#I want to live in this state of hysteria forever

[imwritesometimes]

the way cutter/lupo were my OG law & order stabler/benson though.....

[heylinfanclub]

Every time I see fictional enactments of people having mental breakdowns I’m like. ‘Is it not normal to do that like three times a week’. I’m going to have. Such major heart problems. My whole life. I just know it.

The swinging between hysterical, sad and mad? The eyes wide rolling around in my damn skull? The struggle to breathe and not choke on your own spit? The sensation that you might just lash out at anyone or anything that gets too close? The existential hysteria questioning YOUR VERY EXISTENCE AND THE EXISTENCE OF CAUSALITY AND WHY THINGS ARE THE WAY THEY ARE AND COULD THEY NOT BE AND COULD SOMEONE JUST TAKE ME AWAY TAKE ME AWAY.

It’s that last part especially. When you start getting. So. In your god damn feels. YOURE BEGGING THE UNIVERSE FOR REPRIEVE ON REPEAT AS YOU SWAY BACK N FORTH LIKE YOURE HAVING THE WORST TRIP IMAGINABLE TRYING TO CONTACT GOD. HELP ME. HELP ME. HELP ME. HELP ME. KILL ME. RUN OVER MY HEAD. NEVER WAKE ME. SEND ME TO HELL ILL PAY FOR MY SINS NOW PLEASE PLEEAASSE ANYTHING BUT A MOMENTS MORE OF TORMENT. that kinda. Shit.

Every day people look at me and tell me I’m fine. I’m smart I’m practical I’m insightful I’m hanging on I’m resourceful I seem GREAT. Hell. My problems aren’t even that bad from their perspective (and maybe they’re right!)

I want to kill them every time and maybe one day I’ll smack someone across the face. Maybe break my knuckles smashing their nose into their brain. I think. I deserve it.

ANYWAY. had another lapse of mental angst because I cannot prioritize without a helper and that means I’m drowning in an infinitely vast array priorities, and should I spare one even a second of my attention, my anxiety comes running at me with a machete to ritually slaughter me for thinking for a second THAT was my highest priority.

I just want. To live. But I cannot. Because my brain doesn’t know what’s important. Except for. Being In a Domestic Cow Like State of UNTHINKING. and it makes me wanna explode my surroundings with my mind.

I’m getting a headache from being stuck in executive dysfunction too long and I donttt liikkeee iittttt.

LIKE. I WAS SUPPOSED TO BE HAVIN A GOOD ONE. I was supposed to be feelin a GOOD EMOTION SPARKED. INSPIRATION. INSPIRATION FOR MY DESIRE TO WRITE A STORY. But instead. I was smacked with that reminder that. I don’t choose what’s important and what needs to be done and if I do it. I don’t get to choose. So why both having dreams? Why bother having wants? Wishes? Why bother? (It would matter more if I had a community that HELPS ME and maybe I have a community that PROTECTS me but that’s. Not the same. I feel so fuckin brainless. My thoughts bounce in every direction but go Nowhere. They loop back on themselves and fight each other like rabid animals. I don’t know how I’m supposed to live with a brain like this. Forever. Happily. Not without reliable support. Which doesn’t exist. There is no such thing as reliable. Everything is temporary. So it’s always fINE THEN you have to FIND A WAY TO COPE. ALONE? FOREVER? It’s bullshit. I hate this shit. Ahhhhh.

I wanted to think Ooo Ahh inspiration for a story I want to write so bad.

But it just went ‘when. When will you write. How. Will you be afloat. Will it distract you. Distract you from friends from life from stability? You can’t even take care of yourself you don’t deserve to do anything until you can take care of yourself and function with others and *you have so many other higher priorities that will kill you if you do not attend to them first*’

Weeps

THERAPIST SAID I DIDNT HAVE OCD. NOT EVEN PURE O. AND MAYBE SHE RIGHT. I CAN STOP THINKING ABOUT IT. IF PUSHED IN THE RIGHT DIRECTION. WHICH IM NEVER. BECAUSE IM ALONE. AND THAT MEANS I END UP RUMINATING TIL I HAVE HEART AND STOMACH PAINS. AHHHHHHH.

Awoooo

Awoooo

I hate it

[theskyexists]

I keep thinking about that Tumblr post that circulated with thousands of notes that was just somebody confidently stating and explaining how pfas is not reactive and therefore wholly ok for humans to accumulate in their bodies and how concerns were just hysteria. It was so Tumblr! 'dumb people are being manipulated with clever words (forever chemicals) you don't want to be dumb right look at this logic I know about chemistry!'

Well PFAS actually very much is dangerous. There's a huge chemical industry where I live and investigative journalists just dug up that DuPont / Chemours knew pfas was a serious health concern in the sixties (small doses killed apes within weeks) that they had leaks that created a huge 'garbage heap' of pfas in the ground(and thus groundwater) and that they should quit using it but only if it didnt hurt the company economically. And they didnt want to tell the employees or the people living aroudn the factory and definitely not anyone who could hold them to account. This was reported in the national news i.e. reasonably reputable.

anyway what i mean is that reblogger was so enormously confidently (they said they'd drink that shit) talking out of their ass.

[timekeepertwister]

Case 0 Type P - File 1 - “The Waltz of Walpurgis”

Location: The Witch’s House

Timeline: PET-K

Date of Record: April 30, 1939

Affirming Witness: C/E-727

Subjects Involved: C/A-95, C/L-33, RC/EO-77, H/?-9 (in multiple denominations)

Timeline Inspection Record Of: “Tower of Sweet Chaos” [Minor Deviation Detected]

Deep into the haunted woods unknown was a cottage that was said to be the dwelling of a Witch. Whether because the temperature setting she had on her wood-burning Oven was too high, or possibly because her sweet tooth for baked goods was as insatiable as her desire for unusual culinary inventory, Cookies often dreaded the building, fleeing from it the first chance they could get to truly live their lives.

On the turn of the Night of the Witches, frequently stated by many wizard academies as once in a millennium (although this has been thoroughly debunked by third party sources), one Cookie would find herself going towards the house to pose a question to the homeowner on her people’s purpose in life. This was White Lily Cookie’s destiny. She told herself, “The banquet is starting… the Night of the Witches, held once in a thousand years... this is my only chance! I shall meet the creators, the Witches! I must ask the question. I will ask them why... why they created the Cookies... and myself. I must learn the truth!” Anticipating the official response of the Witch, she eagerly snuck into the house in search of the kitchen, weaving around rats. Spiderwebs. Mouse traps. BEAR TRAPS. Finally, the ladder. Having found a ladder, White Lily Cookie slowly ascended it. “A stairway to the table. Lofty for a Cookie, but a small convenience for a Witch.” And just in time she did; just as she climbed up to a satisfactory level that matched the banquet table, the worn-out wooden door creaked open to give way to a whole host of Witches from far and wide.

Some as short and pudgy as Gruntilda was claimed to be, while others were tall and slender as if they hadn’t had a filling supper in forever. One Witch even came in with what seemed like four Skeletons awaiting food! As the door opened, the hostess Witch greeted her colleagues warmly with a very raspy voice, “WELL WELL WELL, IT'S BEEN A THOUSAND LONG YEARS! GLAD TO SEE Y'ALL!”

A second Witch responded, “AND WOULD YOU LOOK AT THESE! THEY LOOK AMAZING! Y'ALL BEEN WORKING HARD!” As she dropped her small satchel of belongings off to the side, the welcomed Witch eyed the banquet table with delight as if she wanted to eat everything right away.

The homeowner Witch smiled with delight at seeing her friend admire her wide array of baked goods. Bread, cake, biscuits, pie, tarts, everything was up for grabs… but her pride and joy seen in her banquet spread was her freshly-baked cookies. Having worked tirelessly for the last three nights with the date of April 30th marked as a banquet night with her fellow Witches, the Witch had baked, decorated, and served her intricate trays of cookies for this very night. Now that her work was done, she gestured to her work and retorted jovially, “PHEW! I BAKED A TON OF COOKIES! HERE, TRY ONE! YOU'RE GONNA LOVE IT!”

As the Witches began to go for their sugary bounty, they instantly went right into the waiting collection of cookies and began eating them like no tomorrow much to their delight… but very much to a horrified White Lily Cookie’s dismay. “Impossible...! The Witches... our creators... are... eating... Cookies!” She let out a practically unheard shriek as she turned to the waiting collection of gingerbread cookies and other banquet desserts, screaming in growing hysteria, “WAKE UP! PLEASE! WE HAVE TO RUN!” …no response. She tried calling out to them again, hoping to get a response, “YOU CAN'T STAY HERE...! LISTEN TO ME, WE MUST ESCAPE...!”

Baffled by the lack of response, and movement for that matter, White Lily Cookie looked at the banquet cookies with a sense of hopelessness, “But why... why! Why are you smiling at me?!” Having abandoned all hope of saving these cookies from being eaten, she began to run away unseen, saying to herself, “I must... I must tell someone about it!”

But in her haste, she had not seen a rogue fork in her path and tripped upon it, losing her balance and falling off the table towards a waiting cauldron of bubbling purple dough. Now knowing of her destiny, she told herself, “Why... why did you do that...? Witches... the Witches deceived us… The Cookies... were created to... be eaten! But I was born... and lived... I have my will and consciousness... I can't... accept this fate...!”

The resounding splat emanating from the cauldron when White Lily Cookie fell into the dough had alerted the Witches and an unusually small awaiting raven to the site, knowing that a Cookie had fallen into a cauldron of dough. The homeowner exclaimed, “WHOSE COOKIE IS THAT? LOOK, IT FELL INTO THE ULTIMATE DOUGH!”

The Witch’s guests clamored in reply, as if they weren’t worried about one Cookie falling into a cauldron of dough. “T'IS ALRIGHT! LET'S JUST BAKE IT AND SEE WHAT HAPPENS!”

“YEAH, LET'S BAKE IT! LET'S SEE WHAT FORTUNA HAS IN STORE!”

Unfortunately for them, Fortuna was not on their side tonight. Heaved onto a baking tray, a glob of purple mush with a forsaken Cookie inside, with some other pastries and stuff still in the Oven, the Witch cranked the woodburning oven up to a fiery 375 degrees Fahrenheit. White Lily Cookie’s screams were drowned out by the sounds of crackling wood, bubbling dough, and rattling metal as she felt herself being pulled apart.“Wh-WHAT’S HAPPENING TO ME…?!” Uttering a soul-splitting scream, she felt her own dough split away from her as it spit her out of the blob of Ultimate Dough, right off the tray and into the fire.

The Ultimate Dough conglomerated into what White Lily Cookie perceived to be the Boogeyman staring down the Oven’s cast-iron doors. A Cookie with horns black as night. Slender as a skeleton. Dough burnt into a pale shade of purple, just as the Ultimate Dough was not even an hour ago. And then the flames died down. The doors opened. A new Cookie burst into sinister laughter in her new life as a charred and mortified White Lily Cookie could only hide in silence and watch Chaos Incarnate unfold.

——————————

[End of File 1] - [Next: File 2 - “Solace in Nightmares”] - [Return To Case Record]

[heylinhenchman]

📊 🔗 💧 🎁 🌺

THORUGHT (yeah) PROVOKING QUESTIONS | PERMACCEPT.

📊 - How does your muse feel about the state of the world? Could it be better? Could it be worse?

OUR World ? Well he wouldn't be surprised, he's savvy enough to have seen where it was going. But tbh if he were in our world his older self would probably be getting pretty chaotic neutral in support of a better environment. Can't enjoy a world that's slowly imploding on itself (also makes a buck getting weapons/blueprints to rebels just like grandmama). He still does in the nebulous modern-fantasy type world of xiaolin showdown, but with Magic and Heroes and all, it's generally expected they'll fix things and keep things 'GOOD N HAPPY' (even if it costs them (magic, resources, time, energy),,, but it don't cost HIiiMMmm).

🔗 - What are your muse’s standards for meaningful relationships? How quickly do they form relationships like these?

A meaningful relationship will ALWAYS involve the other party knowing about and/or accepting Jacks multifaceted life. Jack masks in a lot of ways with a lot of aliases. Someone's gotta be able to put up with Villain Jack, Jack Spicer Son of Important People, and Jack Spicer, that nerdy goth guy who just, is so weird (and lovable). These relationships are pretty rare, because Jack doesn't like to go into details about his family (beyond their various attempts to hinder him); and if he meets you as a civilian he doesn't always want to expose himself as a villain. Meeting him and accepting him as a villain is usually your quickest route to his trust.

From there a lot of meaning comes from a mutual understanding they cant, and trust that they wont, try to control each other. Nobody tries to make him good, and Jack is more willing to respect someones boundaries than just the average acquaintance.

Jack is a bit starved for connection, but he's also not exactly experienced with a considerate one. So he's always on guard while seeking a crumb of compassion or understanding.

💧 - How would your muse react to losing a best friend? How would they cope?

Jack gets attached to objects more than people sometimes, but it doesn't mean he wouldn't grieve in his own way. Jack... tries to be logical about these things. But maybe in a really neurodivergent way. It's that with objects he was suppose to protect them and was capable of repairing and potentially keeping them forever. If he loses an object that's his fault and it's maddening. People... aren't... forever. He's used to abandonment and he's understands entropy. But as much as he knows that, there's no preparing for the loss of someone important to you. Kinda sore subject for ... this ask but his best friend is his grandma when he doesn't have any other connections via RP. He knows life is fleeting, but he has admired her since he was young and she supports him like nobody else and has given him so much. He thought she'd find a way to live forever, and she does live for a long ass time. Even if you can accept that someone is gone, logistically, and that it went as well as one could hope. There's still a very literal physical void and emotional reaction you have to literally deal with with at some point.

Jack doesn't let a lot of people in, he doesn't have a lot of people who root for him, every single one means so much. He's really reactive at first. There's a cold couch-sinking depression, there's a lot of hot, wet with tears anger, there's a bit of hysteria. He'd shut himself off for a while, even if he had any other friends, he wouldn't really want them to see him in the state he was sure to be in. Unlike I, who trusts the psychiatric community, Jack doesn't believe in therapy. So he would stew his feelings, making unfavorable judgements and assumptions until he felt comfortable enough to come out again. Then he'd refuse to talk about it. He'd call anyone who brought it up insensitive. He'd claim it's over and he doesn't want to talk about it. It becomes a trigger for flash anger. But from time to time he'll be struck by some sorrowful thought or impulse to connect with that friend again and feel himself start to choke up and need to fuckin escape pronto.

On the hopeful side though... He clings to sentiments. Whether the friend left him physically or if they left this earth. He tends to cling to the things they left him. Even still make thing in their memory (in a way its like, the good things about em live on in the things he emulates, ya kno?).

🎁 - Does your muse celebrate their birthday? If yes, how do they celebrate? If no, why not?

Not really. His parents used to make a big deal of it when he was younger, but as he got older, it's started to just be his mom, and people she thinks should be his friends. He doesn't really like to think about aging much, but also, struggles to remember how old he is sometimes, cause he just lies a lot.

🌺 - Does your muse have a favorite flower? Why do they like it?

HOW COULD IT BE ANYTHING BUT THE MONKEY ORCHID? Orchids are just persnickety plants and who doesn't love a challenge ?

He also hates lavender. It gives him a headache and reminds him of his aunt.

[peachy-wolfhard]

He's an asshole but he's MY asshole (III)

A/N: oh emm gee :0 the amount of people that like this series is so cool!!! hope everyone likes this part its the sad one :,). dialogue directly from the episode as usual. Reader is NOT one of the siblings, brother and sister is used in an in-laws kind of way. 

Taglist at the bottom, feel free to ask to be tagged in upcoming parts!

Warnings: character deaths, Ben is an ass to the reader, manipulation? kinda?, animal cruelty (i think? Ben squeezes one of Fei’s ravens), religious talk, Grace being her season 3 weird self, reader thinks the kugelblitz is punk, gore, violence, angst

Word Count: 3.2k

Part 1  Part 2  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6  Part 7

     “Oh my god, you are NEVER going to believe what just happened!” Sloane excitedly states, rushing into your room and slamming the door. “So lemme guess.” you say smirking “Luther came over and you…danced on the ceiling,” you say trying desperately not to burst into laughter. Her face goes white and a shocked look is slapped across her face, “H-how did you know?” she asks finally being quiet about her rendezvous. “Well I mean it’s not like you two were exceptionally quiet…and I was walking by your door,” you smirk. “So how was it and please spare details I don't need all that information,” and with that, it becomes impossible to shut up, telling you too many details and too much about Luther.

     Sitting with Ben in Fei’s room while she feeds her birds was not your ideal night in but hey, it's better than having to fight the umbrellas. Your thoughts are interrupted by Fei speaking. “Were getting tons of missing person complaints in a three-block radius. I was thinking hysteria,” Fei says before going back to chopping meat. “What are they up to?” Ben questions. “Who?” Fei asks curiously before Ben replies, The Umbrella Academy. “Still can't believe they're umbrellas and not some living thing,” you say trying to lighten the mood but failing. “Use your heads number two and number seven,” Ben says while standing up. “First Marcus, now they’re grabbing civilians off the streets?” Ignoring his question you began to think when the last time Ben called you by your number, sure in arguments about him not being the leader anymore he would bring up your rank but he wouldn't call you number eight.

     “Number two and number seven? I suppose that means you’re number one now?” Fei says confused by the shift in numbers. Ben justified that by stating that Marcus is missing, so he's taking the reigns. Fei chuckles at him. Oh fuck. This starts an argument in which Ben sarcastically asks if Fei thinks they should be the new leader. “You had your chance once. Didn't turn out too well, now, did it?” she throws in his face. Just then Ben grabs one of Fei’s precious birds, the birds that are directly linked to her, and squeezes it. “Say that again,” he says threateningly, with a sick smirk on his face.

    Fei starts to call her ravens, just as Grace walks and asks to clean up, immediately Ben releases the raven and tells her to do it quickly. Almost immediately they start arguing again “You know I respect Marcus,” “of course” “I would do anything to protect him,” “Sure,” Fei hisses out knowing the power struggle that has been between them for years since Ben’s demotion. “We’ve been numbers two, three, and eight for far too long, Fei. With Marcus gone, it's moving day,” Ben reasons finally getting Fei to crack. Ben then prattles on about how it’ll be them, center stage taking things to a new level. 

     “So what’s in it for me?” you ask intrigued. “Love, you have been number eight since forever, I mean come on even in another place you were at the bottom of the totem pole. Don't you want a promotion?” Ben’s offer does sound nice, however, him saying you're at the bottom of the totem pole hits a nerve. “Bottom of the totem pole? What the fuck is wrong with you? Maybe I like being number eight,” you argue. “But I know you don't; you want the recognition; you want to be seen as more of a person and not a blood-thirsty killing machine, right?” Ben says condescendingly while squatting to be face to face with you; holding your hands. Ripping your hands away, you stand to leave, heading for your bedroom. Normally you would've stood up for yourself and ripped whoever insulted you a new asshole, however, this was Ben. 

     Lying on your bed staring at the ceiling, tears streaming down your face. Why the fuck did he say that? The heat of the moment? Stress? How he truly feels about you? Hoping it was anything but the latter. Sitting up you grab some tissues wipe your eyes and use all your effort to go to the door. Grabbing the handle and turning it you poke your head out of the door, making sure no one will see you. Just as you were walking out you see Ben walking down the hall, heading towards your bedroom; he looks distressed and upset, Fei probably gave him a verbal ass whopping on your behalf. You could always count on Fei to stand up for you on the once-in-a-blue-moon occasion that you couldn't. “Hey hon,” Ben says…sadly? What the fuck does he have to be sad for? He's the one that called you low tier, not the other way around! “Hi?” you say annoyance laced in your voice. “Can we go to our room? Please I just need to talk to you,” Ben all but pleads with you. Nodding, you two walk back to your room; as soon as you get into your room Ben falls apart, sobbing uncontrollably. 

     “B-b-babe I'm so fucking sorry. I didn't mean anything I said. I've just been thinking about what they keep saying, h-h-how we were dead and-and,” he says at the speed of light, crumpled on the floor, hands covering his face, sniffling and coughing. Even with you, he hated people seeing him cry, hated anyone seeing that his macho badass facade was just that, a facade. “Hey your gonna be okay, c’mon let's sit down,” you say in as gentle of a tone you could muster. You were still pissed and upset, yes he is hurting but that doesn't make him insulting you any better. “Listen, I know you’re hurting and I am too; I mean we were just told that we were dead and that we didn't even die together like a cooler Romeo and Juliet kind of way,” you joke trying to calm him down as he lays in your arms, head resting on your lap. “However if you ever say some shit like that again, I will rip you apart. Take that literally or figuratively I don't care,” you say threateningly.

     “Yeah yeah I get it,” he chuckles then coughs. He leans up and moves his pillows so that he can lay down. “So I take it you’ve been thinking about umbrella Ben?” you say semi-jokingly. “Yeah I’ve been kind of thinking about that but there's something else I want to talk about,” he says suddenly getting serious. “Marcus wasn't taken by the umbrellas, he was taken by ‘God.’ That’s what Grace calls it,” he explains. “It’s in the basement, after you left we continued talking about the umbrellas taking him when Grace said that God is in the basement and that Marcus was ‘called home’ whatever that means,” he stated confused. “Personally I think Grace needs a check-up or that for some reason she's protecting the umbrellas,” You sat for a moment wide-eyed; so God is in the basement and Grace has gone robot insane? Okay, time to go to bed. I think I've seen and heard enough. As you were getting ready to lay down and take a nap, Ben starts to speak again. “We’re also going to meet with some of them to arrange a deal to get Marcus, you don't have to go if you don't want to,” Ben says before getting up and putting his jacket on.

     Walking out to the garden you can spot only two of the six you had previously faced off. “Well at least if anything goes south we can take em’” you joke to Fei causing her to giggle. Meeting in the middle Ben starts the sarcasm “You’re one short,” he joked. “Where’s the rest of your pathetic family?” Fei questions quickly being shut down by Allison’s “Aww. Is that the best you can do?” Great and here I was thinking it could be an over-and-done thing; we meet and arrange a time and place and Marcus comes home. The arguing continues as you tune most of it only coming to when Allison calls Fei a flock of ‘She-gulls’ to giggle while Ben cackles, making Fei death glare both of you. 

     “Where the fuck is Marcus?” Ben questions the two menacingly. Viktor stutters before Allison finishes his sentence, saying that Marcus is safe. Bullshit, why did it take so long for him to respond? Maybe he’s just intimidated. “For now. But that’ll change real quick if you don't do exactly as we say,” Allison threatens. “See? I told you they have him,” Fei tells Ben making him sigh out of relief. “I warned Marcus, but no. He said we had to hear what you had to say,” Ben replies directing it more towards the umbrellas than Fei. “Look he wasn't wrong, okay? We want to make things right with you--” Viktor says before you cut him off. “By kidnapping our brother?” you boom becoming increasingly annoyed by the pair.

    “No that’s--” “Yes,” Great now they can't even agree if they meant to kidnap him. Viktor goes on to explain that the world is in danger and they caused a paradox that is swallowing people. “Lots of cows, and a dog, few lobsters, but also people,” “Why the fuck didn't you start with people,” you interrupt, your annoyance becoming apparent. Ben and Fei exchange smirks at the comment. Allison then asks for the briefcase they left in exchange for Marcus. “Deal. The briefcase for our brother,” Ben says before you or Fei could tell them you don't have a briefcase. “Great, Hotel Obsidian, four o’clock sharp,” Allison says while putting her sunglasses on and walking away, Viktor in tow.

    Making your way inside to start looking for the briefcase. After checking all of the upstairs the three of you go downstairs. “You don’t think its weird that they forgot something here? What if its a trap? What if it explodes?” Fei says the latter making you giggle. “Please. They aren’t that smart,” Ben says in front of you. “Who knows though maybe one of them rubbed their two collective braincells together and made a bomb,” you laugh. “Yeah, right like any of them would competently make a bomb; they struggle pouring water out of a boot with the instructions on the heel,” Fei continues before you three see it. 

     “Sweet Jesus.” Well I’ll be damned, not what i imagined God would look like but hey i can roll with it. Got a nice punk vibe. Grace explains that Jesus is one interpretation along with other deities. “Who knows who the waking god will choose next,” Grace says completely infatuated with what ever it is.”Grace, is this what took Marcus?” Fei asks, concern growing for their missing brother. “He went right and touched it. Brazen man,” Grace answers. “Grace, when did god get here?” you ask hoping to pry more information out of her. “Two days ago, with our new visitors,” she says with a dazed look in her robotic eyes. The three of you share a look of confusion at this newfound information.

     While preparing to go meet the umbrellas you decide to relax by watching the news. The news anchor states that the number of missing people are steadily climbing and that there currently are no suspects. “Heh yeah cause our basement keeps doing that,” you say under your breath not noticing Jayme behind you. “What? Our basement is kidnapping people?” she says loudly. Quickly you try to think of something, “No our basement isn’t kidnapping people,” you try and miserably fail to convince her. “You’re lucky i don’t care,” she says before walking away. Fuck man you have GOT to be more careful where you say shit like that!

     Arriving earlier than planned was always your strong suit; better to be early than late. “Oh my god we’re so early they’re gonna think we don’t know how to tell time,” Alphonso complains. “Better three hours too soon than a minute too late,” you say with a shit eating grin. “God stop quoting Shakespeare; its weird when Ben does it and it’s weird when you do it,” he cringes. “Will you all be quiet we need to make a cool entrance,” Sloane jokes. 

     Walking in you hear the room go quiet. The umbrellas meet you in the middle of the foyer of the hotel. Walking side by side with Jayme on your left and Sloane on your right; you come face to face with Sloane’s boyfriend (as you’ve taken to jokingly calling him) bandage covering the scratches you left him with previously. Cameras flash and suddenly you are snapped from the high intensity stare down. “Well, thanks for coming,” Viktor starts. “Oh, yeah, super glad to be here,” Jayme sarcastically responds, causing everyone to suddenly start going back and forth again. 

     “Where’s the briefcase?” Allison asks before Ben quickly responds “Wheres our brother?” “Maybe we should try this again before I lose my temper,” Allison continues, amazing you in the process; for years you have been the only one to successfully put Ben in his place and seeing someone else do it astounded you. Looking to your right you can hear Sloane whisper for Luther and presumably the others to run before Ben tells Allison that the deals off.

     “Molotov this, bitches!” a…small child yells? Before dropping it and lighting a column on fire causing the fire alarm to go off, making all the hotel goers evacuate. Ben tells you all to get ready to fight and you prepare to kick some umbrella ass and drink some umbrella blood. Chris shoots out a piercing feedback that paralyzes the umbrellas to the floor, clutching their heads. Ben then commands to “Kill them” to which all of you start walking towards them, intent on completing this mission.

     Jayme and Alphonso take the lead getting ready to kill Viktor. Out of no where an old man approaches doing the same thing that Viktor did back at the academy. The blast knocks you down to your knees, covering your head. After the blast was over you hear Fei scream Jayme’s name. Looking to your left you see the bodies of Alphonso and Jayme; badly burned and dead. Ben yells for you to pull back. Still on your knees with your arms around your head to look to your right to see Sloane unconscious presumably dead. Feeling sick you stand up just before one of the umbrellas, Diego, sees you. Too hyped up on adrenaline to think you run as fast as you can throughout the hotel not stopping until you found a vacant room.

     Opening the door as quickly as possible and slamming it, you retreat to the bathroom. Sitting in the bathtub you finally settle down and try to gather your thoughts. Unable to, you crumble, breaking down into hysterical sobs, surely giving your hiding spot away. Two pieces of your family just died, in front of you. Their faces burned to a crisp. Grabbing some toilet paper you blow your nose. I didnt feel real and it doesnt feel real. Jayme and Alphonso were gone; you dreaded going home. Being around their things, in their rooms, smelling Alphonso’s ridiculously overpriced cologne that he always insisted on buying and Jayme’s floral shampoo that she claimed she hated but secretly loved.

     Sliding down to where youre completely laying down in the bathtub, you put your hands over your face. Turning on your side, you press your ear up to the tub; hearing loud foot steps growing closer. Deciding that if he does find you, you should probably defend yourself; you get up and prepare to fight in a hotel room with someone who just killed your brother and sister. As soon as you stand up and prepare for a fight; the foot steps are no longer heard. Brushing it off as you hearing things; you look through the peep hole; checking if the coast is clear and leave the room. 

     Wandering around the hallways and staircases, you find yourself in a bathroom once again. Fuck it i can cry in a shower. Going into one of the showers and closing the doors, you slink to the floor, undoubtedly being seen based on the door not being full length. Hearing footsteps you get up ready to fight only to see Sloane looking petrified at you. Hearing more foot steps, you accept your fate and leave the shower stall, only wanting to comfort your sister; given that the others had abandoned you and her here. Luther runs in, looking for Sloane but instead see you. He gives you a look of pity maybe as a way to say “Its going to be okay don’t worry,” or maybe as a “I’m so sorry for how hard im gonna kick your ass.” Glaring you see Sloane behind him, lifting him up and choking him. “Did you set me- us up?” she asks the hurt and grief noticeable in her voice.

     “I would. Drop him,” Diego says while putting a knife to your sisters neck. “And you, you pointy teeth freak stay right there,” he says towards you while pointing the knife that was on Sloane’s neck towards you. “Get them and let’s go,” he says to Luther causing him to look over at you. Luther tries to tell Diego that everything is good and that he cant let Sloane go but Diego reminds him that she and you are the enemy. “She’s hurt,” he reminds Diego. Luther then threatens to bury Diego if he hurts her. “You gonna bury me too, Luther?” Allison asks mockingly. “Just let me talk to her,” Luther says almost begging. “Oh trust me shes gonna talk, both of them,” she says turning and staring at you.

     Here you were about to be interrogated by 3 out of the 6 umbrellas, in a bathroom/spa, while up against a wall. Watching Diego flip his haphazardly made wooden stake before pointing it at you, Allison says, “I heard a rumor you’re gonna tell me the truth,” towards Sloane. Looking towards her you see her eyes turn milky white while she starts to shake. Allison asks where the briefcase is as everyone focuses in on Sloane. Grabbing her hand you hold it before Allison turns her attention to you, saying the same thing. Holding your breath as your thoughts are taken over by what she said, you too start to shake not wanting to give up anything to them. Sloane breaks before you screaming that she doesn't know. Allison and Diego then turn towards you, watching your nose bleed and eyes return to their normal color.

     After a couple moments you break, “I put it in the basement after the fight but it wasn't in there!” you scream wanting the thoughts to stop. Allison visibly upset walks away, Diego asks what side Luther is on with him protecting Sloane. Luther tells Diego to get out before Allison yells that everyone should leave and that you and Sloane shouldn't leave his sight. Leaving the spa you can only wonder what Ben, Fei and Chris are feeling, probably not knowing that you and Sloane are alive.

Taglist: @0x1lovesonq @bryannabarradas @ac-book-nerd-13 @4okkotsu @kraken-00-22 @fivehargreevessuit @isaefire @xhiiyuv @fridatessacm @gloriousstudentoperamug @j-panic @salted-fis @siriusly-rem-writes @gamingdevil101 @sanguinelabyrinth @muzanslander12 @mihhggvggh 

[hpalways]

The Signature || Zhongli

Yandere! Zhongli x Reader

Please make sure not romanticize toxic relationships. I do not condone this behavior whatsoever. 

AMBER eyes were stuck on you, never once leaving your form. They belonged to the Geo Archon, Zhongli, the attractive man you befriended not too long ago. His long ebony hair had left its hair tie, drooping loosely over his shoulder like a soft waterfall as he rested his hands on the surface of the desk -- the desk in which you were forced to sit at. 

In front was a long piece of parchment, handwritten by the male delicately. On it stated:

An agreement that [Y/N] will stay by Zhongli’s side forever. The signer will not speak, look, or stand near anyone other than Zhongli. The signer will be cherished, so they will also have to cherish the other party. They will enjoy their lives to the fullest, as long as they do not step out of line and make sure to follow the rules laid out to them. 

[Y/N] will never stop loving Zhongli. They will speak of topics in interest to both parties. They will drink tea and spend mora for the two of them. They will unconditionally love Zhongli. They will love Zhongli. Zhongli will love them. For an infinite amount of time. Forever and always. Always. 

They will never die. They can not die. 

DO NOT EVER DIE.

Punishment will come if they dare break the contract. The signer knows what this means. 

Signed: _____________

The hand on the pen was gripped so hard, your knuckles had turned white and it shook. Your breath was shallow; A headache began to pound. His eyes would never leave. You were his priority now. Every action was a ticking bomb -- anything could set him off easily. 

You didn’t want to fucking sign it. You knew it was a death trap, but did you have a choice? Not really. 

Zhongli noticed your torn expression, so he tilted his head with a quiet hum. “Is it that hard to sign something?” he stated coolly, his gloved hand brushing over yours. The leathered feeling sent shivers down your spine, and it took everything not to cringe away. 

“I was just… thinking,” you murmured. He raised his brows slightly, quickly interested by your words. Maybe you could buy some time and figure a plan out to leave this room unscath. Luckily enough, the God of Geo was a man who often went on tangents. “I was thinking about the first day we met. You made me pay for your tea at the teahouse.”

He nodded eagerly, stroking the bottom of his chin in thought. “Why, yes. I can remember that day as clear as the skies of Liyue. The tea made for me was quite striking. Made of violetgrass and it tasted delightfully smooth too. Then you came in and made it taste even better. You were all dirtied from battle, seeking for a nice drink to be refreshed on. It caught my attention immediately, but when you offered to pay for me, I knew you were the one.”

He described the meeting in a dreamlike tone, oblivious to the jarring reality that sank its teeth on everyone like a poisonous snake. You shouldn’t have paid for him that day; you shouldn’t have even made eye contact and spoken to him. This was the consequences to your failure of judgment. You could only now sow what you reap. 

He swerved around the desk, growing ever closer to you until he was right next to you. His warm breath hit the side of your face, the smell of soft mint wafting up your senses. “Now… let’s not get off track here. Sign this, my love. I promise you it’s not that hard.”

Dammit. He was too focused on the contract that you barely had the time to brainstorm. Nothing was coming to mind. 

Footsteps echoed throughout the office of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor. You turned around in desperation, hoping it was someone who could save you from such a situation. There, stood a merchant, his hand holding advertisements to his stalls.

“Hello, I’ve come to--”

When his eyes landed on you, the figure beside you had made his move. Zhongli grabbed his polearm and with a clean swipe, beheaded the speaking man. The body-less head made a perfect, slow arc in the air before dropping to the ground with a sickening crunch. You let out a gasp, panting raspily in shock, stomach twisting within itself in nausea at the sight. What… just happened? That man just died. Oh god. Oh fucking goodness. You suddenly realized something. Help wasn’t ever going to come. No one could best Zhongli. He was a god! 

“Why did you… do that?” you choked out, gulping down the huge lump in your throat. As a pyro vision user, you had your fair share of witnessing deaths. But this was wrong. Someone innocent died for coming into this room. On account of you. He died because of you. 

“On the contract it’s stated that you cannot look at someone. Besides, he interrupted our moment.”

“I haven’t even signed the contract yet!” you cried out in hysteria. This was a nightmare. An absolute nightmare. 

“Oh,” he said, blinking in surprise. “That’s right. You haven’t. Well, this serves as a warning.”

You could never leave him. Trapped in a glass box within all corners, you were to be suffocated by his presence forever. There didn’t need to be a contract; you were already in one. He would kill your loved ones if you didn’t -- he knew of the weakness humans had, for he lived long enough to observe. He had guilt tripped, blamed you for it all, and knew that you would indeed succumb. The deaths were caused by your actions, painting you in red of a blood bath. 

The pen made its move. Ink bled into the paper, marking it as a tattoo. Indeed. This was permanent. It would continue to haunt you for the rest of your life. The writing was barely legible, pressed down so hard it became jagged like shards. 

[Y/N] [L/N] was finally written on the goddamn page. 

Gods were so selfish. They truly didn’t like to share-- whether that’d be war, the world, or the love of their life. If only you had known beforehand. 

“This is marvelous,” he exclaimed, his expression brightening up. He looked so joyous at the signature, lapping it up like a starved dog. His reaction was so unnerving, especially since the dead body was still in the room, rotting away like the corpse it was. Disgusting. Your hands and his were bloodied and he had no shame. “[Y/N]...” He raised your limp hand and kissed the back of it. “I love you. We shall be bound by this contract. Know that I will protect you, no matter the cost.”

You stayed silent. He was trying to make it romantic, but this entire thing was surreal to you. Either he was ignoring your lack of response on purpose or he did not notice. Tucking the contract away into the pockets of his brown, gorgeous coat, he eyed his hair. 

“Tie my hair, my dear. I’ve always wanted to feel your warm hands on me.”

You nodded robotically in response, getting up from your seat to reach the towering male. His cheeks flustered when your fingers weaved into his soft strands. But it was cold. They felt like weaving spider webs, ready to entrap a poor bug victim into its complex trap. That was what you were. Every second spent was eating you away, until you were nothing but dust.

[aerynwrites]

Unattainable

Captain Rex x F!Reader

A/N: So uhhh...Yeah I’m in my Rex feels. And I read something about the clones having accelerated Aging and it made me sad so I channeled that into this fic xD Hope you all enjoy!

WC: 1.1k

Warnings: Mentions of death, fear of death, emotional hurt/comfort.

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

You had pretty much grown out of being phased by the fatalities and gruesome details you see in battle. You remember as a Padawan you cringed and flinched and your heart was heavy with every death you witnessed. However, after being a Jedi master for several years and being a general in the Clone Wars, it has somewhat hardened your resolve and your mind. You still hold the compassion that is expected of a Jedi, but those things no longer make you lose much sleep.

Until tonight it seems.

You can practically feel the silence of your quarters pressing down on you. The ticking of the mechanical clock on your nightstand and the slow even breathing of the body beside you seem deafening in the silence. You sit up, pushing the covers from your body as you make your way out into the small living room to stare out the thick transparisteel to the stars beyond. You know that meditation would ease your mind, but it’s running fast with so many thoughts that you would never be able to empty it in order to achieve a calm state.

You let out a sigh as you cross your arms over your chest, still looking out at the galaxy passing by you. Hoping, naively, that the stars will give you the answers you seek. The light shuffle of familiar footsteps however, does not give the stars much time to answer.

You don’t turn to face him as he approaches you, eyes staying glued to the view port as he comes to stand next to you. He rubs his eyes tiredly, a yawn escaping his lips before he speaks. 

“Cyare?” his voice is soft as he addresses you, “What’s wrong?”

You could lie. You could lie and say you just couldn’t sleep - still too wound up from the battle. You could simply tell him that nothing is wrong and lead you both back to bed. You know that he would believe you. You know he won’t push you into talking about something you don’t want too. 

But this is Rex. And since he is the main object of your thoughts...you own him to reveal what’s on your mind. 

You let out a small sigh, your arms dropping to your side as you finally speak. “What if we just left.” you say bluntly, not wanting to beat around the bush since this is something you've talked about before. “I have connections. Good ones. I could secure us a place-”

Rex’s exasperated sigh cuts you off, “Not this again-”

“Rex!” you interject, turning and reaching out to take his hands in your own, “Please listen to me-” you beg, the tears you have been holding back since earlier today burning your eyes harshly, “I can’t do this anymore,” you breathe, “I can’t go out there and fight alongside you and your brothers knowing that those above you - above us - see you as nothing but pawns in their game. I can’t continue fighting for people who don’t see their best soldiers as human beings!” you gasp, “So why can’t we leave?”

Rex pulls his hand from yours harshly, and you are assaulted with waves of conflicting emotions rolling off the man in front of you. Fear, anger, frustration, confusion, love, yearning - but most of all - resentment. Bitterness. Feelings so deep and powerful that they practically knock you off your feet.

“And what would we do if we left?” he counters, “Go live on a farm in some backwater planet? Desert everything we’ve ever fought for? Get married? Have children?”

“Why not?” you practically wail, the tears you were fighting so hard to conceal finally slipping down your cheeks, “You make it sound like those are terrible things to want! That craving a family and peace is something so terrible!”

“Those things are terrible when you can’t have them!” he shouts, “You want things we can’t have! You want things that I can’t give you.” 

“Why?” you repeat the question that has been plaguing your mind for months now. “Why can’t we have that? Cut had it. Cut has everything we want over on Saleucami. He has a wife and two adorable little kids and he’s happy! We don’t even have to do it now. We can wait until the war is over-”

“And then what?” Rex cries, and you watch as his anger gives way to hysteria and fear and anguish. “After the war ends what do you expect?” he eggs on. “You expect us to live happily ever after on some outer rim planet and have kids of our own so that all of you can watch me die in your arms of old age because of the accelerated aging that us clones have been cursed with?” 

You falter at his words, taking a few cautious steps towards the man you love as your heart breaks for him. Finally realizing that what has been holding him back is fear. Not anger.

“Rex you can’t think like that-”

“I have too!” his words come out of shuddered breathes and you don’t miss the shine of unshed tears in his eyes, “Because if I don’t, then as soon as we get a little speck of happiness, it will be taken from us and I-” he swallows thickly as he finally reaches out to take your hands in his once more. “I can’t do that to you,” he breathes, a few stray tears falling silently down his cheeks, “I can’t create a life with you knowing that I’ll only get to spend a fraction of it alive.”

You can’t even begin to think of what to say. And you suppose in this moment you don’t really have to say anything. So, in lieu of empty sentiments of understanding, you wrap your arms around him in a tight embrace, running a free hand through the short blonde hair at the base of his skull. 

“Well then,” you begin, voice thick with emotion, “Let’s just enjoy the time we do have, yeah? Then, we can see what our future holds.”

Rex lets out a shuddering breath and pulls you closer to him, nuzzling into the crook of your neck as he does so. “I love you. I’m sorry.” he whispers softly, lips brushing lightly over your shoulder.

You nod and hug him tighter, afraid if you let go, neither of you will be able to hold it together. “I love you too, Rex. No matter what happens.”

And as you both stand in the living room in each other's embrace, you can’t help but feel a smidge of hope tug at your heart. Because despite the destiny placed on the clone captain, your love for one another will be enough. 

It has to be.

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

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[bruhlsbees]

bloodlust ; 1/2 || vampire!laszlo kreizler x fem!human!reader

summary: after a cut to the hand, you finally accept the truth of who dr. kreizler really is

pairing: vampire!laszlo kreizler x fem!human!reader

warning: dark!laszlo, biting of flesh, blood, minors dni, 18+

a/n: the format might be a little messy as i wrote this in the car on my phone but i hope you enjoy the first part of my vampire!laszlo fic!!!

You tried so desperately to avoid him, not wanting him to catch you in your current state. You rushed from the courtyard and into the institute, going to your quarters, you held onto your own hand, the blood pooling from your palm and dripping through your fingers and onto your dress, soaking into the grey material.

It was all accidental, cutting your hand so deeply. You had been going after one of the children in the courtyard who had decided that a broken piece of glass was his current interest. You didn’t want him to get hurt and you snatched it away from him, cutting yourself in the process. It was a surprise that his little hand didn’t get cut too, but you didn’t stay long to dwell.

Looking back though, you did find it odd how you endured the cut and he didn’t. Digging deeper, you remembered seeing his eyes darken at the sight of all the blood, his tongue running along the bottom to lick his lips. You thought it was just the sight of blood that made him queasy, but soon you’d find out it was something much more sinister.

While managing to avoid more people than expected, you snuck into your room and shut the door, latching the lock behind you before going into your tiny bathroom, holding your hand under the faucet of the sink while you turned the water on, letting the icy water hit your wound to stop the bleeding.

You let out a hiss at the coolness of the water, your hand pulling back briefly to adjust for a moment before returning under the faucet. Even with the harder water pressure, the blood from your hand didn’t seem to stop. It worried you, would you have to seek higher medical attention?

It wasn’t like you didn’t know how to stitch a wound, it was stitching your own wound that troubled you. The feeling of your own pain made you queasy, light-headed. Bending down to look under the sink, you pulled out your small medical kit, opening it up to find some bandage for your palm. Once you found the roll, it didn’t take long for you to bind your hand.

When you stepped out of the bathroom, you made your way to your dresser, pulling out a clean dress to wear instead of your ruined one. You found it difficult to undress and redress yourself with one hand, huffing in frustration as you pulled your nightgown over your head. It was thin, able to see your figure underneath - the pinks of your nipples hardening and poking through the material.

It was getting darker out, meaning that Mrs. Gorenko would be taking the children to bed soon. You could retire to your room for the evening, so perhaps it worked out not being able to properly dress yourself, as you had no reason to.

The sudden knock at the door made you jump, turning and looking towards your locked door before moving towards it, grabbing your robe from the back of your chair and wrapping it around you. “Just a minute!”

You unlatched the deadbolt and twisted the handle, opening the door to see Dr. Kreizler standing outside of your door, a frown on his face.

“Oh, good evening, Doctor. What can I do for you? Please, come in.” You suddenly felt embarrassed, having essentially your boss see you in your nightgown. You wrapped the robe tighter around you, holding the front of it shut with your hand, your cheeks pink, “I do apologize, I ruined my dress not too long ago and and decided to simply retire to bed early this evening.”

Stepping beside you, Dr. Kreizler made his way into your room, standing near your desk that was beside the bathroom. You weren’t sure what he was thinking, or wanting, but for some reason you felt compelled to shut the door after him. When he heard the door click and watched you turn to face him, he caught sight of the bandage around your left hand, pointing to it.

“What’s this?” He questioned, motioning towards your hand. He looked at you for consent, nodding back as you nodded at him before crossing his left arm over him to grab your hand. He flipped it over so the palm was facing up before he sloppily began to untie the bandage.

“Doctor! It’s not yet healed, it’s rather mes-”

But he didn’t care. In fact, Kreizler was blood lusted over the sight. You noticed that his expression faltered into the same one as the boy who had the piece of glass in his hand from earlier. His darker eyes seemed to grow even darker, his mouth falling open, his pink tongue poking out to run over his lips.

You were confused at his expression, unable to point out what his gaze meant. His head dipped down, your hand pulling closer to him, until you felt his tongue run along the cut on your palm, licking the blood that dripped. Your mouth fell open, going to ask him what he was doing, but the only thing that escaped your throat was the gasp when you felt his canines sink into your palm.

They felt sharper than you had expected. Although, you hadn’t ever been bit by a grown man before. You imagined canine teeth were duller, but these felt sharp, like having a pair of scissors nick into your flesh. The initial pain from his bite soothed quickly into a low burning, however there was this pleasure inside of you building up from it.

As you watched him, you noticed his eyes staring up at you as he sucked at your palm, his moans vibrating off of your hand and down your spine. You let out your own moan, causing Kreizler to form a smirk against your palm, although it wasn’t entirely in pleasure, but more fear.

“Doctor, I- what are you doing?” You finally mustered up to ask, your eyes glazing over with tears. You tried to pull your hand away from him, but his grip only tightened, this time, a whimper escaping.

He pulled away from your palm with a ‘pop’, blood staining his beard and turning his pearly white teeth red, a sigh escaping his lips.

“My dear, you taste devine.” He admitted, licking his lips and catching as himself with a laugh as his eyes began to roll into the back of his head. He was drunk on your sweet blood, taking everything inside of him to not turn you into one of them there and now. Then again, your blood was so sweet, it’d be hard to not just drink you dry.

You stumbled back once his grip on your hand loosened, bringing your hand to your chest, ignoring the blood that dripped down your arm and onto the front of your white nightgown, now exposed. You felt your heartbeat in your ears, pounding as you suddenly became weary with Dr. Kreizler being in your room.

“Doctor, I’m tired, perhaps you should le-”

“Come now, don’t be shy now.” He took a step forward and when you took one back, you felt your back hit the door, a laugh escaping his lips. “I do enjoy this fear that is radiating off of you. Makes it even more fun to drink from.”

When he teasingly chomped your way, he seemed to find the playful behavior funny, although you didn’t find it funny at all. He sensed your growing annoyance, mixing in with the fear that already settled in. He took one final step closer to you, moving the robe off your shoulders and letting it fall to the ground around you. His fingers ran down your bare arms, smirking to himself as the cold air hit your skin, goosebumps rising.

“I could just eat you up...and perhaps I will. Would you like that? Mark you up and leave you until you are begging for the sweet release of death? Is that what you’d like?” He enjoyed hearing you whimper, shaking in his grasp until the sudden switch of desperation filled you.

You didn’t know for long now, but you did. The idea of him being a vampire still confused you, unfamiliar with the truth to it all, but the immortality aspect, that was what drew you in. That was why you were there in the first place, your obsession with death yet the immense fear of it as well that led you into your hysteria. You weren’t perfect, you had your flaws, and that’s why you were at the Kreizler Institute.

“I’m your doctor, you know...I know what you crave, what you fear. I’m surprised it’s taken you this long to realize what I really am. Or perhaps you always have, and you just told yourself a lie to help you sleep at night. Although, I do find it quite sweet, how pathetically oblivious you are to your surroundings.”

You felt his left hand move to your jaw, tilting your head to the side to stretch your neck, exposing the smooth flesh, his weak hand slacked at his side. He hummed at the sight, his eyelids drooping down partially as he leaned his face forward, pressing his nose to your neck as he inhaled. He smiled against your skin when he felt you lean into him, one hand at his coat, the other on his wrist, keeping him tight against you.

“Please...Doctor, I-I don’t want to die. Let me live forever,” You begged, whimpering when you felt his beard tickle your neck. “Let me live with you forever.”

He didn’t know whether it was you begging for him to simply turn you or the fact that you wished to live with him specifically forever. Either way, it was enough to send the man into a frenzy, grabbing the back of your neck suddenly to let his fangs sink into you.

It all happened so suddenly, but the pain that came with it was unbearable. You let out a gasp and began to wither in his grip, trying to pull away from him as your vision went spotty, your head spinning and your legs shaking. It felt like you were going to throw up, but you didn’t have to at the same time.

“D-Doctor…”

He didn’t hear your weak pleads with him, your body slacking in his touch as he drank from you deeply. Kreizler couldn’t contain his thirst at this point, his mouth filling quickly with your blood before swallowing deeply, feeding off of you until his stomach began to ache, signaling that it was time to stop before you died rather than change.

When he pulled away, forcing your neck off of him, he stumbled back, gasping for air as his face specked with your blood. He didn’t mean to be so selfish, but when he finished feeding he forgot about your state entirely, leaning against your bedpost while you fell to the floor, lying unconscious in front of him.

He was gasping to try and regain his balance, frowning at the sight of you on the ground. He knew he wouldn’t have been able to lift you, given his arm, so he stayed and sat in your room until you were awake.

Kreizler fell back onto the foot of your bed, pulling out his handkerchief from the inside of his coat pocket before beginning to dab your blood from him, cleaning himself up as he waited for you to awake in your new state.

As a new fledgling, he knew you would be starving, hungry for a thirst like no other. He remembered when he first turned, the burning sensation in his throat as he begged his master for help. He wouldn’t be cruel to you though, no, he would be patient and guide you through this as his new lady of the evening.

Time passed on and you soon woke up, groaning as you rolled from your side and more onto your stomach, the pain in your neck throbbing as you blinked awake, staring ahead at the door in front of you.

Your memory was foggy, not remembering much that could explain why you were on the floor. You also began to notice the sour taste in your mouth, how your throat bubbled and tightened, craving something you never craved before.

“Ah, so she’s finally awake.”

You jumped at the voice behind you, although your body seemed to be frozen to the ground. Your eyes flickered side to side, desperately trying to think of a way to sit up. You pressed your good palm to the floor and slowly pushed yourself up, turning to look behind you.

And then it all came back to you. The cut on your palm, Dr. Kreizler coming in, the bite on your neck. Did what you think happened finally happen?

With a shaky hand, you reached up and felt the bite mark on your neck, your fingers skimming the wound as you looked up ahead at him, eyes widened. He smirked almost proudly at what he had done to you, extending his hand out to you.

“Come, you must be starving. We need to get you something to eat.”

You didn’t want to take his hand, but you felt almost compelled to. And with his help you stood, regaining your balance before looking up at him. He guided you out of your room, ignoring the sudden protests coming from you as you tried to cover yourself more.

As you continued throughout the halls, defending down step after step until you reached the door to the basement, something told you that what you were about to eat wasn’t exactly food.

[fanfoolishness]

Liveblog: The Book of Boba Fett, 1x05

So. I watched the episode once, and spent much of it literally shrieking, rolling around on my back on the couch like a tipped over crab, and giggling with ever rising levels of hysteria. I attempted to write down live reactions but then basically fell into a hypnotic fugue state except for said caterwauling.

So this liveblog is attempt #2 to watch it.

Let the shrieking re-commence! Spoilers below:

Boba Fett! I wonder if we’ll see him again. (I don’t know *why* they did the episode like this, but they did, and no, we won’t. RIP Boba.)

I freaking love the colors of this abattoir. Is that a bad thing? It’s just such a gloomy, Bioshock type of feel and I DIG IT… ESPECIALLY that silhouette!

*bass recorder toodles*

Sad how the working conditions here are actually far far better than they are in US meat facilities. No crazy mechanized lines! Just leisurely butchering. Like how the workers are just like ‘okay, shiny metal man’s here, that’s nice for him I guess.’

Who’s this bounty? Guy sounds super familiar. Vaguely like Gimli, somehow.

Tracking fobs must have a vibrate mode.

“Are you saying all Kaba Baizes look alike???”

“Let’s discuss our options…”

He’s warming and colding!!!

My brain can’t even handle this whole scene. He got BITTEN? The DARKSABER? HE BURNED HIS OWN LEG?? That yell? When did we ever see Din so frustrated? Or was it pain? Maybe just the effort of lifting the cursed thing. Or maybe the Darksaber is getting in his head… o_O The choreography for this was really fascinating because it was almost clumsy in places in a way we’ve only seen Din be with the Rising Phoenix. Excellent way of showing this weapon is really, truly foreign to him, but he’s also very determined to use it appropriately now that it has come to him and Bo-Katan rejected his offer of giving it to her.

Aw, Din. That limp! It’s terrible! The way his breath keeps catching…. Unnnnnngh the Din torture, fucking love it, gonna write about it forever.

THE TITLE, the blended theme songs!!! BobaDin shippers out there must be exploding

I love this ring space station! So awesome. Reminds me of the Citadel in Mass Effect. The alternating light and dark cycles are just fascinating.

Most awkward elevator ride ever. Also reminds me of Mass Effect!

What is this parrot alien speaking Huttese? This is pretty cool.

Din works to live, not lives to work these days, haha.

Din examining himself in the elevator and trying to stay upright unnnnnngh my heart

I got so freaking excited when I saw the markings! Are they Mando’a characters?? I knew it was going to be a covert, but I had no idea we were going to be lucky enough to see Paz and the Armorer again! HERRRRRR omg this was definitely one of those screaming moments… that and Din nearly falling down the ladder in pain ;_;

What does the Armorer ponder in the long dark? That’s sooo fucking pretty. Also, do you get the feeling she knows way more than someone who hides out in a cave/sewer/understory all day ought to know? Like, kind of a suspicious amount of things?

Still bummed that Din didn’t go for a spin in Boba’s bacta tank.

I could watch the Armorer all day long. She’s magnificent ;_;

Is Din gonna find a Mythosaur on Mandalore? Or is she talking about Boba Fett… now THAT would be a twist…!

Fascinating that she says Mandalorian steel is meant for armor, not weapons. I didn’t realize the spear could pierce beskar, which makes it really scary - almost worse than the Darksaber in that way.

WE GOT THE GREAT PURGE AHHHH

So is she figuring that if everyone on Mandalore had been wearing their armor and helmets they would have survived the Purge? Hence its necessity?

Din rolls up like “I returned the foundling to his people” and in the next breath is literally “But I love him and miss him and need to see him again immediately”

Is she speaking Mando’a??? She must be, right??

I want her to say “You cannot control it with your strength. You can only control it with your will.” Because that’s got to be it, hasn’t it?

I feel like Paz has just always been an asshole and that’s why Din doesn’t even consider handing the Darksaber over to him, unlike his instincts with Bo and even the Armorer.

Love Paz’s little shield for him!

But seriously. WHAT DID SHE MAKE GROGU? I was hoping it was a mudhorn on the silver ball, but the chain mail type pieces suggest otherwise. I loved the parallels of the other forging scenes we've seen with the two of them.

Me at the Armorer asking about helmets: oh FUCK OH FUCK OH FUCK OH FUCK THEY’RE DOING IT

Din trying to hold out as long as he can. I had wondered how they would resolve this. If he would say he had to do it for the Child, to find him at the Imperial Base, to get the Child to go with Luke. But once it was out in the open, he didn’t try to explain and they didn’t care what the reasoning for it might have been. And okay maybe we have a quest now for these holy waters, and that’ll be fun I’m sure, but… just, wow. They were so close to being back together again as a tribe. Hoping very much Boba has a heart to heart with him and we’ll see if Din decides to follow the old Way or forge a new one.

Is the Armorer sus? I don’t know! I kinda want her to be! But I love her either way.

At least he got some bacta spray and something for Grogu out of it! But also a great deal of heartbreak ;____;

I can’t believe my man is facing the indignities of a commercial spaceport. I’ll forgive him saying he’s a Mandalorian right now because it’s force of habit and he’s got every reason to be testy right now XD

Fuck yesssss fanartists everywhere are like thank you for the weapon references!!

Din gazing out the window is everything *gross ugly sobbing*

Din sighing at the little kid waving at him is even more

THE POUCH LOOKS LIKE GROGU UNNNGH MY HEART

At least this ship isn’t swarming with Pykes!

*imagines a Love Actually montage as Din disembarks*

AND we got Peli this episode. What a goddamn treat!!! Oh man she’s a terrible shot! I love her dynamic with her droids, they’re all ridiculous! Also, is this the first time we’ve ever actually seen a womp rat?

Peli: “THIS IS NOT HOW I DIE”

BD is adorbs and also I love all the droids being so unimpressed with Din

LOLLLLL Peli’s reaction to Din giving Grogu away was much briefer than the 5000-word fanfic I wrote about it a few months back, but this is good too XD

“Do you have any idea what this is?”

Me: “is it… a fucking pod racer? Is this happening?”

Aw, she called him a lovely man LOL

Everyone who wrote a fanfic about Din getting a ship big enough for a whole-ass bedroom for Grogu and finally a real bed for him, well, it was nice knowing y’all

Bryce Dallas Howard loves spaceship humor and it’s adorable

Is anyone else wondering how Din is going to haul bounties around in this thing? Strap them on the bottom? Dangle them from the back?

Peli’s checkered romantic past is giving me life.

Montage, fuck yeah!

Gonk droid lives!

Din Djarin thanked a tiny droid. My heart is so full. He’s even made peace with Jawas!

This is a really bizarre ship. It’s like a wasp! Again, when will Din Djarin x Queen Size Bed ever become a reality?

Droid just told him to fuck off! Bwahaha

Yes. We all know that bubble is 100% Grogu sized and we cannot wait for their adventures to continue! Though if we do that, then they’ll have to have a lot fewer episodes set in deep space as it would get pretty claustrophobic, pretty quick. Though you could always do a fascinating little bottle episode of Din monologuing to the baby for an hour somehow…

I do love that Peli’s talk is completely earned. She knows what the shit she’s doing.

What is gomp skunk jack? Is that what I heard? What now?

I like seeing these hoodoos and finally Beggar’s Canyon that we’ve heard so much about! Awwww Luke.

Din: unable to keep himself from being adorable to tiny green children

Barrel rolls! Man is so happy right now.

But also fuck the New Republic. I’m so amused that they’re taking this tactic of just being a giant pain in the ass to everybody while completely ignoring things like the Pykes running spice and wiping out native Tuskens and oh shit, it got a lot less amusing than this sentence started. :( But at least Din is fast enough to get away from them now!

Omg “wizard” Din you are such a nerd

FENNEC this might be my favorite Fennec so far, Ming-Na Wen has such the cutest smirks

You have to go see a little friend??? Are we going to see that on the show too? That would be starting to make it a little weird given this is supposed to be Boba’s show, but on the other hand I don’t want them to show us Din and Grogu reuniting off-screen, either… they already didn’t show us Din and Grogu initially reuniting in the Rescue. I’d like to see Din and Boba having a heart to heart if there’s to be more Din time (this is already so much more than I was expecting though), and maybe Din and Boba and Fennec just chillin for a bit, and Din being very impressed by the rancor, and Boba being very intrigued by the Darksaber. It feels like he wouldn’t be interested since he’s happy to be on Tatooine, but who knows?

Whew. That was… a lot. I have some Thinking to do on fanart and fic now! Eeeeeek!

[fvrxdrm]

Last Night (Leon Kennedy x Reader)

Pairing: Infinite Darkness!Leon x GN!Reader

Warning(s): Implied sex

This is about a dream I had a few nights ago. I added a few things at the end bc the ending in my dream didn’t make sense but I’ll explain it later at the end notes.

*****

“Ugh! She’s a fucking headache!”

The coolness of the air conditioning in the briefing room dried up the remaining sweat on your back and forehead and your hands went disgustingly sticky with the clamminess clinging into your palm. Fatigued and dozy you were, you were sure you were going to pass out right there in your seat.

You, along with your partner, Leon, were tasked to save Ashley Graham again, this time in a more urban part of Italy. When the president told you about her getting kidnapped again, you legit rolled your eyes and Leon nudged your side when he saw the subtle gesture you displayed. Had Leon had the audacity to disrespect people who had higher power than him in his line of work, he would’ve flipped the president off and took the both of you to a nearby bar. He wasn’t like that though, much to your dismay. He still had that “mama’s boy” attitude in him even when he left some of it during his “rookie day” or night or something.

You were close to rioting that time. They were going to send you to that fucking mission again with only the two of you and hand you both shitty-ass pistols with ten fucking bullets. Who the fuck does that? Wouldn’t you send the whole team if you, the president of the United fucking States, had a daughter that’s been kidnapped? Also, why the fuck didn’t they enhance the fucking security level? Hello? Parenting 101?

Leon crashed onto the couch beside you, making you bounce a bit, before shaking his hair from the grease and dampness his locks held. “Agreed. I might’ve lost my ears right there…again,” he grunted as he stretched his arms above his head and managed to pop a few joints in the process. “Wanna grab a few drinks after this?”

With your head leaned against the back of the couch, you turned to look at your friend with jaded eyes and a lazy smile. You nodded in response and slapped a hand on his thigh. “Sure.”

*****

You may or may not have had one too many drinks and danced around like a fucking worm on crack. Leon had one of his arms wrapped around your waist and a glass of whiskey in his free hand as he ground against your skirt-clad ass while you responded back with the same enthusiasm as him. Both of you were drunk, that’s for sure. Not only with pure intoxication, but also with a sinful desire; something you two unknowingly shared on nights where fingers worked their magic to bring you both to a blissful high. You knew they weren’t enough to satisfy your wants, but they were enough to calm your racing thoughts temporarily instead of committing to a one-time thing and bringing awkwardness in the atmosphere, at least you thought it would’ve been a one-time thing.

Leon whispered naughty things into your ear, things he wouldn’t have said had he been conscious enough to stop himself from making a move, and boldly dipped a finger in your skirt and rubbed your pussy through your underwear. He was going to make love to you, he said, and he would make sure that you would be his. You bit your lip as you moaned at his words. He was hot and you would gladly let him fuck you anytime, anywhere. And so, you agreed.

*****

Ring. Ring. Ring.

The provoking sound of your phone pulled you away from your dream. Your fantasy was so close to getting to the good part. Leon was about to fucking kiss you and then somebody decided to fucking wake you up! You sighed. If somebody woke you up this early then you guessed it was really important. So, despite being piqued and groggy from the sudden sound, you picked your phone up from the night stand beside your bed, not even thinking about how different your room looked, and checked the time before answering the call. “Hello?” You spoke, your voice raspy and your throat feeling like a thousand knives were stabbed into it. You also took note of how your head felt like you were banging it against the wall with so much speed and vigor and attempted to ease it down with a simple massage but to no avail.

“Morning, Y/N!”, the voice from the other line boomed, causing your agonizing condition to aggravate even more.

Ashley

You groaned at the contrasting enthusiasm the girl had and you had to slam the phone on the mattress to ground yourself and keep you from dying. “Can you keep your voice down? I have a headache right now and it would be much appreciated if you could calm down,” you said after bringing your device back to your ear.

“Oh, sorry. I was just going to ask if you could meet me in the church later? I wanted to talk to you about something while we get everything set for my wedding tomorrow. I tried calling Leon, but he wouldn’t answer. Can you do me a favor of telling him about it too?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll call him.”

“Thanks, Y/N! I’ll see you later,” she said. The call ended with a series of beeps and you slammed your phone on the bed again with your eyes shut tight in irritation.

I cannot deal with that girl again. Especially now that I’m hungover… But who am I to deny the president’s fucking daughter…?

You sighed.

Welp, time to call Leon.

You raised your phone up parallel to your face and was about to press Leon’s saved contact name when you suddenly felt an arm wrap around your torso. Your heart pounded. With eyes opened wide and brain waking up from its slumber in an instant, you slowly turned your head towards your left and almost screamed at what you saw…or rather who you saw.

Leon.

His chest was exposed to the warmth of the morning air, hair strands clamped together by oil and sweat that was starting to form on his skin. He was still deep in his slumber and you noticed how the round bulge tucked in his eyelids moved around as if he was exploring something in his dream.

Never had you and Leon shared a bed together. Those times where he would come over to your place for a drink? He would always insist that he could just crash into your couch in order to avoid invading your privacy.

You panicked at the situation you were in. You grabbed the hem of your blanket and yanked it up to check if anything did happen, and surprise, surprise; something did. You were both naked and you felt something drying up down there. You also started taking notice of how your vagina felt sore from probably getting pounded and fucked silly last night-

Oh, right! Last night.

You vaguely remembered how Leon touched your body while you two were getting drunk. You two were getting a bit too flirty and began groping each other here and there, getting more and more suggestive as minutes passed, pie-eyed and unconscious with how you were treating each other as more than friends.

Every corner and every wall your eyes passed was becoming a void of something dark, something you became anxious of. What happened would forever change your friendship and your relationship with him for sure. Hell, you weren’t even sure if he was going to stay by your side starting from when he wakes up in a few minutes. And as much as you wanted to go back and prevent that from happening, you couldn’t, and you had to face the music whether you liked or not.

*****

Sure enough, when you woke Leon up, everything was awkward. No words were exchange from when you prepared for the day, breakfast, and until Leon drove you both to the location Ashley had told you to go to. The silence rose hysteria in both of your minds. You were going fucking crazy. You were fidgety when you sat beside Leon in the passenger seat and the man would bounce his leg up and down when you hit a red light. You both were trying to avoid taking a glance at each other, but those inevitable moments that you did, you would forcefully smile at each other and then gaze back out the window again. That was the cycle you lived on for a few hours and you decided to let it stay like that until one of you broke the atmosphere.

You waited inside the church as you were told. It was only the two of you inside but you acted like a handful of people were sitting beside you with the amount of space that was left unfilled between you. You were biting your lip and focusing on the pillars and stones that made up the building until you couldn’t process anything that was happening anymore and stood up, studying the interior as you roamed. “Hey,” you heard somebody whisper behind you. You looked down to your wrist when you felt something warm and saw a fairly large hand loosely gripping onto it before looking up to see Leon’s eyes gazing into yours. You nearly got lost in them but thankfully, he spoke before you got stuck into your own stupor. “I just wanna say… I’m sorry. I-it’s not gonna change everything that happened but I don’t want to break what we have. I value you and our friendship too much for me to let it go. I don’t think we can forget about last night but if it makes you feel better…I-I-“

“Can we talk about this outside? I don’t think it’s appropriate for us to talk about it here,” you chuckled. Leon nodded in agreement before leading you out to where a garden caught your attention. “Listen Leon, I know we can’t just pretend nothing happened but… I don’t wanna let go of this either. I value this as much as you do and it would be crazy stupid for me just to just hate you for something we weren’t even conscious about or something,” you said. You both laughed in relief as the weight on your shoulders dissipated into thin air before you placed a gentle palm on his cheek. Again, no words were shared but this time, no anxiety was present. Instead, you felt like this was an intimate moment only the two of you shared. Something was being written in the stars and you saw every word the gods wrote in the eyes of the person in front of you both.

As cheesy as it sounded, you two felt like magnets were pulling you towards each other, physically and mentally, and in a matter of seconds, you found your lips being pressed against Leon’s.

It was like you were recreating what happened last night without even knowing the details, except this was slower, more sensual, and certainly more emotional, and you couldn’t help the tears that flowed freely against your cheeks.

“Come on, let’s ditch Ashley. Maybe we could relive what happened last night?”

*****

Okay, so in my dream, Ashley’s not getting married and she didn’t call me. Instead, what happened was after the bar scene, Leon and I got teleported in front of the altar and just fucking talked. And then we walked outside and what happened in the end of this fic happened in my dream. Lol.

I rushed this bc I’m tired.

[undertakermybeloved]

Here's an old fantiction that I wrote for amino a month or so ago :) I don't love it, but it's alright so I'm posting it on here

Rating: Mature (14+)

Warnings: Angst, disturbing imagery, possible implied sexual assault, graphic descriptions of vomiting and being burned alive, attempted suicide

Here it was again. Dark and dripping with the tears of the damned, wrapping its tendrils around the man who had fought so hard to keep it off.

The Undertaker was a miserable man. His laughs were a facade, hoping- no, pleading- that if he played the part long enough, it would eventually come to be true. The sound of his high pitched giggles made him feel sick with how fake they were, and every time he made the repulsive sound, he nearly choked with how forced it was.

He could feel his stiff mattress as he sat upon the edge of it, but he could really feel it. Blank sensation, like the feeling of cold breath on skin, it wasn't really there.

The only thing he could feel was a creature from the depths of his own mind, a shadow painted black with malencholy and hatred. It choked the Undertaker with its many arms as they tightened around his throat, threatening to pull him down into an ever-present pit of asphyxiation.

He stood up from his bed with such a force he had to pause for a moment as his vision turned to spots, no doubt due to his malnutrition. He couldn't stand to eat. It was human. It was disgusting.

The first thing he saw as light finally penatrated his retinas was his mirror. It was dusty and old and had rust around the simple metal frame. It was a wonder the thing still managed to told itself to the wall.

But the state of the mirror was the least of his focus.

It was what he saw within it.

An old man, perverted and pathetically small, dirty and untidy in such a way one would think he'd crawled from a sewer. Scarred and pale, sickly and gross. It was a truly pathetic sight.

Disgust, anger, and hatred with himself intertwined in a whirling storm as they burned in his stomach, hot magma threatening to make its way up his throat. The sour taste was evident on his tongue before it even hit the roof of his mouth, and he keeled over as bile spilled onto the floor. He hardly had anything to vomit, so he stood there and gagged, both at himself and his mess. The scent burned his eyes and they blurred and watered, and for a moment Undertaker thought he was crying, the idea nearly pushing him to another vomiting fit.

He was so repulsively weak, so close to human, it was truly sickening. His gaze caught his own eyes in the mirror once more, and he felt anger wash over him. How dare he allow himself to stoop to this level.

Without looking away from the vile view in his mirror, he grabbed an ink pot from his desk and threw it with as much force as he could muster at the freak reflected back at him. The glass shattered immediately upon impact, causing his reflection to become deformed and misshapen. Some of the smaller shards fell from the cheap metal frame and onto the floor as the ink from the now ruined pot seeped over the broken reflection, covering it with the inky black that had been threatening to choke Undertaker just a moment before. He could see it now. The ink dripped over his body, his eyes, his face, his hands, it was everywhere, truly inescapable. His own actions were the cause of his downfall. Disgusting.

There in the mirror stood the true monster he was. Many eyed and covered in black deeper than the night sky, it was what he truly felt he was. Repulsive.

The Undertaker was nothing. He was a shadow, a shell, an empty husk. He almost wanted to laugh at himself. He was becoming one of his dolls. But his dolls weren't weakened by something as trivial as human emotions.

He couldn't stand to look in the mirror a second longer. He looked away, turning so quickly he quite nearly dizzied himself. He could feel it, choking him, pulling him in. No amound of red hot anger could singe the bonds that held him in his misery. One thousand, one hundred and twenty four years of walking the earth, and the only reason he still moved was because he had no choice. He was dangling on puppet strings, a doll made up from frozen tears and dried blood, held up by strings made from nerves and arteries of the men who'd sacrificed their lives in the hope of achieving their unattainable peace.

Time after time, attempt after attempt, freedom from reaperdom was forever beyond his reach.

Hands on his body, touching, grabbing, sucking out every ounce of will he'd once had to keep himself sane. He couldn't handle it. The hands were fire on his body, burned into his flesh. Wanting, needing, taking, they couldn't be cooled. So he'd simply have to fight fire with fire. He would forever feel the burns on his flesh from these desperate hands, it was impossible to rid himself of them. So he'd simply have to even them out.

Again he whipped around with near dizzying force, smacking his oil lamp off his desk and onto the floor. Immediately the oil caught and a small flame burned into his wooden floor, slowly growing.

Undertaker threw his papers, books, trinkets and antiques, everything he held so dear at the fire to edge it on. A choked sob escaped his throat as his hair lockets joined the burning pile.

The room was dry and dangerously flammable. Red heat crawled up the walls, surround the Undertaker in suffocating black smoke. Flames engulfed him, boiling his skin and cooking his flesh. His epidermis bubbled and melted off his body, his hair catching and burning to his scalp. His bones singed as he allowed himself to be taken by the hot agony.

He sobbed dryly and screamed into nothingness, not because of the pain, but because he could still feel the hands.

Undertaker fell into a hysteria, desperately rolling around in the flames as flesh dripped from his body in repulsive bubbling piles on his floor. He needed to burn, it needed to be hotter, to evaporate his muscle and tissue and turn his bones to ash.

He was pathetic, truly pathetic, rolling in flames like a dog for just a moment of relief. His eyes had melted into his skull, rendering him unable to see. If he could, he'd be witnessing a sight horrible enough to make him want to vomit yet again.

His body fell apart, flesh falling from bones and hitting the floor with sickening wet squelches. His eardrums had burst with strain from the heat, and he could no longer scream as his vocal chords shriveled away. His flesh was too far gone to move, and yet he still held consciousness. It was a curse, the horrible curse of a reaper, to be able to remain aware during a situation such as this. He couldn't even feel the painful raging heat anymore, as he'd lost too much flesh to have a working nervous system.

He knew when he awoke his body would be once again intact. Covered in bubbling burns and red hot agony, but still intact. He could never escape. Never. This was the curse of the reaper.

[dykesymmetry]

i am just never going to get to die. forever kept from being blessed with the freedom of nonexistence. one day, because god hates me and not because i actually want it, i'm going to get internet famous on complete unwilling accident and one day someone who cares way too much about my internet past will see my real actual face and go 'hey wait arent you-' and before they can finish i will have :) emoji'd them to death with lasers from my eyes and also psychic force previously unknown to all fiction works created. oh nooooo they died before they could finish their statement, what a shame, moving on. whatever could they have discovered, boo, guess we'll never know. i'll be 90 years old senile in the home and my underpaid nurse just trying to make his way through grad school will tell me to take my age-induced hysteria down 'just a peg', a statement which will immediately rip me single handedly from the dementia plaguing these past 10 years; the first lucid though i have in a decade being 'why this' before flatlining. he really does not want to have to deal with that though because it's only half an hour before his shift ends so he calls the EMT with the defibrillator even though it's really my time to go like i've lived long enough but they still pikachu use thunderbolt me until my cadaver cruelly reanimates against my attempts otherwise. the relief i feel in nonexistence immediately rebuked as the devil appears to state my punishment in continued living, a legacy turns condemnation when the martyr becomes a figurehead. i mean hey man we dont like HAVE to celebrate lesbian day talking about pegging like hey aha heyyy hey cmon ahaha ha i cannot imagine a single reason the two would have any possible correlation

LISTEN. listen. you inspired this. you wrote those pegging essays now lie in it. you have the sanctity of anonymity, of no name associated with your sin. i have no such luxury

[moonlit-mizukage]

Chapter Fifteen: 1am Joyride

Summary: Y/l/n Y/n, a third year at Sakura High School, is just a girl with a bad attitude towards anyone outside her small circle. When y/n’s younger sister starts first year, she gains a lot of attention. Unfortunately for everyone in school, the Y/l/n household has one rule, No dating till y/n does. Some people become just desperate enough to pay the leader of the “Monsters”, the trouble making group on campus, to date y/n. What will happen when she finds out? (All characters aged up to third year unless otherwise stated)

TW: Swearing, mentions of violence, implied past abuse, parents not loving their children, abandonment, foster care, jail, death 

AN: THIS CHAP IS A BACK STORY SO IF YOU ARE UNCOMFY I WILL POST A SMALL LINE FROM THEN END OF THISON THE NEXT ONE AS WELL!!! Sorry as well for not updating lots. Yeah girl has been dissociating so much and losing days. I blinked and now its friday at almost 3am. My  even closes as well on the 21st so if you want to participate please check out this Prompt list!!

Word Count: 1.2K

________________________________________________________________

Y/N POV 

I heard the rev of Tendou’s motorbike outside my window. I grabbed my jacket and Climbed out my open window.  I took the lightest steps I could around and passed Mei’s window. I grabbed the tree and started to climb down. I walked up to Tendou. 

“You look hot when you are angry babe.” 

“Gross, let’s just get out of here.” I grabbed the helmet from his hands as I climbed on the back. 

We rode down the rural neighbourhoods of the city. I never felt more relaxed than I did in that moment, my arms wrapped around him, the wind blowing on my body  as we rode off. I wanted this moment to last. We soon stopped as Tendou reached for his helmet. 

“This is my thinking spot. It’s usually quiet this time of night.” I took my helmet off and stepped off the bike. 

“I didn’t expect you to be of all people to need a thinking spot. Though you just Monster listed them.” 

“Unfortunately there's things the Monsters can’t always help with.” The atmosphere around him seemed to change to somewhat of a depressing vibe. 

“I really liked being on the bike. I didn’t even notice we ended up going up a hill to this lookout point.” 

“I knew you’d be distracted once you got to touch me.” He said with a wink as he pulled me into his arms. Our lips almost touched as he whispered. “Everytime I see you, you get more beautiful.” 

“Gross.” I whispered back as we both went in for a kiss..

Tendou’s phone startled us as he pulled away.

“What is it?” He asked as he answered the phone. A few minutes of silence passed. 

“No, I am at the lookout point. Can’t he just lie like he always does?” A deep sigh came from him as he heard the response. 

“Just give him my special stash and tell him to give it to her only if she won't come back. Shes a fucking bitch anyways. No one is at a loss by this. What’s a few couple hundred to get a forever problem solved?” Tendou laughed at whoever was on the other side of the phone and hung up.

“Sorry Y/n. Monster shit never stops when Teru”s one time hook ups won’t stop coming back.” 

“I don’t understand why you covered his ass. He’s going to act like a pig. He should deal with it on his own.” I slapped a hand over my mouth “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.” 

“I know you aren’t the only one who sees it that way but Teru and Mad have been here for me always. We used to be little brats back in our elementary days too. Teru was actually a Quiet little devil at first. I do admit we definitely have opposite opinions on girls' purpose. He did watch his mom go through boys every other day some new guy railing her in the kitchen when he got home from school. His mom told him if the sex isn’t an 10 then they are not worth it” 

“How would he even know what a 10 is?’’ 

“I think he just does it to feel some kind of connection to a girl. In hope’s to find ‘The one’, he just wants to be loved and accepted by someone. He knows he's got us but he’s never felt loved by his mom, doesn’t even know who his dad is.” 

“I had no idea, I feel terrible now” I said back to him. He pulled me closer to him again as he rested on the rail. 

“He’s honestly such a good guy. All four of them are. Mad gets in a lot of fights because that's all he knew his entire childhood from his 3 older brothers used to fight him. His dad was about the same in that sense too. The reason he always punches instead of thinks before he acts is that is what he's been taught. He moved out of his house at 16 after we got some income and met the other two. Started to raise some hell in our school you know?” 

“It makes sense why he always tries to fight everyone then.”I said back.

“Hanamaki though is a rich kid whose parents would rather pretend he doesn’t exist. He lived with his grandma on the other side of Tokyo till she passed away in the last year of middle school. Now they buy him whatever he wants while they live who knows where in the world. Him and Matsukawa have been friends since elementary though, Matsun even followed him to Highschool cause he got expelled the last day of school for setting a classroom on fire smoking too close to some curtains. Matsukawa though also didn’t have a good upbringing. His mom left him at 2 years old outside a random house with a note saying she never wanted him. It took 4 years for him to find his father, by then the kid already had some damage because of the system. His dad worked too much to see it for himself though. That just made his choice to move in with Maki much easier for him. That's how we all kinda met though, our broken homes.” Tendou finished, as he turned away and looked out at the view. 

“What’s your story Satori?” I asked him. 

“My father’s in jail, my mother is dead.” 

“Holy shit, I am so sorry Satori.” 

“I spent most of my childhood jumping from foster home to foster home. I was a demon spawn though. Always making sure they would move me around. Getting my nickname Guess Monster cause no one knew what I would do next. I live with my grandma now.” He said.

“I am sorry I always called you the second biggest asshole on earth. I had no idea.” He just laughed knowing I meant Oikawa as number one. 

 “And how about you y/n? What’s your story?”

“Um, my mom left us for a guy in Paris when I was young. I was basically raising Mei as my child, with my father being a doctor he's usually never home. Well till I started dipping on her for Oikawa. Now she hates my guts and my father spoils her so much cause he feels bad about missing out so much.” 

“Wait Oikawa? I thought you always hated him” He said. I began to explain to him the same story I had told Mei earlier the night. “I always knew he was a piece of shit.” 

“If only Mei did. That’s why we fought too.” Tendou pulled me in closer again. He smiled at me as he gave his signature smile. 

“It’s nice to have someone to trust outside of my circle again.” He pulled me into a passionate kiss….

The night continued for a bit longer as he brought me back home once again. I got off his bike and looked down at him as he took his helmet off and stood up. 

“Satori.” 

“Yes Y/n?”

“You were right, I did fall for you.” With that I placed a passionate kiss on his lips again. I pulled away and turned around to begin to climb back into my house...

_______________________________________________________________

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[lag1995-fics]

Hey can I request a fanfic for Evan's character kit walker and song a turning page from twilight?

I hope you like it thank you for requesting. ❤️

Turning Page

Song:Turning Page by Sleeping at Last

Pairing: Kit Walker X Reader

Warnings: some cussing

Words: 2010

Summary:Kit’s highschool sweetheart waits for him

Song Fic Masterlist

////::::////

You and Kit Walker had been high school sweethearts, he was your first love; and if you were being honest he was your only love. You guys had mutually broken things off after highschool when you had gotten into an out of state college.

When you came back the first time after getting your degree, you found out that Kit had moved on and married a woman called Alma. You weren’t jealous, a little disappointed maybe, but you were genuinely happy for them. Kit was a good man and you had always known he would make a good husband. You couldn’t put yourself through watching them though, you had never given up on your relationship with Kit. He had ruined you for other men. You had other boyfriends during school but the longest relationship had only lasted a month.

You decided to move back to Boston leaving your small town life behind. You loved a relatively happy life in the city, distracting yourself from the life you wished you had. You had gotten a degree in education, so you threw yourself into teaching children.

You had been happy to hear that they had apparently apprehended the serial killer, who went by the bloody face moniker. Well you had until they said it was Kit Walker, you reasoned with yourself that it had to be someone else named Kit Walker. Your Kit would never be able to do something as heinous as what they claimed Bloodyface did. Your Kit was a gentle soul, who would do his best to bring happiness and peace to anyone he might meet.

When you saw his face flash on the evening news that night you had broken down and sobbed. Kit was being framed for a murder he hadn’t committed. He wouldn’t even kill a spider much less the woman he married. You had started making calls trying to get on as a character witness. That whole town was racist and this stunk of a town coverup.

They wouldn’t let you be his witness though, they claimed you hadn’t spoken to him for over six years. You had screamed and cried even harder when they rejected you. You had never stopped loving Kit even if it had to be one sided from afar. You wrote him letters trying to convey to him that people still believed in him. That you would always love and believe him.

He never wrote you back. The guards at the prison who checked his mail had scoffed thinking of you as some loon and had trashed them. When he was committed to Briarcliff Asylum they too disposed of the many letters.

When you hear of Kit’s death you fall into a dark depression. You’re barely hanging on, when you happen to skim a blip in a newspaper. You almost choke when you see his face. He’s a bit older, but it is unmistakably Kit Walker. The article however was not a happy one: the man’s wife Alma had murdered a woman that lived with them in a fit of apparent hysteria.

Without preamble you packed a suitcase and began the trip back home. Kit would need you, not as a lover, that ship had sailed but he would need you as a friend. He was almost entirely alone now and with two toddlers to boot. You couldn’t help but feel the joythat he was alive even though it was steeped in sadness at his tragic loss.

Alma had been a sweet girl from what she could tell. She had never met her in person but if Kit married her it was apparent that she was a good person. She had been missing for so long though, she had been traumatized and snapped. It wasn’t her fault that bad things had happened and lord knows that the country's mental health system left a lot to be desired.

It had taken you almost all day to find the farmhouse that Kit lived in. It was dusk and the sun was starting to set. You took a steadying breath hoping that you weren’t overstepping any boundaries. You had flown out of the house with barely any thought, relying mostly on instinct. You hadn’t been able to help Kit when he was accused of being Bloodyface but you could certainly help now without the government involved.

You eased yourself out of the old Buick you were driving and shut the door. You began to make your way to the door but it opened before you got the chance to knock. There he was, he was still handsome as ever, but he had lost that carefree air he had when they were young. You supposed you had probably lost that too.

“I already told you I’m not doing an interview, leave my family in peace!” His voice was angry and you were now unsure if you had made the right decision. Then as if he hadn’t really been looking at you before, his eyes widened.

“Y/n?” He asked questioningly the anger had drained from his voice.

“Oh Kit I heard what happened I needed to make sure you were okay,” you explained trying not to cringe. You probably seemed like a crazy person showing up at your highschool sweetheart’s home after his wife had murdered someone.

“I thought you lived in Boston?” He questioned, still surprised at your arrival.

“I do, I hopped in my car as soon as I heard, I thought you might need some help. If I’m imposing I apologize… I can leave,” you were rambling, it was something you were prone to when nervous.

“No! Uh I mean no, you could never be an imposition doll. Come inside, I didn’t think anyone cared about me anymore,” he lamented, meeting her halfway on her way to the house. You got a better look at him up close. He still had beautiful brown eyes but there were dark bruise like bags underneath them. You could tell he hadn’t been sleeping well, and really who would after something like this happened.

You followed Kit inside his home, it still smelt of the bleach they used to get up the blood, but it was warm and cozy. You looked over and could see the two toddlers playing together on a rug with some blocks.

“This is Julia and Thomas,” he said, gesturing to the kids who barely spared them a glance.

“They’re precious,” you commented.

“Yeah they are pretty great, must take after their old man,” he bragged teasingly but it was half hearted.

“Kit,Are you okay?” You asked, laying a hand on.

“I will be,” there was a determination in his voice this time looking at the children playing happily unaware.

“If you need anything at all just tell me” you begged, hoping he would take the help. This trip wasn’t entirely unselfish, you had missed Kit the moment you left for college and the feeling had never left. It hadn’t faded with time like these things are meant to do, you had never stopped loving Kit and you would wait a thousand years if that’s what it took. You didn’t expect any romance, you knew that ship had sailed, but you would be there for your dearest and oldest friend.

“Don’t you have a life or a lover in Boston, surely you don’t want to spend time with someone as pathetic as me.” His self deprecating comment made you jerk him by the arm so he was facing you.

“You listen to me Kit Walker, you are one of the most gentle humans I’ve ever met. You are an incredibly good man and you deserve all the love and help in the world. Let someone help you, you don’t have to go through this alone,” You declared, staring directly into his brown eyes with your own y/e/c ones.

He only nodded before taking you into a friendly hug holding you close to his chest, his head buried into your shoulder. You felt a shuddering sob wrack through him. You only held him, you didn’t know how much time had passed as you held him close letting him sob. When he finally pulled away you could see the gratitude in his eyes.

****

Days bled into weeks and weeks bled into months as you stayed with Kit. Things for the most part remained platonic apart from a few lingering glances from each other. You didn’t want to put any pressure on the relationship. You had meant what you said when you told him you were here to help him. You would love Kit however you could get him be it romantic or platonic. You would always wait on him.

When he had come home one day in tears you had just held him. Alma had died that day and Kit had lost his wife for a third time and the children had lost their mother’s.

More time would pass and things became increasingly comfortable between you two. You had taken a teaching position at the elementary school the next town over and Kit continued to work as a mechanic.

It had been a day like many others when it happened. Kit had come home covered in a layer of oil and grease and you had been making dinner. After he had showered, he came into the kitchen to watch you cook and help Julia and Thomas with their homework. It was really quite domestic.

After dinner you had wrestled the children into bed and retired to the living room to watch television. You had felt the burning of Kit’s eyes on you and you turned to look at him pulling a face.

“Why did you stay?” He asked with a puzzled look on his face, “Your help has been indispensable, but it’s a year now and your still here. Aren’t you tired of me yet?”

“Oh, I can start looking for an apartment. I never wanted to overstay my welcome. I guess I just got comfortable being around you and the twins, is like breathing air” You rambled hiding your burning cheeks. He wouldn’t take that though and he grabbed you by your shoulders making you look at him.

“Doll I’m not kicking you out, you can stay forever if you want. I just don’t understand why you would want to stay with me,” he said and you gulped looking into his eyes.

“Oh Kit you’re the best person I know. Did you not get that with the hundreds of letters I sent to you in prison and while you were at Briarcliff” you joked trying to lessen the tension. You had never brought up the letters before you were honestly pretty embarrassed by them.

“What letters!?” He pulled back looking hard at you.

“I wrote to you everyday up until they announced your death” you explained cheeks filled with liquid fire.

“Fuck! He cursed getting up and pacing.

“I never got a single letter, y/n” he said and you not knowing what to do approached him opening your arms. He fell into your embrace burying his face in your hair.

“I’m sorry,” you croaked unsure of what to say.

“Don’t be sorry doll, but it still doesn’t explain why you want to be around me” He started in again and you couldn't help the anger that spilled forward. You took your fist and hit his chest.

“Because I love you dummy, I never stopped,” his eyes went wide at your declaration.

“What?” He asked dumbly, his limbs going numb.

“I love you Kit and I’ll always be there for you if you need me. If it’s only as a friend I can live with that, at least I get to be with you,” Your cheeks burned for the third time in what seemed like an hour.

Kit not knowing what to say decided to act on instinct. He gathered you in his arms and pressed his lips against your own in a searing kiss. You clutched at each other desperately the tension finally snapped.

“I love you too Doll.”

Requests are open drop a song or a prompt in my ask box ❤️

[mooniefics]

— quietly (it was told to believe)

pairing : connie springer / reader

word count : 2.4k

tags : heartache, hurt / comfort, friendship / love, mourning, first kiss

summary : life has been unkind to connie springer, and you've been there every step of the way.

— originally posted 1 / 24 / 21 —

"connie.." you tugged at the reins in your right hand, guiding your horse over to trot beside his, "are you alright?"

the sun had just set below the horizon, barely lighting the navy sky enough for you to see the thin clouds stretching out over it, the torch in your non-steering hand providing the best illumination over your friend's face. he looked almost dazed before you'd caught his attention, staring off into the distance at what seemed to be the castle ruins your group was making its way towards, but they were unfocused, blank, eyes filled with something so unfamiliar and sorrowful.

he righted his expression instantly when he turned to you, smiling wide enough that his cheeks puffed and his lids squeezed shut, cocking his head to the side as he spoke. "yeah! but today has been so long, i'm honestly just ready to get some sleep."

you knew that couldn't possibly be true, not after what you'd witnessed in ragako. he'd been calling out for his family, tears in his eyes, just to find his home completely crushed, ruined under the disfigured body of a titan. and though reiner had reached him first to offer comfort, you had caught the way connie's voice wavered, alarmed words spilling out of his as he pleaded with his friend to believe him, that the frail looking abomination before him had spoken and welcomed him home. and while you didn't believe that had really happened, you were sure that such a jarring sight couldn't have been good for him, that maybe in his hysteria to find any sign of life his mind had begun to play tricks on him.

and you'd been worried all throughout your team's trek, how his face had gone from tight with fear and adrenaline to resigned and despondent, then weighed down into the expression you'd seen before he put on a mask of bravery and enthusiasm. he looked so tired, entirely overwhelmed with the reality that his entire family may be dead—were most likely dead—and you couldn't imagine that you or anybody else would fair much better in such a situation. but you simply nodded at his false reassurance, cognizant of your comrades flanking you, not wanting to pry into such a fresh, vulnerable wound and humiliate him before the people he wanted so desperately to be strong for.

so you allowed the silence to fall around the two of you on the remainder of the journey to the castle, air filled with the soft pops and snaps of your burning torches and the dull clop of hooves on the dry ground. it was after you'd all tied up your horses, stretched out your sore legs and backs and barely explored the decrepit space before convening for a brief moment on the bottom floor to take inventory, that everyone had begun to drift off in their own directions. ymir declaring she would look for more food, the veterans taking up the mantle of titan watching on the lookout of the tower, reiner eventually taking off after ymir, christa disappearing down a hall with a gleam of curiosity in her eyes—and suddenly, it was just you and connie alone, sitting in silence beside each other around the small, crackling fire.

"connie," you tried, quietly, hesitantly reaching out to settle your hand over his on the cool stone floor, "you know i'm here.."

he didn't reply, vacant eyes gazing into the flames licking at the darkened kindling, and you could see how the tears glimmered on his lashes, bottom lip wobbling before he pressed his mouth into a thin line. "i just— i don't understand." he whispered weakly, "what did the people of my village, my family.. my mother.. what did they do to deserve this?"

you inched closer, fingers curling around his palm, feeling a twinge in your own heart as you replied. "nothing. they didn't do anything. it was just... a terrible accident."

you hated that you could only offer him such a lame explanation at the moment, but you were as much in the dark on the matter as he was. and though your words may have not comforted him, your touch seemed to make up for it, allowing him to turn him your shoulder and squeeze your hand tightly in his own, just barely trembling, feeling the light drip of tears wetting your shirt.

"it just hurts, you know?" he murmured in your shirt, voice fraying at the edges with sadness.

"i know, connie." you took a deep breath, "one day, things will be better."

he sniffled, swallowing thickly, pulling away to wipe his free hand down his face, hopeless hazel eyes blinking at you. "do you really think so?"

you didn't, you never had, not even on your best days, not when you were lying in bed staring up at the dark in the dorms, not when you were fighting for your life and watching the people you'd come to know be struck down for no good reason, their screamed last words and snapping bones and splattered blood as they disappeared forever into the stomachs of titans.

you could feel that pity, that empathy weighing down your heart heavy even further as you gazed at him, eyes stinging with your own tears as you told him, quietly. "we just have to believe."

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

you didn't know what hurt more in that moment—the heat still lingering over your skin from the steam of your gas tank, the way the belts of your harness were digging uncomfortably into your chest and thighs, mikasa and armin's broken screams as they kneeled on the ground beside sasha, paying no mind to how her blood was seeping into the fabric of their uniform, or connie's face as he staggered to his feet, taut with horror and such an indescribable grief as he stumbled into eren's holding quarters.

you were paralyzed, staring down at your friend, pale and still on the floor of the airship, your breathing so fast that you barely felt like you were getting any air in, heart a few frantic beats away from bursting in your chest. every part of you felt almost entirely numb, falling to your knees and unable to do nothing but gaze on at the scene before you. you couldn't believe that this was how it had all ended for sasha, after surviving three years of cadet training, four years in the scouts, countless expeditions outside the wall, even trips across the ocean—you couldn't believe that this was where sasha met her demise, on an airship away from home, at the hands of a child, still wondering about food until the very end.

visiting her grave was a dreary, surreal affair, and finding niccolo, the man who'd brought her so much joy through his cooking, so confused and anguished as he mourned despite having only known her for such a short amount of time. but even after he'd left with jean's arm around his shivering shoulders, and mikasa had murmured her soft goodbyes when she caught sight of the sun beginning to sink below to horizon, connie still remained, and you stayed behind with him.

only after everyone else had left did he allow himself to cry, trembling as he kneeled before her grave, head resting forward against the engraved headstone, tears dripping down onto the flowers that had been lain before it. he sobbed and cursed, clutching his hands to his chest, letting out the occasional strained whisper of "sasha.. y-you idiot.. why did you have to go and l-leave me behind so soon..?"

and you turned away to give him his privacy, letting your own tears roll freely down your face as you stared out into the orange sky. but eventually he fell silent, and you slowly knelt down beside him, gingerly placing a hand over his back. "connie, it's late, we should get going." you tried not to let your voice waver for his sake, forcing a small smile as you added on, "dinner'll be served soon. sasha wouldn't have wanted us to miss it."

he let out a wry chuckle, lifting his head to gaze at you with teary, wistful eyes. but they flickered back to her grave for just a brief second, and any semblance of a smile on his lips faded, features instead expressing such a raw, incessant sorrow. "things will get better one day, won't they? maybe sasha won't be there, but we'll live to see for her, won't we?"

you bit at the inside of your cheek, forcing down a sob threatening to shake you as you nodded, settling your other hand over his on the ground just as you had at the ruins of utgard.

"we will. i believe in us. i promise we'll see it for her."

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"connie locked himself in his room again."

that was all jean had to say before you were up on your feet, walking briskly down the halls to find him. your first few knocks at the door went unanswered, but you persisted, rapping at it more forcefully. "connie, please open up. it's me."

after a moment, you heard heavy footsteps staggering toward the door, uncoordinated hands wrestling with the knob's lock before it unlatched, the door swinging open to reveal your friend, eyes low and face flushed with intoxication, red cheeks gleaming with tears. but before you could say anything, he was tugging you in by the wrist, throwing the door shut behind you and locking it, stalking back over to his bed and seating himself on the edge of the mattress, balancing his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.

"don't want anyone else t' see me.." he faltered, and though you couldn't see his face, you could hear in his voice that he'd begun to cry again, "like this."

you felt your heart clench in your chest, taking in the state of his quarters. his sheets were messy and twisted, like he'd been thrashing about in his sleep, and the bottle of liquor that lay forgotten on the floor was completely empty, the only light being provided by the dim oil lamp burning in the corner.

"connie.." you sat beside him, arm curling around his shaking form.

"i just don't understand," he slurred, nails digging into his scalp, "i don't fuckin' understand what they did to deserve this! my m-mom, my dad.. sunny an' martin.. s-s-sasha... they were all good people.. why does everyone keep leaving me.. why does everybody keep dying..?"

you didn't know what to say, what could you possibly say to someone who had lost so much that hadn't been told to them a thousand times before? i'm sorry? it'll be ok? things will get better eventually? you didn't even believe that assertion yourself, despite having told him for the last four years over and over that the happiness he deserved—the happiness he'd earned through so much hardship—would come someday if he just believed it would.

"i don't know," you whispered, a hand gently coaxing him to sit up, settling on his warm, wet cheek to guide his gaze onto your face, "but you're still here for a reason. we both are. and i know that everybody we know who has died deserved nothing more than to live a long happy life free of all the shit that's going on now, but now it's our job to make sure everyone who has been lucky enough to make it this far will be able to see that happy ending we've all been working so hard for."

you couldn't help but cry alongside him with the way he was looking at you, with such admiration and sadness shining in his eyes, a trembling hand rising to rest over the one at his face. "do you promise?" he croaked, leaning into your touch, "do you promise that you'll live to see the end with me?"

"i promise." you said without hesitation, "i'll be with you every step of the way."

there was death looming over your shoulder just about everyday now, whether it was the thought of your own demise, or that of your remaining friends, or the nightmares of your fallen comrades that haunted your dreams, it was always there, ever-present, clinging to you like a dark shroud. but for now, in the flickering light of his room, his slender fingers threading between your own, his presence warm and comforting beside you despite the despair you shared, you felt like you could truly, honestly promise him that you two would make it.

and you didn't pull away when he leaned forward, eyes hazy, shining and full of more emotions than you could possibly discern, then gone as his lids fluttered shut. his kiss was tender, almost bittersweet, brackish with tears and sharp with the taste of alcohol on his lips, hand trembling as it squeezed yours. and for the moment, you relished in the feeling of him, in all his agony and adoration and steadfastness, every bit of him that you'd loved in so many ways for so long. and though you wished to stay as you were all night, you remembered the empty bottle at your feet, thinking about whether if you managed to put him bed now if he'd be able to get enough rest to sleep away the majority of the hangover he would be sure to have tomorrow.

so you pulled away, smiling at him, patting his cheek affectionately before you pulled yourself to your feet. "you need to get to bed soon. think about how much of a headache it'll be if you don't sleep this off."

"fine." he had sobered up enough to resign to your logic, standing with huff to join you, stooping low to snatch the bottle off the ground and dump it in the small wastebasket by his door as you flapped out his sheets.

you proceeded across the room to the lamp, pleased with yourself when you heard him clambering into bed behind you, moving to the window to shut his curtains before making your way back over to him.

"g'night."

"goodnight, connie." you bent down to plant a chaste peck over his forehead, able to see his face flush with the thin beam of moonlight peeking through the gap in the thin drapes, "i'll see you in the morning."

you left his room, making sure to quietly shut the door behind you, wandering back down the now darkened hallways to your quarters, an odd, but definitely not unwelcoming optimism for the future fluttering about in your chest—a future you could really believe in for the two of you to share.