve’s yard, company for a lonely house. No one visits Steve here. Like they’d forgotten Steve altogether, and Eddie’s the only one left to bear witness to Steve Harrington. Steve who is lonely, who sleeps and dreams and waits for the monster in the woods. Or maybe…

Maybe Steve told them not to come here. Because here is only for Steve, and only for Eddie.

Night falls, and then the morning breaks. Steve doesn’t rise from the bed.

Uneasily, Eddie shifts. Snow slides from his shoulders, landing in heavy thumps on the forest floor below him. He watches as Steve rolls onto his back, arm over his eyes, mouth twisted in pain. Even from here, he can see the tears on Steve’s face. He watches Steve lay in bed the entire day, until night falls. Eddie closes his eyes.

Steve’s dream isn’t a dream this time—a vast darkness instead, stretching long and far. Eddie takes a hesitant step. Water splashes beneath his bare foot. He turns.

And suddenly, it’s like he can hear Steve in his ear, whispering, “I’m happy waiting. I think I can wait forever.”

Eddie turns again, and Steve is there, watching, waiting. Eddie feels the instinct of it, the prickling awareness of being seen. It settles over his skin, sharp and biting like ants. Eddie is the monster, and Steve has found him. His gaze roots Eddie where he stands, water lapping against his toes. The ripples roll away from him, stretching the unreachable distance between Eddie and Steve, distant stars, until they crash against Steve’s feet, and the water settles again, falls calm.

“I miss you though,” Steve whispers, right into Eddie’s ear. “I can wait forever, but I miss you.”

“Really?” Eddie asks. It echoes through the dark. He can see the way Steve smiles, even from so far away.

“Of course,” Steve whispers. “I’m waiting for—”

Dawn breaks through the trees, and Eddie opens his eyes with a gasp. The sound is sharp through the silent forest. Morning mist rises from the pine strewn ground. Steve isn’t in his bed anymore, and Eddie feels himself almost panic, gaze searching.

Searching, until he finds Steve, not even three feet up, sitting above his window on the roof. He stares out into the trees, stares right at Eddie, finally sees the monster in the woods. That gaze raises the hair on Eddie’s arm, animal instinct tightening his muscles, his bones. Steve watches him from his perch on the roof, watches Eddie watch him back. 

He’s the most beautiful thing Eddie’s ever seen.

Because Steve’s not standing guard. He’s waiting. Waiting for the thing in the woods, for Eddie to finally come home.

Eddie shouldn’t, shouldn’t go to him, but now that he knows, how can he make Steve wait a moment longer? 

Steve gasps when he appears, but it’s not fear in his eyes when he looks at Eddie. Eddie feels it again, feels watched, feels seen. Steve looks up at him and his smile is the most beautiful thing Eddie’s ever seen.

“There you are,” he whispers. “I missed you."

[ponderingmoonlight]

Kento Nanami and his wife losing their unborn child in Shibuya (major tw!)

Pairing: husband!Nanami x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,5k

Synopsis: It seemed like a normal evening when you passed out on the couch, not aware of Haruta sneaking into your shared apartment until he pierces his blade through your pregnant stomach. How will your husband react, finding out what happened to you?

Warning: MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING!, if you feel uncomfortable with child loss or it triggers you in some way, please don't read this, heavy violence, heaviest angst but comfort (bc Nanami is the best husband ever), didn't proofread this because it hurts my soul, please note that I never experienced something like that and wrote it out of stories from family and it might be bad

This is like the bad ending to Haruta seeking revenge on Nanami's heavy pregnant wife. You can find it here

Thank you @wifenanami for breaking our heart (I love your requests babe) 😭

Your mind is a blur when you open your aching lids against a harsh light. Damn, everything hurts, you feel like someone has stabbed you over and over again. Your stomach aches so bad…why? The last thing you remember is…

A toe-curling scream coming out of your own mouth. Hands that keep you from falling to the ground. Darkness, unimaginable agony, grief. But why? What happened? Out of instinct, your hands wander to your belly. Weren’t you at home passed out on the couch with your heavy belly laying on the side, waiting for your husband to come back to you?

You were, but there’s something else…

Suddenly, a wave of memories washes over you, memories that make your whole body tremble with overflooding emotions.

“I-I can’t feel her anymore. Shoko, I can’t feel her, she isn’t moving!”, you cry on top of your lungs, hands roaming around your blood-soaked stomach in a desperate attempt to find a heartbeat.

You weren’t fast enough. The minute that blond-haired man with the ugly ponytail stumbled into your apartment and shot a sword directly through your belly, you were lost at words, lost at actions, lost at control. As if frozen in place, you watched as he pierced through you over and over again, your blood spilling onto the cold marble floor, discolouring everything in your crimson blood within seconds.

And hers. Your precious daughter. It was only a matter of time said Shoko the other day. A matter of time until you’d be finally able to hold her in your arms, a matter of time to see your husband putting her to sleep.

But time ran out for both of you.

“Send my best wishes to your husband! Well, you probably can’t do that anymore though…See ya!”

You can’t remember what happened next. How did you even manage to let Shoko know that you’re injured? It doesn’t matter anyway. The look of pure horror on her face was enough for you to know that it’s too late.

“Y-you…you need to save her”, you hush, tears now taking your sight completely.

You are nothing but weak. Too weak to defend yourself, too fucking weak to even move an inch when someone attacks you.

Too weak to save the life of your daughter.

Your daughter…

“Tell me she’s okay”, you mumble into the light above you over and over like a prayer.

Maybe all of this was nothing but a bad dream. Maybe Shoko was really able to use her reversed technique on both you and your precious daughter. Maybe she’s laying in her father’s arms right now, safe and sound. Her father…where is your husband? Is he alright?

“I’m so sorry, (y/n). I tried everything I could but…I couldn’t save her, she was already dead when I arrived…”

“No”, you interrupt her immediately.

You hold your breath. How often did you imagine what she might look like? Your little angel. Oh, you were so excited when you found out you’re expecting your first child back then, Kento was so overwhelmed that he even cried. She was the blessing in a world full of curses, your little ray on sunshine in the dark.

She…She can be dead…

“You were there, right? You saved both of us, right?”

Shoko leans down towards you. And for the first time since knowing her, you see her cry. Not only a single tear runs down her face, but a never-ending waterfall while she holds onto your shaky hand.

You feel numb, want to laugh and cry at the same time, want to scream and to stay silent all at once. This…This can’t be reality. This isn’t how it’s supposed to turn out. You’ve read enough books to know how happy endings work, that the people who deserve it will always find happiness.

“My darling.”

His voice catches you off guard, makes your glossy eyes widen and heartbeat pick up. This is him, without any doubt. Your husband is here.

Gently, he grabs your other hand and leans forwards.

Your breath hitches in an instant.

“Kento…”

Half of his body is burned, bruises cover his gorgeous face. But the worst thing is the unwavering sadness that gleams in his orbs. It hits you like a wall.

The things you saw, Shoko’s words.

Everything is true.

You lost your child at Shibuya.

“I’m so sorry, (y/n). Everything is my fault. I should have saved you, I should have stayed with you, I should have killed him…I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry…”

And then he breaks down on the side of the bed you’re laying in, head pressed against the soft mattress while crying so horribly that you feel like dying right on the spot.

This, everything that happened…Everything is only your fault. You should have listened when he instructed you to stay at Jujutsu High, you should have locked the door like he always said. You are not only responsible for getting hurt, but also for losing the way too young life of your unborn daughter.

She had her whole life ahead of her. Her first steps, her first time saying “dada”, your precious husband buying her clothes, bringing her to school on her first day, comforting her when he first boy breaks her heart only to scare this poor boy to death…

You didn’t only kill her, but her whole future. And Kento’s on top.

“How are you feeling, love? Are you still in pain?”

You don’t even dare to look at him, numb eyes just staring at the ceiling. No, you don’t deserve this man kneeling in front of you, you don’t deserve him even talking to you.

“You should leave.”

Thick silence hangs in the air, Kento’s eyes darted towards you in sheer disbelief. Why would you ever suggest something like that? When he woke up, the first thing on his mind was you. When Shoko told him what happened, that your daughter died and she isn’t sure if you’ll make it, it felt as if a part of himself is vanishing. You, the love of his life, the baby both of you waited for…

“I will never leave your side, love. Not when we both need each other more than ever”, he replies as calmly as possible.

“Why would you say that when I’m the one who killed your daughter?”

Your words hit him with full force, tear the ground from under his feet. It already hurts enough to know you lost your little angel in than senseless battle to that disgusting creature. But hearing that you make yourself responsible for what happened, that you think he doesn’t want to be with you anymore…

“Look at me.”

Carefully, he cups your cheek with his large hand, forcing you to return his gaze. The empty look in your eyes makes him tear up all over again.

This is so unfair, so unbelievable cruel. Isn’t it enough that you’ve lost your child? Why are you plaguing your mind with blaming yourself for that tragedy, why are you even thinking he’ll leave you?

“Let me tell you from the bottom of my heart that I love you more than ever. Let me promise you that I’ll never leave your side, no matter how numb you feel, no matter how often the pain gets overwhelming. Let me tell you that we’ll get through this together. Because you are my wife, (y/n). And even though it rips me apart to know that we’ve lost our daughter to this fucker, I will always be thankful that you survived. You did so well. I’m beyond proud that you’ve managed to call Shoko, that you pushed through and fought for your life. I will NEVER blame you for what happened at Shibuya. And I will love you through everything.”

“Kento…I miss her so much”, you breathe against his hand with so much grief in your voice that it takes him all his strength so not break down all over again.

“I miss her too, darling. But she’s always with us, she’ll never leave our side”, he whispers gently.

“I don’t deserve you…You, you are injured yourself. What happened to you?”

“Nothing but a few scratches. Let me stay by your side, okay? I never want to leave you alone again, (y/n).”

You can’t contain yourself any longer, it seems like the world around you collapses as you let yourself fall into your husband’s arms. Everything is too much, all the grief, all the sadness seems to swallow you whole. But oh does it feel good to lay against his chest, to feel his fingertips stroke your hair gently.

“I will always stay by your side. And so does our little angel.”

Tags:  @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut  @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopstick @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieee @lovelyluna1 @froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @gojosrealwife  @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain  @risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr @kayleegomez @belovedvamp@wifenanami @chilichopsticks @dlwlrmas-world @oikawarz

[cononeillbreastingboobily]

You don't get it, do you?

If you say that Izzy's death was a beautiful conclusion to his arc, that it was kind. You just. You don't fucking get it.

You don't get to say shit like that if you're able-bodied, and then ignore those of us who are disabled, and who liked Izzy, and are now angry and saddened by his death.

Do you think it was, I don't know... A humane way of ending things?

Well. If that's the case then, first of all, I don't want you anywhere near me. Second of all, I want you to sit with yourself and think, but like really think, about why you think it's more humane to kill off a physically disabled queer character rather than, I don't know, let him live out the rest of his life happily, getting more and more accustomed to his disability, overcoming his trauma and enjoying his life to the fullest.

Queerness and disability rarely intersect in media, unlike real life. For a few episodes, Izzy's arc gave so many of us hope. It was a beautiful, dazzling story of a man who's been through unimaginable horrors, who was only just starting to overcome his trauma, finding love, acceptance and community.

Do you know how rare it is to witness a story like that? To see yourself in a character, in a way that you've never felt seen by media before?

Now, can you imagine how much of a slap in the face it was when he died? And a death that, I might add, wasn't necessary for anyone's development, was anticlimactic, cruel, and, perhaps the most importantly, came way too early?

So, you don't get to tell us that we're overreacting after Izzy was killed off. You don't get to do that, because you just don't get it. We're hurting, and for a good reason. Because it's vile, and because if we don't speak up against it, nobody else will do it for us. You can sit in your own little corner, telling yourself that the season finale was good and satisfying, and that you're happy with the way it ended if it's indeed the series finale.

Meanwhile I'll stay here, thinking about how a beloved, queer, disabled character on a beloved queer show was put down with a gun like a horse with a broken leg.

But that was the kind thing to do, wasn't it?

[ovaryacted]

im just thinking how re4 leon would hold me in his arms and play with my hair i miss him

Oh, you and me both anon. Just imagine him, a big strong man like that just cradling you in his arms against his chest.

When Leon gets the chance to lounge and do nothing, he’ll take up the couch, laying his entire body across the length of it. He puts his head on one of the pillows, throws an arm over his head, and closes his eyes. He takes in a breath or two, releasing a deep heavy sigh as he feels himself relax.

His ears perk up when he hears your footsteps coming towards him, not giving you a moment to say what you want before he raises his arms and flexes his fingers in a come hither motion.

You waltz over to him, placing your body on top of his and your head going into the curve of his neck, breathing in the hints of lavender and tobacco that were part of his natural scent. Big arms wrapped around you, giving you a gentle squeeze as his head leans against your own. Keeping you pressed to his body, one of his hands went up to your scalp, massaging your head gently. He could almost feel you purr at the touch, a gentle thrum going through your chest as you dig in closer to him and feel his heart beating underneath you.

Usually, he would be the one looking to you for comfort, enjoying the feeling of you caressing him in a way that he used to only pray for. But this, having you in his arms any chance he could get, he wouldn’t change that for the world. You didn't know how a man like him who’s seen horrors unimaginable, would be able to touch you so gently like you were his porcelain doll to love and cherish.

He gave you a soft kiss on your forehead before giving you another on your cheek, hearing the giggle that slipped past your lips when he did that. You were comfortable with him, despite being built like a brick his skin was soft and warm, like your own mobile furnace.

He felt like home.

You both stayed there on the couch, resting together and basking in the intimacy of the moment for as long as you could. Being each other’s solace, there was no other perfect description for what you both shared.

[davidtennan-t]

May Noble Guide You. Always.

Donna is always looking out for ways to help her best friend.

Major angst but a happy ending! Inspired by this post, because I still think about Fourteen morning, noon and night.

And yes, Skyrim is involved.

1592 words - also available on AO3

-

“Hey, Spaceman?”

“Yeah, Donna?”

A pause.

“Have you ever dabbled in video games?”

The Doctor glanced up from the toaster he was tinkering with, eyes peeking over the top of his glasses. Even after so many years of travelling, living, experiencing, he was sure he’d never been asked such a question before.

“Hm, not really,” he answered after a second of musing, “never really been my thing, with this face or any of my other faces. Not even the younger version of this face.”

Donna nodded and returned her attention back to her laptop.

An article was open on her screen, which she was attentively scrolling through.

‘Gaming as therapy? Research shows video games can provide distraction and escapism.’

“Oh, wait!”

Donna nearly jumped out of her seat – she still wasn’t used to his sudden outbursts, even if he had been living with them for nearly half a year now, and she had of course travelled with him all those years ago.

Some things never changed.

“Could you announce your brainwaves any louder?” she uttered but turned to listen.

“I once saved Rose from certain death by playing pinball,” the Doctor explained, “true story. And I did have a run-in with Iwatani Tohru when an alien invaded his base model for Pac Man… lovely bloke, he was. There was also that time I tried to stay with the Ponds, played on something called a ‘Wii’. Oh! Yaz once challenged me to a game of Tetris – I wasn’t very good at it.”

Somehow Donna knew that last part was a lie by the way his nose scrunched up. She shook her head in amusement.

“I won’t even ask,” she smirked. The Doctor smirked back and returned to his tinkering.

As she continued to read the article, listening to the sounds of the toaster slowly being dissected, Donna wondered if the idea forming in her mind would be worth it.

She would do anything to help her best friend. Even if they’d found ways and means to help him in this ‘semi-retirement’ period, it didn’t hurt to try new methods.

“Why’d you ask?”

Donna glanced up to the form of the tinkering Time Lord again and smiled.

“No reason, just curious… Rose dabbled with gaming for a while, but I don’t think it’s really her thing.”

The Doctor’s expression formed acknowledgement, just as a couple of screws fell onto the dining table.

“By the way, you know what happened last time you tinkered with that toaster. You can apologise to the fire crew this time, not me,” Donna smirked, “anyway, it’s time for dinner – your turn to make the toasties. And how you’re gonna make them without the toaster, I’ll never know.”

“I’ll use the grill!”

“You nearly blew the house up last time.”

The Doctor rolled his eyes.

Guess it was time to put the toaster back together.

-

A couple of weeks later, the Doctor was riding a storm. It was an invisible one, but Donna could see how hard it was affecting him this time.

Odd little things would begin to happen. His smile wouldn’t be as bright, his movements became slower, and his voice lost its erratic spark – the family were reminded they were living with an old, wounded man who’d been through unimaginable horrors.

It started with a nightmare, this time. Or, maybe it didn’t… Donna told herself the Time Lord didn’t always need a reason to feel the way he did. He didn't need a trigger point.

He’d told her himself – he’d lived a lot and suffered in the fifteen years since they’d travelled together.

He’d lost a lot.

And sometimes, that hit him like a brick wall.

“Doctor?” Donna announced quietly as she walked into the living room. It was just the two of them in the house for the afternoon, but she’d barely saw or spoke to the Doctor since breakfast. He’d hidden in the TARDIS for a while, but then she’d spotted that skinny frame trudging back into the house as she’d pottered in the garden.

And here he was. Sat on the sofa, hunched over, elbows on his skinny legs with his hands hiding his face. His hair seemed messier than normal, and he wasn’t even wearing that waistcoat of his.

“You okay?”

No response.

Donna didn’t hesitate to sit down right beside him, silently letting him know she was close.

Almost immediately, the Doctor uncurled himself with a heavy inhale, realising he wasn’t alone anymore.

Donna didn’t need to see the tear stains on his cheeks to know he’d been crying.

And then, the Doctor shuffled towards her like a wounded animal and wrapped both arms around her, while burying his face into her shoulder.

Donna’s arms wrapped around him in turn without hesitation. She gently held the back of his head, her fingers gently massaging through his hair – he seemed to like that. It calmed him, even if he’d never admit to it.

Silence prolonged for a few minutes.

Donna glanced over at the TV. Or rather, she glanced at the brand-new box sat beside it. A black box with a remote control perched on top. It was funnily shaped, almost like a Sontaran ship.

Obviously, she hadn’t mentioned that part to the checkout man when she’d purchased it.

Perhaps it was time to put that box to use. The box that held these forms of escapism and adventure... maybe it would work, maybe it wouldn’t – but she was willing to give it a try.

“You’re okay, Spaceman,” Donna whispered to break the silence, returning her attention back to the Time Lord, “I’m right here.”

“I know you are,” came the muffled reply from her shoulder – not in his ‘I’m not that dumb’ tone, but rather a proclamation of ‘I’m so glad you’re with me.’

His voice was still shaky and rough, so Donna gently leaned back to rest against the soft cushions of the sofa, while the Doctor followed and tucked himself against her, those long legs curling up like a cheetah after a run. She knew he was feeling rough when he didn’t want to leave her side, not for a while at least.

“M’sorry,” the Doctor said in a muffle. Donna heard the guilt in his voice, and she wouldn’t have it.

“Don’t be so daft,” she said softly, “I’ve told you before and I’ll tell you again. You’re home… and home is where you’re looked after.”

She kept a hand on the back of his head, stroking through his wiry brown but greying hair. 

And they sat like that for ten minutes. A sad but comfortable silence.

And then, Donna decided it was time – time to see if that box beside the TV could bring her best friend a new form of comfort.

“I have something for you to try,” she announced.

The Doctor knew what those words meant. It meant Donna was trying for him. His old, arrogant and younger-self wouldn’t have entertained any such ideas she laid out for him, but now, he did… he wanted to.

“What’s that?” the Doctor asked, sniffing lightly.

“Wait here,” Donna told him, gently easing herself away from the Doctor so she could get up and walk to the TV.

The Doctor watched, intrigued, as the TV lit up and beeps emitted from the large black box, now glowing green.

He didn’t question anything. Not even when Donna returned to him with some sort of controller in hand. He sat up and took it from her when she offered it out to him.

“It’s all set up for you. Rose helped me do it… pick any game you like. I’ll be making supper if you need me.”

-

An hour or so later, Donna hadn’t heard a peep from the Doctor.

All she could hear over the boiling potatoes and the rather noisy air fryer, where odd sounds coming from the TV. With everything prepped and ready, Rose and Shaun due home shortly, she took off her oven mitts and returned to the living room.

There, she found the Doctor, in a very different state to how she’d found him earlier.

He was perched on the edge of the sofa, but his head wasn’t in his hands this time.

Instead, his long fingers were gripping the controller, his tired but intrigued eyes watching the screen while his thumbs moved the joysticks.

Donna’s heart suddenly felt very, very full.

“Enjoying yourself?” she asked.

The Doctor didn’t stop what he was doing – on the screen, there was a cat-like creature wearing rags running around a medieval looking city.

“I used to be an adventurer like you… then I took an arrow in the knee.”  Came a voice from the TV, between the calming melody of music.

Donna didn’t have a clue about any of it, but she smiled.

“It’s interesting, I’ll give you that,” finally came the reply. “I’m supposed to be alerting some Jarl about a dragon. But I thought the flowers were more interesting, so I’m collecting them.”

Donna still didn’t have a clue, but she nodded.

“Okay, well, not too much longer, mister… Shaun and Rose will be back shortly, and supper is nearly ready.”

“Whatever you say, Mum,” the Doctor acknowledged.

Donna shook her head with a smile and decided to return to the kitchen.

“Donna-”

She stopped, looking back towards the sofa. The Doctor was looking at her, a small smile on his face. A smile which she could see was ladened with an appreciation, perhaps some relief, even.

“This is helping,” he said. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Spaceman.”

[hand-picked-star]

The 13th Annniversary Arshi Fiesta

Moodboard:Historical AU

Whispers of the Heart | Chapter 01

I am not very good at writing ffs. I even read ffs very selectively. But it was an attempt of me to participate in the 13th-anniversary arshi fiesta. I might be wrong about certain aspects of that age and era, but it's a fantasy, so why not?

I don't own Arnav and Khushi and the story is purely fictional and has no relation to any living or dead. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

warning : death,murder,rape,suicide. so it's a trigger warning.

Chapter 1

In the early 20th century, in Delhi, standing in a field where the cremation was happening, the people gathered in their white clothes watching two pyres of fire burning, mourning for the two lives that ended too early.

"Give them peace and make it easy for them to pass the afterlife."

Praying silently for the departed soul, Manoroma Rajput wiped the tears from her cheeks and looked at the small soul beside her. The child hadn't uttered a single word in the two days following her parents' tragic death. Manoroma reached down to take the young girl's hand, hoping to offer some comfort to the only child of her dearest friend, Garima Gupta.

When the son of Jamidar of Laxminagar, Sashi Gupta, saw Garima Roy Chowdhury, daughter of a respectable Jamidar of Calcutta, in his best friend, Jamidar of Santinagar and neighbour Mahindar Rajput and Monorona Sengupta's wedding, he fell head over heels in love with her. Manoroma was so happy that she could have her childhood friend with her all through her life as a neighbour. But alas a few days ago, a dakoit attack had crumbled all her dreams along with the happiness of the eight-year-old child. Sashi was brutally murdered and Garima was brutally raped and murdered alongside her husband and the details that Manoroma pried from her husband, the little girl might have faced the same consequence as her mother if the servant Madhumati ji had not intervened in time risking her life. Madhumati had been with the Gupta family since childhood. And She considered Sashi as her own brother. So, when she came to Rajput's house that fateful night with that unconscious child wrapped in a blanket, Manorama and Madhumati could nothing but cry at the horror of the situation. To make matters worse, the next day, Sashi Gupta's elder brother came to take the child home, only to marry her off to a man old enough to be her grandfather to shake off her responsibility and capture the property of her father. In these days and age, female children had little right over their parents' properties but Sashi Gupta was ahead of his age. He had a connection with the local government and transferred some of the property to his daughter's name. No wonder her uncle was so ready to marry her off in exchange for money. But Manoroma and Mahindar had intervened in time and all but snatched the little girl back to their home and heard her uncle disowned her of the Gupta title. But who was he to disown her, that title was all she had of her parents left.

Coming back to the present, Manoroma tried to comfort her by squeezing her hand, but the little girl didn't want her comfort. She gently pulled her hand away before looking up at Manoroma with eyes so big and brown and broken that Manoroma felt her heart break all over again. A sob caught in Manoroma's throat. It was unthinkable, unimaginable… and yet it had happened. Sashi and Garima were gone, leaving behind their eight-year-old daughter.

The service concluded, and yet Khushi remained still, refusing to speak or even look at those who stepped forward to offer their condolences. Not wanting to put any additional strain on the young girl's shoulders, Manoroma glanced at her husband.

Mahindar nodded, instinctively knowing what his wife had communicated.

"I'll get the carriage "

The ride back to the house was filled with a strained silence. Manoroma sneaked a glance to check on the child quietly sitting all alone in front of her. Worry and concern battled for dominance, little Khushi was such a sensitive child - how would she cope with such a devastating loss?

The next few days, Manoroma and Mahindar were devoted to the child, trying to draw her out of the little shell she'd retreated into. Mahindar always loved Khushi as his own, always wanted a daughter himself but after two sons back to back his dream was yet to be fulfilled. But looking at his best friend's daughter so small and vulnerable, he vowed to himself, that if God gave him a chance, he would do anything for this girl and raise her as his own as she was gifted to him. And then nobody came to take care of the child from Sashi's in-law's side and God fulfilled Mahindar's wish of having Khushi as his daughter.

It was unnatural for a child her age to be so very still. She seemed to sit and stare no matter where she was. In her room, she would stare out the window, clutching the rug doll her mother had made for her to her chest. If prompted, she would wander outside only to sit on the small bench and stare at the trees. She would pick up things they tried to give her, but her actions were more dutiful than enthusiastic. She had no interest in food or any games they tried to play with her. She spoke not at all, though she could be coaxed to nod or shake her head. She didn't even touch her favourite jalebies.

At the end of the year, Manoroma and Mahindar's two sons came home from boarding school in Darjeeling. Manoroma was excited and hopeful for Khushi too. Because he always adored her Akash vai and the chocolates he brought for her every year since he went to boarding school. Sixteen-year-old Akash swept the tiny girl right up off her feet, tossing her high in the air. His ever-present grin faltered and fell when Khushi reacted not at all. She didn't cry out, nor did she giggle with delighted little-girl pleasure. Unsure how to handle her apathy, Akash sat her back down again. Fourteen-years old, Amandranath Rajput and his friend Arnav Singh Raizada looked at the scene in front of them with a forlorn look.

Arnav was Mahindar's best friend Amarpal's son. Mahindar, Sashi and Amarpal used to be thick as thieves. He never thought in a million years that all of his friends would face such horrible consequences. Amarpal's father was a great businessman at that time. Despite not being a Jamidar, Amarpal's father had the same amount of properties as Mahindar's father. But Amarpal's father wasted most of them on gambling and alcohol. Amarpal and Ratna's marriage was arranged by their fathers who were business partners and the couple had a daughter, Anjali and a son, Arnav from their union. Amarpal Singh Raizada was not like his father at all, he was a scholar and was too fascinated with Western education and culture. Seeing his enthusiasm Ratna allowed her husband to leave India to study at British University for a few years, but little did she know that her husband would have an affair with a ferengi, Natalie Smith there. Upon hearing this news, Ratna Singh Raizada hanged herself, discovered by her 12-year-old son. And on the other hand, receiving the news of his wife's demise Amarpal shot himself in the head in a drunken state out of guilt. After that, Arnav's Uncle had all but thrown them out of their home. Till then Anjali and Arnav were living with their maternal grandmother Suvadra Malik. He too was studying with Akash and Aman in the same boarding school and as a result spent most of his holidays in Rajput haveli, actually he lived with the Rajputs when he came to Delhi as his grandmother couldn't bear the sight of him as he looked so much like his father. But thank god, that lady adored Anjali and had no problem with her. So, Arnav was just bidding his time to end his education and do something of his own and be free from his grandmother's torment. Because without education and no properties, he was no better than a manual labourer. And Arnav Singh Raizada was nothing but ambitious.

Amandranath aka Aman moved first, squeezing Khushi's cheek to get a reaction from her awkwardly but failed. Arnav didn't greet the child at all. Manoroma and Mahindar watched them curiously. Their eyes followed the children, watching as Arnav sat on the step beside Khushi without saying a word.

This continued for several days. No matter where Khushi would choose to sit and stare, Arnav would sit quietly with her. He might read or work on his homework, but he was always with her.

On the fifth day, Arnav stood suddenly and said unceremoniously. "I'm taking a walk," he said to no one, his voice unassuming.

He extended his hand toward the little girl.

Manorama watched, surprised, as Khushi first turned her head, staring at his hand with a look of serious contemplation that seemed wrong on such a small angelic face. Then she stood, tucking her rug doll safely under one arm, and put her hand in his.

Together, they walked out beyond the tree line hand in hand.

@arshifiesta @phuljari @featheredclover

<Next>

[snow-acotar]

Through the despair, I see love

"His paintings show a Peeta who Katniss couldn’t reach even when he stood before her"

A short one-shot of Katniss and Peeta post-canon, fluffy and hopeful.

(Spoilers for the trilogy)

------

Peeta loves painting a lot more than speaking. 

So much has always been expected of him, so many words have been put in his mouth. Even now, he doubts his words because they’ve hurt the people he loves. His words and actions have hurt Katniss in ways he’ll never forgive himself for. But his art hasn’t. 

His art is a part of him that’s never been touched by Snow and his poison. The images on his canvases are the purest expression of himself. Untampered by the capitol's lies and deception. 

Katniss loves his paintings. She sees in them the man who comes running at the sound of her screams in the night. She sees the boy with soft eyes, the boy with the bread. The man who painted sweet Rue on the floor of the training center. Peeta who held the woman who sacrificed herself for him; as she died he showed her a sky that Katniss now sees before her on a canvas. 

His paintings remind her of the man she’s grown to love despite the death that has surrounded her. But she also sees the man who she failed to protect. 

Those paintings have harsher lines, razor-sharp edges, and striking colors. 

In them, Katniss sees pain and death. In those blood-colored lines sits a man full of despair. He is faced with having to kill the woman he loves. She then sees him alive, standing by her side, but she does not want him in the way he wishes she did. Katniss sees a man willing to die for her—the man who walked into a forcefield and lived. Crying, Katniss stares as Peeta is lifted into a Capitol hovercraft. 

His paintings show a Peeta who Katniss couldn’t reach even when he stood before her. 

They show white cells, Snow's extravagant mansion, roses that reek of perfume, Joanna, Annie; and many more unimaginable things that Katniss cannot face.

She falls to her knees, seeing Peeta sitting inside that suffocating room in District 13. Surrounded by white walls, faced with people he loves, but his mind tells him they don’t love him back. Just like Katniss never loved him back. She sees Peeta try to push her into the oil. Peeta sitting on the ground, a look of horror on his face as he asks to be handcuffed. Peeta saving her from the mutts, them and himself were both trained to kill her. Yet he didn’t. He cries on the floor, scared of himself, begging to be left behind. 

But past all the trauma and agony, Katniss sees flowers. 

Primroses. Peeta plants them in a garden that sits between their houses. She sees trust beginning to grow, both smiles and flowers blooming. Beginning to smile, she takes in freshly baked bread and the morning sun. She sees herself, smiling back, and she sees hope in her eyes. The last painting is the most beautiful, in it lays- “Katniss?”

Turning she sees Peeta, standing in the doorway with their children. Her beautiful daughter comes running up to her and latches onto Katniss’s dress. Smiling, Peeta walks over and kisses his wife. Both of them gaze at their son who rests in his swaddle.  

In their children’s faces, she sees innocence, hope, warmth, joy, and youth, as well as something else. 

She recognizes it in Peeta as well, the man standing before her is much different from the boy she met in the rain all those years ago. 

Turning back to the painting, she sees the same thing. On what used to be a white piece of fabric, sits a green meadow full of freshly bloomed flowers. Amid the sparkingly grass sits Katniss, holding her son in her arms. Her gaze is directed at the man she loves, he plays with their daughter who reminds Katniss so much of Prim. 

In their children, in Peeta, in his paintings, Katniss sees love.

[lighthouseshepard]

did this jarthur & faroe bit some time ago for my dearest @ferelden-loser and 100% forgot to put it here after i shared it with them. <3 a little ficlet to help us both with chores we weren't doing cjrjjcjrhfjf (also i just enjoy like. aus where everyone is alive and well ok)

"Arthur, can you move please?" 

Without turning his head, Arthur slowly repositions his bare feet off the carpeted floor. Legs clad in the pajama pants he'd been wearing all morning come to rest on top of the coffee table, crossing idly right next to the duster John had placed there minutes prior - a slight he ignores to the best of his ability, lamenting the glass he'd just wiped down.

"I meant," he says through clenched teeth, his voice heard as a mere vibration echoing back to him through the earmuffs he wore. "Can you get up so I can vacuum beside the couch?"

He says something John can't quite make out above the racket of the vacuum cleaner, but he knows if he switches it off, he certainly won't turn it back on again. Squinting, he catches the tail end of I've given you plenty of room formed across his dear, irritably vexing husband's smiling mouth, and he grumbles a long, suffering sigh.

"Fine," he says, angling the blasted contraption between the couch and the table. "I hope I run you over."

"I've already moved once!" Arthur shouts casually over the noise. "It's my day off, can't I relax in peace?"

"What?" John yells right back. "I can't hear you!"

"Possibly because you're wearing ear muffs! Where did you even get those from, anyways?"

"What?"

"Jesus Christ, John-"

Reaching over, Arthur feels about for the switch to the vacuum and flicks it off. The dull roar dissolves into blissful silence, and John exhales his relief.

"Fucking hate this thing," John mutters, gratefully slipping off the earmuffs. "Why did they have to make them so loud?"

"It's honestly not that bad, John," Arthur reassures him as he settles back onto the couch. "Although, I suppose to new ears like yours, it must sound like Niagra Falls."

"It's worse," John complains, glaring down. "We've heard eldritch creatures scream in unimaginable amounts of pain, and yet somehow this doesn't compare."

"I think you're being a little dramatic, darling," Arthur drawls. All the same, he frowns, gazing up from the papers in his hand to stare at a spot just over John's shoulder.

"I could do that for you, you know," he offers. "You and Faroe could take a walk to the park, perhaps? It's a lovely day out for it."

"What happened to I can't vacuum because I can't see what needs to be picked up?" John mutters. "You never volunteer."

"Well, now I feel bad," he admits. "Here, come take a break. You can go over this melody with me."

Arthur pats the spot beside him. The lure of soft fabric against his skin over another round of fighting with some man made horror he still didn't totally understand the functions of seemed much more aptly tantalizing. Thankful for the invitation for a distraction, he takes a seat. Cushions sink back under his weight, all six foot five of his frame folding neatly up beside Arthur. 

"What are you working on?" he asks, relenting to his curiosity in spite of the frustration overloading his senses. Tasks which subjected him to particular types of noise always left him feeling exasperatingly fragile, as though someone had filled his body with shards of glass that shifted each time he moved incorrectly. Even the gleam of overhead lights hurt his vision after a while. They'd taken to one or two windows open during the day and candlelight in the evenings, a welcomed respite. Faroe enjoyed imagining they were camping indoors by the glow of the tiny flames.

"A new piece," Arthur tells him, snuggling up closer. He rests his head against John's arm, holding out the slip of paper for his inspection. 

John eyes it warily. "You realize that makes absolutely no sense to me."

A delighted chuckle answers him. "I know, but I also know you find it interesting regardless. Here, run your hand along the top row."

Studying the inscrutable collection of raised dots against the wrinkled page, John does as requested. To fresh fingertips alive with new nerve endings, each note came across as an individual grain of sand.

"C sharp," Arthur clarifies. "Sounds like this."

He hums the note, mild and clear. Involuntarily John is drawn to hum it back, his tone at a much lower register but no less soft because of it.

"Hey, look at that," Arthur laughs. "We'll make a musician of you yet."

"I don't see why you have to notate new songs," John wonders. "Can't you just memorize them anyway?"

"Well, yes. Eventually. This makes it a little easier in the beginning."

"Is this for the new contract you managed to get?" John takes the paper from him fully now, lost in its puzzle. "Can you... can you play it for us later?"

"Of course, John. You and Faroe always get the initial performance."

"Daddy, John, look!"

From their left they hear the back door clattering open. In she bursts, a bright blue flurry of energetic determination and reddish blonde curls bouncing loose from their tie as she sprints. She skitters to a halt in front of John, one tiny set of fingers already tugging impatiently at his own much larger hand before he has time to think.

"Faroe?" Arthur asks, tilting his head towards her. "What's wrong? You know I can't-"

He trails off unhappily. It lasts for only a split second, and then he's covering it up behind an intrigued smile.

"What is it?"

"I found something," she says gleefully. "John, open your hand."

"Is it alive?" John asks drily, instinctively drawing his hand back. On too many occasions he had been fooled into taking a vast collection of creatures discovered in the backyard into his palm. The slimy ones didn't bother him so much. It was the ones which skittered, all legs and eyes and a resolve to disappear just out of sight.

"No," Faroe mumbles. "Please, just look. It's really neat."

"Alright, fine. Let me see."

Carefully she unfolds her hands, placing whatever lay inside them into John's outstretched palm. He studies it with one raised eyebrow.

"What is it?" Arthur asks, interest getting the better of him as he leans up and over. 

"A grasshopper."

"An orange grasshopper," Faroe clarifies. "I've never seen one like this before! I gave it to John because I know he can describe it to you better than I."

She grins, pleased at the line of her own logic. Arthur sighs, though it's obvious he's trying to force back a smile twitching along the corners of her mouth.

"Faroe, dear," he says patiently, "can you take it back outside, please?"

"But it's orange," she presses. "Did you know they came in orange?"

"Yes, I do. But grasshoppers don't enjoy being inside for too long. He's probably missing his friends."

"Oh." She mulls this over for a moment, shrugging. "Okay! John, can I have him back please?"

"All yours," he says wryly. She takes the unmoving grasshopper back into her own enclosed hands. 

"Thanks!"

Briefly it seems as though she were about to twist and run back out into the warm summer afternoon - but instead she bounces on her heels, and then climbs up onto the couch cushions next to John, pressing a quick peck to his cheek. He barely has time to reach up and touch the spot before she’s indelicately stepping over him to do the same to her father, cautious not to disturb her precious cargo the entire way. 

"Bye!" she shouts over her shoulder as she zips out of view. They hear the door clatter shut, leaving them in an awed silence dotted sporadically by the chirping of birdsong outside.

John glances over, glad Arthur couldn't see his wince at the outlines of dirt Faroe had tracked in all over the freshly vacuumed carpet. Apparently, by her decision, his break was over.

Exhaling more affectionate patience for one single person that he'd ever had in his eons long life, save for Arthur himself, he gets to his feet. Arthur looks in his direction as he rises, lamenting the sturdy press of his body against his. 

"She got dirt everywhere, didn't she?"

"No.

"John."

"She didn't," John lies evenly. "I'm just going to get back to it, alright? Christ, can't I clean in peace?"

"Fine, fine," Arthur says airily, going back to his sheet music. "Don't take too long. I already miss you."

Neither tell the other what they know. Arthur doesn't elaborate on the fact he's distinctly aware of John's lie, but too charmed by his devotion to protecting the one he'd come to care about just as much as him; and John says nothing of the expression on Arthur's face while he stares sightlessly after the whirlwind of his daughter, and the trust Arthur must surely have in him to allow him willingly into their lives. 

Instead, he cleans. This time he leaves the earmuffs off, if only to catch snippets of Arthur's song hummed loudly enough for him to hear, and Faroe’s laughter drifting in from outside.

[sweaters-and-vertigo]

so i’ve seen a lot of people talk about the symbolism of omega leaving lula behind but i haven’t seen anyone talk about what tech’s goggles mean.

in the case that tech is CX-2 (which i think we’re all pretty sold on now), i think that leaving his goggles behind means the same thing as leaving lula behind. i think that both omega and tech are past their own “point of no return” and they’re in it together. because the goggles and lula are left behind in the same place while tech brings omega back to tantiss.

i know lot of fans want tech to “bounce back” but considering the likely brain damage from his fall along with the programming in his head, i don’t think we’re going to get him back. speaking from a realistic psychological standpoint, people don’t go through that much psychological trauma and come out the other end the same way. every person has a “point of no return” and i think tech might be past his.

i guess it just depends on how you want the human mind to be represented. personally, i would prefer a realistic representation. i’ve been through a lot of bad stuff and i changed a lot because of it. i nearly went past my own “point of no return” but i didn’t. my father did go past his. my father’s “point of no return” was when he unapologetically put my life in danger repeatedly for two days. do you see any similarities? and for a long time, we all held out hope he would get better but he never did.

if the writers are going to put a character through unimaginable horrors like what tech probably experienced, the true psychological effects should be there. anything else is just fan service at best but unfair at worst. whatever happens with tech/CX-2, i just hope they do it right.

an example of this being done correctly: powder/jinx from arcane. she had a mental illness, went through extreme trauma, then some more trauma, and then went past her “point of no return” at the end of season one. i love her and i relate to her character so so much. because she’s been through a lot of horrible things just like i have except when she reached her “point of no return” she welcomed it with open arms. it was heartbreaking and beautiful. i wouldn’t have changed it for anything.

EDIT: to be fair to the tbb writers, they did an incredible job representing crosshair’s trauma. i have shaky hands too, which people never get tired of telling me or asking about it. so i do have faith in the writers. ALSO SIDENOTE, i think that crosshair met his own “point of no return” that he didn’t go past. i think that it was when his commanding officer allowed mayday to die and crosshair killed the man. if he had simply continued following orders, we would have lost him for good but he came back to us. everyone has a different event or action that they can’t come back from. sometimes it’s a choice they make or sometimes it’s a trauma they experience but it is a real thing and it should be represented accurately.

[kyufessions]

seoul storm

synopsis: you finally move in with your boyfriend, johnny

genre: domestic fluff

pairings: idol, boyfriend! johnny x g.n. reader

warnings: suggestive if u squint

a/n: happy valentine’s day! just a little something for the holiday &lt;3

general taglist: @jwnghyuns @eaudenana @soobin-chois

snowed in on your first official night in your new apartment with your boyfriend was not how you envisioned your first evening in Seoul. after being with johnny for such a long time and successfully finishing your studies, you decided to make the move from the states to south korea to officially begin building your future with him. search after search for decently priced apartments that weren’t too far from johnny’s dorm but not too close either, somewhere ‘decently nice’ as johnny put it. he insisted on purchasing the apartment instead of wanting to rent one out, saying he’s even grateful enough to have a partner to want to move across the world just to be with him and support his dreams that had become an unimaginable reality only some can merely dream of.

“are you sure having the blinds completely open is okay?” you question your boyfriend as you lay in his arms, your head on his stomach as you curl up on the couch with an old horror film playing on the television.

eyes never leaving the television during a suspenseful part, one you’ve both seen many times, he nods with his bottom lip between his teeth. “yes, baby. i had them specifically put in a two-way glass so we can see out but nobody can see in.” as the upbeat music fades, his eyes move onto your face and he smiles at the sight. finally being able to hold you in his arms, watching a film you both never fail to get enough of, and the snow falling gracefully behind the glass of the large living room window was all he had dreamt of for months- for years, in fact. “i pinky promise.” he reassures with his bright smile, fingers running through your hair as he places a gentle kiss on your forehead.

although you’re used to this gentle giant’s sweet nature, it still brings warmth to your face when he does simplistic actions. to you, he’s the definition of home. for several years, you believed home was a place. it wasn’t until you met johnny that you realized home was a person. meeting him at a random cafe in the upper east side of new york city on your day off of school and work was not in your plans. after finding out about who he is and what his job consisted of, you were nervous of what it would mean to even be friends with someone like him. but you decided hey, why not? there’s no harm in trying. one thing led to another and here you are in 2023, living in south korea with someone you were head over heels in love with. but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“what?” johnny speaking up brought you out of your daze, making you realize you had been ogling at him lost in thought.

you shake your head, your face reddening from embarrassment as you bury your face back into his stomach. “i love you, is all.” hearing him chuckle made your stomach erupt into butterflies, the corners of your lips turning into a smug smile. lifting your face to look at him once more, you place a small peck to his chest as you move closer into him. “i just feel very lucky right now.”

johnny adverts his eyes from the television back to you once again, moving his fingers from your scalp to your chin to lift it closer to his face. “i’m the lucky one, baby.” his lips inch closer with each word, finally capturing yours as he smiles into the kiss.

you start to position yourself better on the sofa, moving your body so you are now hovering above him and your hands are entangled in his dark strands. teasingly, you tug on his hair which earns a low groan from the man below you. you moan in unison when his hands meet your ass with a slap, making you subconsciously grind against your boyfriends hardening member. before you knew it, you were flipped underneath him as he switched positions to take control.

“let’s break in the bed, shall we?” johnny teases as he lifts you up, picking you up bridal style as he walks into your shared bedroom.

giggling, you wrap your arms around his neck before he tosses you onto the bed with a lingering kiss. yea, you could definitely get used to this new life you were about to experience.

[winters8child]

It´s been a long, long time

Chapter 14

I think I only slept an hour the entire night, but somehow I woke up before Bucky. He lay beside me, his head resting on his left arm, the other arm draped gently over my stomach. In sleep, he looked so serene, so innocent, that it was almost impossible to reconcile this peaceful image with the soldier destined to go to war and face unimaginable horrors. Tears welled up in my eyes at the thought of him fighting, perhaps even dying.

I traced the line of his jaw with my index finger, feeling the coarse stubble beneath my touch, yet his skin remained soft and warm. He was beautiful in a way that seemed almost mythical, like the princes from the fairytales my mother used to read to me. I brushed my fingertips over his cheek, marveling at how such a gentle face could belong to someone who would soon face the brutality of war.

His eyes fluttered open, meeting mine with a sleepy, affectionate smile. “Are you watching me sleep?” he murmured, his voice a low, husky whisper. “Did I say anything embarrassing in my dreams?”

“Just the usual,” I teased softly, trying to hide the tremor in my voice. “That you think I’m the best thing that ever happened to you and you don’t know what you’d do without me.”

A soft chuckle escaped him, his eyes shining with warmth. “That’s not embarrassing,” he said gently. “It’s just the honest truth. I’m going to miss you so much, you know?”

His confession broke through the thin veneer of my composure, and I felt tears prick at the corners of my eyes. I didn’t want to make this harder for him, so I forced a smile and leaned in to kiss him, our lips meeting in a tender, lingering touch.

When we pulled apart, his face grew serious, a solemn expression taking over as he took my hand in his. “Listen,” he began, his voice steady but filled with emotion, “I want you to promise me something. I will do everything in my power to come back to you, but while I’m away, don’t put your life on hold. Live fully, and take care of Steve for me. Can you do that, Doll?”

My heart sank at the mention of Steve, and I hesitated before asking, “What should we tell him about us?”

Bucky’s brow furrowed as he considered the question. “I don’t think we should tell him now. If I come back, we can talk about it then.”

His use of “if” instead of “when” made my heart race, a cold shiver of fear running down my spine. I tried to keep my voice steady as I replied, “Yeah, maybe that’s for the best.”

He started to get dressed, his movements slow and deliberate. “I should go now. I promised Steve I’d meet him for coffee before I catch the train.”

The reality of his departure hit me hard, and my heart began to race in earnest. “You don’t want me to come see you off?” I asked, my voice betraying the panic I felt.

Bucky looked at me with a sad smile, his eyes glistening with a mix of love and resignation. “If you’re there, I don’t think I’ll be able to get on that train, and that would make me a deserter. Maybe it’s better if we say our goodbyes now.”

Tears started streaming down my face, but I knew he was right. I climbed out of bed and wrapped my arms around him, holding him as tightly as I could. He cupped my face gently, his lips finding mine in a final, passionate kiss that spoke of everything words couldn’t express.

When he pulled back, his gaze was intense and filled with a bittersweet hope. “Where there is life, there is hope,” he said softly.

“The Hobbit?” I asked, my voice choked with tears.

He nodded, a small, nostalgic grin on his face. “You’re such a nerd, Buck,” I whispered, my tears mingling with a shaky smile.

With one last, lingering kiss, he turned to leave, the weight of the moment heavy in the air. I watched him go, my heart breaking with every step he took toward the door.

The rest of the day blurred into a haze of tears and sorrow. I clung to Alpine, hugging the stuffed animal to my chest as I wept for the future we might never have and for the man I loved who was walking away to face a world of pain and uncertainty.

Next Chapter

[chl-owo-e]

hey! i love your writing! i’m not sure if you’re taking requests for daryl dixon if not feel free to ignore!

but if you are, would you be able to write a fic about when after the line up with negan and daryl’s taken he gets back and the reader and him have a few fluffy moments while she patches him up? and maybe he’s a bit hesitant to being touched after everything he went through but he lets her look after him anyway.

thank you ❤️

Omg! Thanks 😻🫶

Sorry it took so long to respond to this, I had to catch up on the series.

-{Aiding him}-

(Daryl Dixon X Reader)

Summary; Thanks to Jesus, Daryl was brought back safely. But nothing was the same, it was like Negan took every bit of life from him as well.

Warnings; Fluff, small angst, Negan (hes a whole warning by himself), set in the kingdom,

———————————————————————

—Terror could only describe your feelings about Negan. The horrors he committed in-front of you and the whole group was something unimaginable. Nightmares would fill your head of the squelches of Glenns and Abrahams brains. And only when it’s quiet its like you can still hear their voices.

Daryl was the last straw you had, watching him get taken away in that truck while his shoulder profusely bleeds. You couldn’t do anything being held at gun point, you yelled his name and begged but nothing came out of it.

Now you were here, in the Kingdom next to Ezekiel as one of his ‘guards’. Even if it had been a week or so since everything happened and since you left Alexandria in hopes to finding Negans hideout. You never stopped thinking about Daryl. Currently your eyes were fixated on the walls of the theater trying to pass time as you tune out Jerry humming some long lost Disney song.

Not even 5 minutes later Shiva growls in a low tone as she stands up next to Ezekiel. You turn your head to the tiger and watch where she was looking at. Then you look in the open red carpeted hall. First you saw Jesus then the rest of your group came in, your eyes widened in shock as you dropped your sword on the stage. There he was standing there and awkwardly moving side to side on each foot.

It was like everything around you was spinning, and the whole world went silent. Your legs slowly moves by themselves and walk you off the wooden stage. They slowly bring you to a jog towards Daryl, your brain didn’t want to believe it. It didn’t want you to feel relief only for you to wake up back in your bed with everything gone again. You came to a stop three feet in front of Daryl. The 5’10 man looks towards you with a sad smile as tears brink the edges of his eyes.

A happy sob leaves your mouth and you finally close the gap between the two of you. His big arms wrap around your waist hugging you like you would disappear any minute. After some time both of you let up. You look at his face closely as your hand shakily goes up to cup it. You brush his messy hair out of his face and get a clear view of how Negan took care of him.

It wasn’t long till King Ezekiel had cleared his throat and started talking to Rick and Jesus about Negan. It didn’t end well, only with Ezekiel saying he needs time to think over everything while Rick needs the answer now. You understood why Ezekiel didn’t want to go to war with Negan and his massive group. But it was only a matter time till Negans group will go inside the kingdom and disobey all of the rules that was put together.

The king had dismissed the group and they left. Leaving you, Jerry and Ezekiel alone as well Shiva. “I will be in my chambers, come on Shiva lets go take a nap.” The king says before leaving shortly after. You watch as the door closes, you make sure Ezekiel is gone fully before you grabbed your sword that was laying on the floor. “Jerry cover my shift and close up for me please.” You say then run off to the back door hoping that Daryl was still here.

The sun was still glaring through the blue cloudy sky, you ran through the streets as you sheathed your weapon in your belt. Thats when you see him again, his brown hair was shiny in the sun as he watches the gate close in front of him. “Daryl!” You yell his name as you slow your pace to a stop when you reached him. He turns to your voice and his face lights up slightly.

“Daryl, why didn’t you go with the group?” You sweetly mumbled as you stared at him with shiny eyes. “Rick didn’ wan’ me to go, tha’s why.” His voice was grumbling to you as it sounded like his throat was dry. “If you’re staying here for a bit then you can stay with me.” You said before getting closer to him, you reach towards his rough calloused hands. You held them for a second before he pulls away. Your face scrunches up in confusion and you look closely at his face. “Dar’ your face…its bleeding.”

You move your left hand to his face as you tried to wipe the red blood that was starting to dribble down his chin. Daryl flinches and moves away, then he wipes it himself with the back of his hand. “Daryl…” you frown at him, he was building walls against you again. The same walls that you forced down at the Farm, the same walls that you forced down at the church.

“Stop. Stop looking at me like that.” His voice surprises you again after being silent for awhile. “Like what?” You ask with confusion lacing in your voice as it dances across your face. “Like how you always do! Like, Like Im something that needs to be fixed!” He yells this time, bringing some people in the kingdom to notice y’all’s presence in the courtyard.

Your eyebrows crease as you give him a hurt face. You walk closer to his body as he backs away, your hands grip his shirt that lays against his stomach. “Daryl let me patch you up, we can have a conversation about this later.” You try to have your voice calm him down in hopes you could bring him to your bunk and fix him up. He lets out a exasperated breath and finally agrees to you.

Once you gotten to your room, you force Daryl to sit down on your bed. He looks around and takes note on the small pictures that were on the walls, some looked like children drawings and the rest looks like it came from a museum. The art pieces decorated the walls and gave the room a sense of home. Soon you walked back in the room with a small wooden box that labeled first aid. Then you sat next to him on the knitted blanket that laid on your bed.

“Look at me.” You say to him in a whisper as you gently move his face towards you. You focused on his lip and started cleaning it, mentioning to him that it will sting. “You’ll have to get stitches, but by the looks of it, it wont be much.” You tell him as you still focus on his cut lip. “And lucky you I can do it now if you would like.” You happily say to him with a small smile as you finally look at him in the eyes.

Daryl hums in agreement just wanting to get everything over and done with so he can get some sleep. With his confirmation you continue with what you were doing, grabbing the right supplies you start to close the wound. “You know I don’t think you need fixing.” You say lowly as your bottom lip quivers. “I was worried about you Dar’ and hell I’m still worried about you now!” You tell him once you finish things up. You throw everything in the box and grab whatever trash that there was and threw it away leaving the first aid on the dresser next to the door.

“Daryl, when I saw you get thrown onto that vehicle I thought you were done with, I thought you were going to end up like Glenn and Abraham. But when I saw you in that theater this morning, I had thought I was just hallucinating.” Your eyes started to water more and more as you poured all your emotions into Daryls arms. “And when I hugged you, I felt like myself again, Like everything felt right. Daryl, tell me you wont do something like that again. Tell me you wont leave me. Tell me. please…” you were finally crying, all the nights that you wouldn’t dare to let out a single tear were finally coming out to say hello.

His face softened when he saw the pain he had caused you. “‘M sorry darlin’, didn’t mean to make you sad.” He says as he gets up and walks towards you where you stood. He wraps his arms around you again, leaving his hands at your waist and head holding you closer than ever. It tore him up inside whenever he was in that cell with the savoirs. Eating dog food, hearing the same song over and over again, and not to mention the threats he would get everyday about you.

He was scared, not only for you but for whatever the future holds for the both of you. Negans voice would echo throughout Daryls head, stating the same threats that Negan would repeat over and over. ‘Don’t make me get your pretty lady friend, I bet she’ll make a perfect wife.’ Or ‘If you try to escape again Ill get Y/n and kill her right in front of you, or maybe ill have you do it for me.’ Daryl moves his face into the curve of your shoulder and takes a big breath of you, before he spoke again.

“‘M so so sorry Angel.”

———————————————————————

A/N; SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG- LIKE I SAID I WASNT AT THAT PART YET RHGJSKDJ

[milogreer]

blake 🤗

rubs hands together like a supervillain. ↳ send me a character!

My first impression: BASTARD. i’ll kill you. get away from sunshine and bestie or i swear to god i’ll gut you like a fish you FREAK. etc LMAO i remember first listening to his confession audio and going to courtney like “he has been talking my fucking ear off for what feels like three hours!!!” 😭😭 he somehow managed to ride the line of annoying dickhead and actually scary villain and i absolutely couldn't stand him

My impression now: oh my god i have not been this brand of obsessed with a character in years. like. he is in my head CONSTANTLY, i’ve listened to the balance three times and i’m considering a fourth, i have at least two more rambles about him/bestie to post, he’s got the longest playlist out of all my redacted playlists. if he had merch i think i’d go broke. it’s brutal man i want him back so badly. i miss that freak.

A favorite thing: the devotion !!!! say what you will about his methods and i’ll likely agree with you but oh my god his devotion … to see the person you love the most die in your arms over and over again no matter what you do to change it and be so wrecked by it that you get involved with a cult trying to contact ancient gods for just the CHANCE to maybe save them. doing unimaginable things in your pursuit to keep them safe. to be so obsessively in love that it makes you delusionally cocky enough to look the god who just said they shaped your reality in the face and say “i’ll do whatever you need, as long as you save my love.” he's CRAZY

Least favorite thing: he is so fucking stupid LMFAO. like it’s a fantastic character trait to be so blinded to reality because he’s got tunnel vision but you can’t help but be like what the FUCK are you DOING when he does shit like dropping the ward to kill himself via shade so he can do exactly what brachium said not to. truly the guy in a horror movie you yell at for doing something so inconceivably stupid to push the plot forward and i wanna strangle him for it sometimes

Favorite line/scene: sigh … the last scene in “falling for your yandere childhood friend” … the switch on “i won’t be able to give you space” ?? COME ON. it made me sick on my first listen but now it makes me sick in the opposite direction 🫣 ughhh that scene is just so good because it’s really easy imo to go through this audio out of context of the balance overall and trick yourself into thinking like, oh, he’s just kind of a guy. aww. and then it switches and it’s like HUH?? “the things i think about you, how much i want you, it’s the stuff you’re not supposed to say out loud” + “if you pick this, it’ll be all of me - and we both know a lot of that’s not pretty” ?? oh it is so delicious.

Favorite interaction that character has with another: :modcheck: “looking for answers with your dreamwalker boyfriend” when he comes in to talk to elliott and sunshine 😫 i’m such a sucker for condescension and it just oozes out of him here. the patronizing little hums after “can i call you eli?” and “that deathwalker friend of yours really left you out to dry, huh?” and “but don’t worry. i’m sure he’s very proud of you.” >>>

A character that I wish that character would interact with more: I WANTED BRACHIUM TO BEAT HIM UP i’m so disappointed he didn’t get to feel brachium’s wrath bc he deserved to after putting sunshine and elliott through all that bullshit. i hope they face off again eventually somehow

A headcanon: when he turned 18 him and bestie went and got little tattoos out of one of those roulette/mystery egg machines. i haven’t decided what they got or where yet though because i’m too indecisive! he also has a snake tattoo like this :)

A song: I HAVE SO MANY. but the one that kicked off my blake obsession is explode by mother mother so it’ll always be one of the most important ones 💘

An unpopular opinion: kind of suggestive so i won’t Get Into It but i don’t think he’s as dominant as perhaps he would seem to be … i’ve been really back and forth on this though so don’t quote me here

[dangermousie]

Objectively it's wrong that SR sneaks out to meet SY one last time after she finds out that their betrothal is not to happen and that he is to marry Crown Princess, who he thinks she is. Not only is it against societal rules (and how badly it is viewed and can be punished we can see shortly, in ep 4, when SY almost loses his head) and against the promise she gave the Crown Princess, it is unkind to SY - it was one thing to pretend to be the Princess when she thought she was checking out her future spouse and the most that would come out of it is they would meet at the betrothal or wedding and she'd go "pleasant surprise to yooooou!" But she knows now he's engaged to someone else, someone else she's impersonating, so it's going to be horrible for him. But I still don't blame her at all - she's young and confined and in love and just wants to be happy one last time. And honestly, that one mundane sunlit little date is going to help them hold on through some unimaginable horrors later so...

I love this scene of them hiding from someone tracking them just because it's gorgeous and also beause you see SR experience a frisson of sexual awareness. If you think about it, given the rigid confines of societal rules, this is probably the first time she's even been this close with a man who is not her relative, a man whose fingers are touching her mouth, even if it's to hush her.

I couldn't hate the Crown Princess even after she did something indubitably cruel - instead of letting SR apologize to SY for deception, she made her hide in the room, called SY and revealed she's the Crown Princess and his future wife and that girl he's been meeting is a lady-in-waiting she made to dress as her and to never seek her out. The joy on SY's face slowly changing to shock and despair as he sees the Crown Princess kills me and yet I can't hate the Princess - she's fighting for her family's survival. She doesn't want to marry SY, she doesn't fancy him - in fact before it was explained to her she and her brother needed the Kims to survive, she went to beg her father to cancel the marriage precisely because her cousin fancied him and because she knew no happiness for her could be found in a marriage started under these circumstances.

He storms off and we get the confrontation between the cousins, and I just love this shot so much.

You know what struck me during this exchange? It is yet another way sheltering young women is hobbling them and controlling them. EVERYONE knows Sejo is eyeing the throne and will take it once his weak brother dies. But the daughters of the King and Sejo did not. Because they are to be sheltered and protected like hot house flowers but ignorance is not bliss - in that society, it is dangerous and life threatening not to know these things. But a woman who lacks knowledge is easier to control and mold.

A lot of the narrative for Se Ryung is about her losing her faith in her father, her rose colored glasses. The man will make a great king, and he's not even a horrific monster by the standards of the time (yes, he wants to rule but as is made clear, it is also self-preservation. If he didn't go after his nephew, his nephew would go after him and it would be his family on the chopping block) but SR's vision of him as righteous is utterly wrong. The problem that happens is that they taught SR to be virtuous and to have honor and to obey the king and blah blah blah and then her father went "psych! only when it doesn't contradict what I want" and her morality can't take it (in a lot of ways, she is like a female Rin from The King Loves - where the character is full of honor they'd been taught and then finds out the family only means "well, it's all a sham until we can get power" and it puts them on a collision course.)

Oh, and one last comment about Sejo. For all his talk about how SR is the apple of his eye and his genuine fondness for her, ultimately she's a pawn for power the way anyone is. He tells her it's OK the marriage to Seung Yoo fell through, he will get her someone better. But the person he betrothes her to, our loathsome SML - Sejo knows nothing about him as a person; his one "great husband" quality is he comes from a family Sejo wants to ally with.

[v-anrouge]

ok before i get to divorced!rook. yuu as morticia and rook as gomez. it's not like it hasn't been done before, but it's a wonderful concept nonetheless. both so very taken with the other to the most of dizzying, obsessive madness. he scares you, sometimes. there are times his unslakable thirst for knowledge ventures into the bounds of insanity; he'd love to know the type of fear one dons on their face when a loved reveals themself to be a wolf in sheep's clothing-- a very ravenous one, at that. really, he's no stranger to that, and neither are you. he's chased you through the halls of your home with nothing but a brisk walking pace, a hunting knife, his cunning mind, and his love for you! such is the hunt that gives him the best thrill, and he knows it does for you. your knees buckle, not because of the exhaustion, but because of the same desire that overwhelms him too. when he catches you-- traps you to the wall with your sleeve like a butterfly wing pinned down, the horrifyingly gleeful look in his eye is something that spurs unimaginable fear and horror. and it's really just the incentive for you both to do this again and again and again. your heart pounds like the frantic flutter of a dying butterfly and he leans his, verdant eyes full of animosity and his teeth sharper than you've ever notice. he promises you he'll take very good care of his most prized quarry as he presses the hunting knife along the vulnerable expanse of your neck.

and you'll wake up next to him and he'll be a different man-- pressing soft kisses everywhere and anywhere he can. he fawns over you, praises you with endless articulation, and stares at you like you were a god in the flesh. isn't that what you are? his dreadfully, hauntingly lovely spouse? lords. he would kill for you. he would die for you! any pain is glorious as long as it's from you, or with you.

- c

ive never watches the addams family i just know morticia is hot and gomez is the standard everyone should set for and by extension, so is rook

YOU ARE GONNA CAUSE ME TO BE PUT INTO A FUCKINF MENTAL HOSPITAL. im i don't even know what to say rook hunting his spouse down in their own fucking shared house is literally so fucking canon, and the way you described how he is acting towards them AJJSJWJSJSJSJSS im so obsessed with rook loving them in his insane ways because he knows they're just as crazy as him

anyways hhh @krenenbaker