#WAILING KICKING MY FEET SHRIEKING

[junekissed]

They made me think of youu 🫶🏻

HES SO. 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

[melon-moth]

every time a girl has to write a term essay an angel dies

[watatsumiis]

psst, check your kofi :D

WAIT

WAIT

OH MY GOSH??? IM GONNA CRY YOURE SO SO SO SWEET ???? YOU REALLY DIDNT HAVE TO DO THAT OMG 😭😭😭😭 BUT THANK YOU SO SO SO MUCH AAAAHHH

[just-some-user-hunny]

Yandere team green and bastard!reader

(Alicent edition)

. At your initial arrival, Alicent is filled with mortification. Her lips thinned, tongue held between her teeth, doe brown eyes wide and stern as she stands by her husband's side and awaits for the scolding Daemon is about to receive. To return you at once, as you should have no place in the castle walls. However she's not met with any of that- and she's both furious and offended by Viserys's standoffish acceptance of you.

Even Rhaenyra takes you into her arms, which adds salt to the wound. She wished she could shriek at her husband- to demand an explanation of his actions. Another bastard roams the halls, whilst you all turn a blind eye. I have legitimate heirs, whilst you treat them like air. So it's safe to say she's not terribly happy about your arrival.

The grand echoing hall was filled with the hushed whispers and murmurs as the grand wooden doors were heaved open in the snowy haired princes arrival- gossiping hushed voice arose like a tide amongst the people as Daemon swaggered in with his chin held high and mighty. All with a wailing, kicking child held firmly under his arm like they were a wild alley cat. His expression was unreadable, yet fierce.

Everyone fell still at the sight. Rhaenyra's face pales, her palm settling upon her naval in shock, and viserys simply gawks a little in confusion upon his seat at the iron throne. Jace and Luke shuffle closer to their mother.

"Daemon, what is the meaning of this?", viserys commands. Alicent squeezes her children's shoulders, tucking a young curious Helaena into her side, and a scrunched-brow Aegon behind her. Aemond is unreadable. She casts her husband a wary look, which goes unnoticed.

"I am returning my child home, brother. That is all".

"that is all?" Rhaenyra speaks up. Her voice trembles a little in anger. But her eyes fall upon you, and her expression immediately softens.

Viserys seems to be in deep thoughts, his brow crinkles, before he sighs deeply in defeat.

"bring them closer, let me see".

Alicent shoots him a look. Yet again, she goes unnoticed.

Your feet drag across the floor a little as you're forced to the foot of the throne. The hundreds of peering eyes that leer above you make you squirm and fall silent, afraid, and the courtroom is uncomfortably silent now, it seems everyone is holding their breath awaiting for the kings say. The man- Daemon, you've learnt, stands behind you like a wall. Your back pressed to the front of his legs, and his gloved hands squeezing your shoulders to keep you still.

You look upon the pale haired man who sits upon the frightening looking throne, which seems to be made from an accumulation of soldered swords. Jagged and glinting in the pale sunlight that streams through the tall windows. Your little head is still confused and overwhelmed, but the crown upon his brow confirms to you that this man who is inspecting you must be an important king.

"Hello, little one". Viserys greets you in a soft hushed voice, as if not to startle you.

You find yourself silently staring back at him, still wary. He looks you over- amethyst eyes glancing across the features of your face, before leaning back into his jagged throne.

"she has your eyes". Viserys simply remarks, a softened smile appears upon his face. Daemon smiles back, taut lipped and eyes glinting like embers. Pleased by his brother's response.

You're ushered quickly afterwards towards the pale haired woman who stands close, two dark haired boys hiding behind her with their mousy doe eyes and cherub faces. You don't particularly want to be touched by strangers right now, but her gentle touch upon your shoulder gives you a little comfort- a stark contrast to your new father's possessive iron grip. She shares a look with him, the two seemingly having a conversation with their eyes alone, but she folds you close to her regardless.

Alicent watches, burning. Eyes, throat, stomach. Churning and boiling.

. Alicent is distant and leering at the beginning. She watches you get coddled and swaddled up by Rhaenyra, her boys tending to you with their little faces and hands. Petting your hair, clumsily wiping away tears, and sharing their toys with you. She struggles with the reality that you are accepted by the king, discontent churning in her stomach.

. She does all she can to avoid you- even going as far to dissuade her children from interacting with you. At the dinner table, she treats you like you are invisible. In the day, she tugs Helaena away after she spots you two in the garden lifting rocks to watch bugs together, and she finds herself glaring at Rhaenyra and Daemon more often than usual.

. However, it is inevitable for her to fall into a maddening descent to ultimately adore you too. No matter how coldly she treats you, you always seem to peer up at her with your big mousy eyes back. Always in soft curiosity. She watches the way you treat helaena so kindly, the two little girls always seemingly playing in their own world and gently handing spiders to one another to save them from getting swatted in the throne room. She also finds herself growing more and more distraught whenever she catches Aegon tormenting you for your lineage, swatting and scolding him whenever he pulls your hair and calls you a bastard. She often finds herself wondering why. She should despise you, hate your very existence in this family, and yet she cannot find herself to.

. Perhaps it is because you too have very little autonomy and freedom in the scenario. Her heart aches whenever she sees you pressing your little face to the glass panes of windows, yearning to capture a glimpse of the oceans horizon. Or scrambling at locked doors and gates to escape, blubbered sobs leaving you as you call for your mother.

. The moment she finally gave into her yandere thoughts is when you bump into her one day, your ornate silk dress and shoes wet and worn down to scrap, running from a knight. You're an inconsolable wreck, having just been carried back in by a fretful knight after catching you bolt out of an unlocked gate outside in the courtyard. He had just been able to catch you once you were knee-deep in seafoam, crying and sobbing to go home.

With your little face buried into her emerald green skirts, she wryly dismisses the guard.

She hesitates, contemplating, before scooping you up from under your arms to hold you like a crying babe. You whimper and sob into her soft coils of chestnut hair, little hands scrambling to cling to her like she were a life raft.

"I want- I want my mummy".

. It was like her breath had frozen in her body. Mummy. You want your mummy.

Emotion swept through her at your words, her own waterline stinging. She understood now. You're trapped here, just like she is. Your mother is gone, just like hers.

Her breath stutters out in a long breath to steady herself, before she cradles the back of your head and tucks you closer. Your little legs cling around her waist as she soothes into your hair, uttering a soft "I know".

Me too.

. After that occurrence, and finding herself reluctant to hand you over to Rhaenyra once the fretful woman found you two, her view of you changed. She no longer ignored you at the dining table, often sending you kind and remorseful glances, her thumb brushing over your cheek tenderly. Tension grows thick between her and Rhaenyra, but she lets it linger. If it means she gets to speak and spend time with you, then let their little war go on longer.

. She often encourages playdates between Heleana and you, along with reading and language lessons with Aemond. Aegon, to her disheartenment, seems to want nothing but to torment you and keep your attention to himself- no matter if it's positive or negative attention. Aegon is often slapped and scolded whenever he treats you poorly, torn into with her protective and scorning words.

"You are not to touch her Aegon, do you understand? ' she'll scold, grabbing him by the ear as he hides away into himself like a door mouse and meekly nods. His eyes burning with tears as he watches you walk away hand in hand with Helaena, Aemond following close by your side.

. Alicent is keen to spoil you for attention, as well as Rhaenyra is. They both want you as their own. Alicent is keen to gift you beautifully ornate leather books with emerald green ink lettering and intricate illustrations, finding delight in your reactions when she gifts them to you herself. She may even gift you a stead of your own, despite Rhaenyra's or daemons dislike for the thought of you on a horse. She'll attempt to convince viserys to have you be allowed to learn to ride horseback on the grounds alongside her sons, just to give you a taste of 'freedom'. Although she may condemn your freedom, hypocrisy at its finest, she still wants to make you as happy as possible. It's also a way for her to make you get along with her children, using you almost as a tool to cement herself a safe standing within the family. You get along so well with them, after all. It'd be a tragedy to tear you away from Helaena, the poor girl will cry for months if that were to happen.

. So although it is a rocky start with Alicent, she eventually softens to you because how can she not? She sees a part of herself in you and grows protective and enraptured. The tension between her and Rhaenary thickens because of it, and it brings a growing conflict between the greens and blacks over where you stand. Eventually you may grow overwhelmed and tired of the war and the fighting and miscommunication and revenge, that you may ultimately take off on your dragon and disappear. Another name in the history books, your whereabouts a mystery, and your name a myth. But we may see where you end up eventually, and where you stand in the dance of the dragons is up to you.

A lot of these headcanons are based early on in season one. I'd like the reader to appear around the time that Daemon married Rhaenyra, so that they'd both be your parents in this scenario, and alicent would be a godmother figure to you. I'm still figuring out the timezone that the reader appears in considering the events that take place, like Aemond losing his eye, so I'd love to hear suggestions!

[cosycafune]

DON’T YOU SEE?

you’re scared, terrified. no matter where you go, ryomen sukuna’s always capable of finding you. you curl, hiding within every corner — but he discovers every limb of you. you long to run, but outrunning someone so powerful refrains from doing you any wonders. don’t you see? why won’t you see?

royalty sukuna x cursed user y/n. book acts: eventually smut, ptsd, terror, abuse, violence, murder, hysteria, breakdowns, distraction and more.

this is simply a small teaser. epilogue: fate’s fool. chapter 0.5.

Thunder etches upon your tainted environment. Your limbs are quivering with shock, dazed and heavy with blasphemous sins. There’s not a fragment of purity that reigns upon you, all of that is stored within the perished body at your nude feet.

Everything’s an ample, twisted sick mess — in the way your eyes exhibit fear, confusion and unshakable distraught. Nothing’s bound to measure up anymore, as you’re left with the choice of eternal punishment or a swift death.

You’ve slaughtered Lord Sukuna’s favourite royal advisor, all because he’s fingers longed to grasp upon you. You, someone who Lord Sukuna deemed as an innocent, untouchable muse — bound to be protected until the end of time lays.

However, you’re tarnished. Your ivory dress’ smeared with anchors of the wailing dead man’s blood. The blood’s taunting your haphazourdly self, glancing down at him — your fingers licked upon with fear for the first time.

Desperately, your eyes are abnormally wide — deathly hope flooding your pounding ears. All you could process is the light wisps of sound, the laughing thunder and the sound of your creeping demise.

Every sick act’s fated to fall in place, but you’re not fate’s fool today.

“Lord Sukuna’s going to murder me, the person he says is the face of innocence,” Frowning, flinching at the intensifying thunder, you mindlessly whisper.

“I was supposed to be his wife, freed of any sins for him,” Silently shrieking, impatient at the lifeless dead body, your heart swirls as your hoarse words fall.

“But now, the end of my reign is here,” Speaking with determined anger, you harshly kick Sukuna’s advisor’s defenseless body — your anger ruling the submissive thunder.

Unwilling to fathom your image being tainted by the sin of man, you continue to kick the man. Kick him for attempting to steal away your innocence, longing to romance you — only to threaten you with planned death.

The young man was keen on you being his own, accustoming to his unknown home and becoming his wife. Becoming a labour machine, delivering his children and raising them until they’re capable of individualism. Not once did you long to mould into his unworthy standard, you’re more than that.

You were.

“I fucking hate you, you greedy pig,” Stirred with disdain, you glance down at your bloody nightgown with a grin — feeling an ounce of sickly freedom.

“I’ve got to leave now or Lord Sukuna’s going to punish me, making me his eternal servant,” Fearful of the idea, you glance at the cooling thunder — looking outside towards the escapable garden.

After all, Sukuna gifted you the second best room — in hopes you one day become his betrothal. A betrothal he was bound to elope when you both turn twenty-one, but you had to leave now. There’s no future in a place that would discriminate against you, shunning you from the purified eternity that once longed for you to cosy in its parted arms.

“If I pretend to have died, too, Sukuna’ll find someone else,” Mumbling with levelheadedness, you search your room for your savings — picking out a stupidly large amount of money and a black clock.

A red clock, just so you could pair with the cloudiness of your untamed sin. A sin you have to coddle because of the greediness of someone else’s heart.

Out the balcony door you go, fleeing from an environment that once caged you within the best ways. Yet, now, you’re set to flee towards a secret cottage you built — away from everything you’ve ever known.

All you pray for is for Sukuna to not find you.

—

Don’t you see? Prologue status: completed.

—

Don’t copy, modify or claim my work to be your own. all rights reserved: cosycafune. 2024.

[thebest-medicine]

lee crybaby deku and ler kacchan “No way, are you crying?” (42)

Prompt 42 - “No way, are you crying?”

A/N: i love my sweet sensitive boy (and so does katsuki)

…

“Come on! Fight back or something, nerd! What, is it that bad?” Bakugo teased as he tormented the pinned hips of Midoriya, who lay face down on the ground under him, shrieking with laughter.

“GAHAHAHAHA- KACCHAHAHAHAN! STAHAHA- I CAHAHAN’T! WAHAHAHAHAA!” Izuku pounded his fists into the ground, his feet doing the same behind them both. The vibrating shocks of ticklish sensation never let up, never slowed down, and constantly swirled and changed enough to keep him completely on edge as to what would come next. All he knew is that it would tickle. Having grown up together, Katsuki had grown up knowing many of Izuku’s weaknesses, including all the spots he was the most ticklish. His hips were always a weak point — and Katsuki was a winner.

“Whatsa matter? Can’t take it?” Bakugo sneered victoriously. “This was too easy!”

Midoriya continued to wail with laughter beneath him, waves of tears starting to seep from his eyes. “KACCAHAHAHAHAAHA NOHOHOHOOHOOOO!”

“You give up, stupid nerd? You’re gonna let me win that easy?”

“WAAHAHAHAHY ALWAHAHAHAYS SO MEHEHEEAN KACCHAHAAHAN?!” Izuku cackled.

“Shut up!” Bakugo huffed. He leaned in to get a look at the nerd’s red face.

Deku was laughing unabashedly, smile wide and eyes squeezed shut. Tears leaked out of them like small rivers. “Oh man, no way, are you crying?” Something a little sadistic in him coiled and twitched. He felt warm. After drawing out a few more screams of laughter, Katsuki added. “Seriously? Is it that bad?”

“YEHEHEHEHEHES- HAHAHA HA NOHOHOHO PLEHEHEEHHEEASE! I GIHIHIHIVE UP! AHAHA STAHAHA- MERCYHEHEHEEE!” Izuku pleaded.

Part of him didn’t want to, wanted to push a little more, but he did stop then, upon hearing Izuku concede.

Midoriya nearly melted into the floor below him, barely able to move after the prolonged tickle attack on his worst spot.

“You’ve gotta get less ticklish there or something, nerd. You practically fall apart. It’s not even a challenge anymore!” Bakugo argued teasingly.

“Hm.” Izuku hit his fist against his palm with a smile. “Well, next time I’ll just have to go after your worst spot first thing!”

Bakugo sputtered, “hah-?” Then he scowled at him. “No way, you dork! I’ll kick your ass again in a second!”

“No way, I’m gonna beat you!”

“You don’t stand a chance!”

“You’re going down next time, Kacchan.”

“Do you wanna die?!” Bakugo shouted, lunging at Deku again and beginning to tickle.

“NOHOHOhohohoho not again! Kacchaahahahan! Not yehehehehet!”

…

[more sentence starter fic prompts]

[other sentence starter fics]

[read this & further MHA drabbles on ao3]

[ghostlyforxst]

GENDER: Gender Neutral Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere Tendencies, Inappropriate Language, Snake creatures (nagas), and Mentions of Gore

CHARACTERS: Bakugo Katsuki & kirishima eijirou

WORD COUNT: 638

You jolted from the bed, your heart rapidly thudding against your chest and your skin thinly coated with sweat, hearing screams and thumping of running feet emanating from the chaos that ensued outside. You kicked the covers from you and scrambled over to the window, your fearful eyes fixed on the lifeless bodies that muddled streets and the eldritch shadows who had slaughtered them.

"Y/N," Your mother fretted. "Come, we have to leave!"

She grasps your wrist, frantically, before yanking you from the window and out the bedroom.

"Where's father-"

Suddenly the door was thrown from its hinges, a continuous-angry hissing nearing with the drag of the beast's tail.

Your mother cursed under her breath, snatching you up and stowing you away in a chest.

"We're gonna play a game of hide and seek," your mother whispered, "Remain here, and do not abandon this spot. Regardless of what you hear, okay?"

"But-"

"Shh, we don't need you getting caught." She smiled, caressing your head and kissing your forehead before closing the wooden box.

You peeked through the gap, apprehensively, watching as the snake-like creature confronted your mother—constricting her with his prismatic-thickset tail.

"Damn humans, always thieving the happiness from the innocent." He snarled, his crimson irises and slitted pupils trembling with rage.

His hand raises shortly before he slashed her throat, letting her slump to the floor and suffocate in her blood. A whimper betrays you, capturing the serpent's interest. He flings the chest open, staring wide eyed at your weepy appearance. The man's scowl tenders, adoring your tiny features. He swoops you up into his arms, being oblivious of your floundering, and nestled you into his chest—inhaling your scent.

You smelt of pure innocence, as one of his snaklings. He frowned, those fucking humans must've taken one their young before deposing of the rest. Though you did differ from him; where your growing tail should've been was a pair of legs, your pupils were blown wide unlike his slitted ones, and as well as your teeth were unalike. But, he loved his snakling nonetheless!

His mate, Kirishima, was weeping and wailing for their departed youngins—Bakugo was worried for him. Though now that he found you, he was sure his mate would be rejoiced.

You perceived a second creature entering the room, a few hisses and shrieks exchanging between the both. Before you were quickly taken from the blond, and overwhelmed with hurried nuzzling and wailing. The serpent's ruddy tail curls up to cradle you and his hands pick at your clothes, believing them to be a loose layer of skin.

Yet his innocent gestures frightened you, you cried and shoved away from him—tumbling to the ground. You kicked from the floor, rushing out the front door to the end of the street. You round the corner, abruptly bumping into person.

"Y/N?" Your father questioned, crying as he embraced you. "Where's your mother!?"

You try to find the words to explain what had happened, fumbling with them. "the monsters killed her and-"

A full-throated roar resonating from where you had run from, your heartbeat faltering fearfully. The both of you glanced back, watching as both of the nagas slithered madly towards you and your father.

Your father snatches you by the wrist, running, and pulling you along. Bakugo lets out another roar, his wriggling tail hastening. He tackles your father to the ground and confines him with his ebony and orange spotted tail, his keen nails tearing through your father's skin.

Kirishima comes behind you, grabbing you.

"Quit it, please don't kill my dad!" You begged, struggling against the red head.

Bakugo backs away from your disfigured father, doused in his blood and bits of his flesh wedge beneath Bakugo's claws.

"You must be confused, little one. They were not your parents, we are!"

[itzsana-kiddingmenow]

𝙨𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙣 𝙙𝙖𝙮𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙡𝙚𝙚! 𝙛𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙭: 𝙙𝙖𝙮 6 — 𝙗𝙞𝙧𝙩𝙝𝙙𝙖𝙮 𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙚𝙣𝙩

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙨: 1k

𝙖/𝙣: @skznccmlee i don’t recommend you to read this, but the next one definitely 🙈

𝙩/𝙬: rough tickling, pinning, teasing

𝒍𝒆𝒆: felix

𝙡𝙚𝙧: han (changbin and chan are there too)

𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕: @someone-who-loves-kpop-saranghae @jeonginsdiary @leeknowstan33 @v--143 @wereallgonnadieonedaybutnottoday @inkytornpagess @lajanaa @a-wild-seungberry @channieissocute125 @soap143 @seungsluvv @skznccmlee @moony-9 @sunny-117 @minnielvrr

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠! 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐞? 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐮𝐛s🖤

It was Hannie’s birthday, and the air in the dorm was electric with celebration. The room was adorned with colorful streamers and balloons, and a stack of wrapped presents sat on the coffee table. 

Music played softly in the background, and laughter filled the space as the members chatted and enjoyed the food.

Jisung was…excited to say the least. It wasn’t the usual birthday routine for him; today, he had one very special wish. Everyone had gotten their turn with a certain brownie boy, and now he wanted his. He had been looking forward to this moment all week, and now it was time to make his unique birthday request.

“For my birthday wish…” He announced, blowing the candles of his cake out. “I want half an hour with Yongbok today!” He cheered as the other members whooped, the chick in question turning bright red all over as his eyes widened in surprise. 

“What?! Half an hour? Hyung, I can’t live through thattt…” Felix whined and tried to complain, but Jisung was shaking his head and approaching anyway. He leaned in to whisper in Lix’s ear. “If you’re good today…I might go easy on you.”

Lixie gasped as Jisung grabbed his waist and threw him over his shoulder, and the chick barely had any time to beg for help or even register what was going on until they had reached Hannie’s bedroom, the door was slammed shut, and he was helpless. 

“Hyung please please please—AHAHA!!” Felix shrieked as Jisung kneaded his side to weaken him before calling Chan, and the youngest knew immediately he was screwed. 

Before Yongbok even blinked, he was pinned not only by Chan, but Changbin too, the two eldest giggling at the opportunity as he tried his hardest to break out and couldn’t even budge. 

Jisung was not amused. “Tried to break free, eh? No mercy for you~” He made his fingers into claws, and Lixie squeezed his eyes shut at the flustering sight. 

Jisung’s fingers began to probe and tease his sides, the sensation making poor Yongbok squirm uncontrollably. “Stohohohop thahahat!! Ihihit tihihickles!!”

Changbin immediately moved to secure his ankles, placing the chick’s feet in his lap and causing Felix to look down at him in frantic horror. “Plehehehease nohoho…!”

Jisung decided it was time to be more rough, and he moved spots. 

Lixie squealed with laughter as Jisung’s fingers danced up and down his ribs, their touch light but persistent. Felix's pleas for mercy were muffled by his laughter, and it was clear that Jisung was thoroughly enjoying himself. “Awhhhh!! Best birthday present ever~” 

“PLEHEEHEHEHEASEE NOHOHOHO!!” Felix struggled, but the more he wriggled, the more he felt the ticklish sensations increase.

“He’s squirming like a fish!!” Chan laughed. He began to gently scratch at Felix’s armpits, his fingertips moving in slow, deliberate circles that made Felix squirm and howl with laughter. “STOHOP STOP STOP!! AGHAAHAHAAA!!”

Binnie went wild all over Lixie’s struggling legs, mostly aiming for his feet as he stretched them out and dragged his nails over the sensitive arches, and Felix kicked out with a wail as the sensations shot up his body. 

As the minutes passed, Felix’s laughter became more frantic, his body a whirlwind of twitching and writhing. Hannie’s grin widened with every new reaction he elicited. “Just a little longer, Bbokie.” he said, his voice warm with satisfaction. “I’m finally getting my chance this week.” 

Felix’s pleas for mercy grew more desperate, but his laughter only fueled his lers’ determination. 

Jisung’s fingers now focused on Felix’s lower belly, tracing intricate patterns that made Felix squeal uncontrollably. The intensity of the tickling reached new heights, and Felix’s laughter echoed off the walls. 

“HYUHUHUHUHUNG NOOO!! Pleheheasee dohohon’t!!” Poor Lixie was hysterical, hair tousled and eyes teary, face wet and red and lips pulled back in a wide, happy smile. 

Hannie smiled at the sight. “Oh, come on, Lixie. You’re just getting started. It’s my birthday wish, after all~”

“I CAHAHAHAHANT BREHEHEHEATHE!! STOHOP CHAHAN YOU BRAHAHAHAT!!” Felix shrieked as Chan curled his fingers against his armpits, alternating the speed and grazing of his nails and effectively driving poor Lixie insane. 

Chan frowned at that, but Changbin was having the time of his life near Lixie’s feet. “You’re quite the ticklish mess, baby~” He cooed. “How does it feel to be the center of attention like this?” His fingers traced patterns on the sensitive soles. Felix’s toes curled and his laughter turned into frantic screams.

Felix squealed in response, releasing another wave of tears as he cackled endlessly, squirming weakly and begging until his voice cracked. 

The combined efforts of Jisung, Chan, and Changbin created a tickling frenzy that left Felix in a constant state of giggles and desperate pleas. 

The sensation was overwhelming, and Felix’s begging only seemed to encourage his tormentors. “STOHOHOHOP Ihihim gohohonna dihihihieee!!!” He weakly wailed out, and the lers decided to take pity on the ticklish mess of a boy beneath them. 

Finally, as the half-hour mark approached, Jisung’s fingers began to slow. He stepped back, his face flushed with the thrill of the tickling, while Chan and Changbin eased their grips, allowing Felix to relax. 

Lix slumped completely, voice spent and eyes tired. “Hyung...” He slurred. “You’re really something. I’m gonna get you back so bad for this.” 

Jisung smiled down at his sleepy twin. “Okay, okay. Just sleep now, you need rest.” He sighed, pulling Felix into his lap and wiping away the chick’s tears with his thumb. 

“Happy birthday, hyung~” 

“Thank you, Lixie. You made it way more special.” 

“Mmm…”

“But let’s see what happens tomorrow, hm?~”

[thehollowwriter]

Warnings: Blood, injury (but nothing too major). Word count: 1364

Summary: A fic for @natsukishinomiyaswife 's event! Finn's working on first aid for Iago's Paradise and is really on his last nerve. Luckily, a surprise visit from @theleechyskrunkly 's Aurinelle seems to cheer him up. (Leechy lemme know if I wrote him right 😭)

(Pls reblog and leave a comment ♥️)

First Aid Blues

If there was one word that would describe how Finn felt right now, it would be irritated.

In the shade of the first aid tent, the little shark sat with one leg crossed over the other, a scowl on his face.

He felt hot. Clammy. It was an absolute nightmare, especially when paired with the horrid sensation of his scrathy vest and slightly too tight shorts.

The pool of cool water a few feet away from him sparkled in the sunlight like an enticing gem, almost trying to lure him into its depths.

"Come here, come heeereeeeee," it seemed to call.

Well, firstly, it was crowded in there with other sweaty people laughing, shrieking, and generally making a ruckus. Do you have an idea what sweat consists of? You don't want to know. Secondly, Finn was on duty, working, so he couldn't go even if he wanted to.

"Nobody caaareees" sang the pool. "Come anywaaaaay."

"Be quiet." Finn told it.

"Fine, your loss." It replied, then went silent.

Finn drummed his fingers against his thigh, quietly observing the students working on his team.

There weren't many students in first aid. The idea of taking an elective that involved helping others and seeing nasty injuries from sports like magishift, even though you got extra credit, turned away many a Night Raven College student.

NRC's first aid team for sporting events was laughably small, especially when compared to that of Royal Sword Academy, which seemed to pull in volunteers by the dozen.

The other four or five students sharing the tent with Finn were paired off or sitting alone, chatting, scrolling through their phones, or laughing when somebody slipped near the pool.

This bunch was mostly in it for the credit, and in true NRC fashion, put in maximum effort for minimum work whenever they could, leaving a lot of the workload to Finn.

Finn would have kicked them out long ago if it wasn't impossible to operate completely alone.

Finn shifted his gaze away from them to watch the other people at the pool, observing them laugh and swim and eat ice cream, seeming to have the time of their lives.

A gentle breeze began to blow, and Finn relaxed a bit as it cooled him down. Though he wasn't exactly... calm, it was far too loud and crowded for that, it was still a nice moment. Watching everyone else have fun wasn't all that bad.

Shouts of alarm interrupted his thoughts, and Finn sighed.

'What now?' He thought, standing up and walking towards the commotion to find Ace both clutching his heavily bleeding knee and a big stick, surrounded by the rest of Finn's team.

Finn crossed his arms and stood next to them, watching them yap and bicker and waiting for them to do something

"Well?" He asked after a while. "You're not here to do nothing. Do your job." His voice was soft as always, but they all heard him just fine.

"But there's so much blood!" Wailed one. "It's making me feel sick."

"I did not put in this much work into my summer outfit to have my appearance potentially ruined by some idiot bleeding all over it!' Cried another.

"That bastard copied off me. I'm not helping him." Growled a third.

Finn's eye twitched as the chorus of complaints continued.

'Why,' He asked himself, like he did almost every single time there was something to do. 'Why do any of you even take this elective if you don't want to be near blood or help someone?'

"Move," He snarled out loud. "Shut up and move, I'll do it."

Ace's face went pale upon seeing him, and the card soldier began blabbering about being fine, but Finn ignored him.

There was a tiny hole in Ace's knee. It wasn't actually that bad of an injury, but it still seemed to gape forebodingly, like it wanted you to freak out when you saw it.

"How'd this happen?" Finn asked tiredly.

Ace almost didn't hear him. "Oh- uh... tripped and got stabbed with a stick." He held up the stick in question and waved it around for emphasis. "See?"

"I see."

Ace would be fine. It wasn't anything serious. Finn pressed a clean cloth against it to stop the bleeding, then cleaned and bandaged it.

"Keep an eye on that." He told Ace firmly. "I put some cream on for you. You should be able to get more from Sam. Just keep using it, and make sure you keep that covered."

His tone was flat and tired as he told Ace what signs of infection to look for and what else to do if he saw any, and when the ginger left, he turned around and clenched his teeth to resist the urge to bite someone.

"It was not that bad," He told the others. "He handled it better than you lot did. It's just some blood. You need to get over yourselves."

"But prefect!" Came a chorus of voices, and they all started complaining again.

"'It's just some blood' is something a psychopath would say!'

"They showed us those videos of nasty injuries during training- like gore type shit- and you didn't even react! I nearly threw up. It's not fair that you want us to be on the same level as you!"

"Well, you handle it just fine every time. Do we really need to do anything?"

"I'm just here for the extra credit, I don't want to get involved in that shit."

"Shut up, or I'll make you watch those videos again." Finn snapped, and they all went quiet.

He went and sat back down, and the others returned to a low chatter. He could feel a headache coming on already...

When he was first appointed "prefect" of the first aid committee slash team slash portfolio, he was delighted. Now, though, he wondered if maybe they should scrap the whole thing and hire actual medics instead. At least they wouldn't get into arguments with each other and waste time getting mad at the other school's first aid team.

Finn was irritated before, and now he was, well, still irritated but also pissed.

'I swear to the Sea Witch, if they all throw a fit again next time, I'm gonna blast them across the pool and-'

A pair of hands grabbing his own made him jerk in surprise and look up to find the familiar face of Aurinelle pouting down at him.

Finn stared for a moment. "Hello, Aurinelle. What's wrong?"

"Oh, Finn," Aurinelle whined. "My dearly beloved, once again, I've found myself to be very injured. And ill, so very ill."

The siren in question looked perfectly fine. Finn raised an eyebrow, amused. "What is it, then?"

"It's just horrible, I'm all bruised and broken and ill with... love sickness! The only cure is kisses and cuddles."

Finn made a sound that was a mix between a laugh and a sigh. "I'm on duty, Aurinelle."

For an abyssal merman, his boyfriend was very good at giving him puppy eyes."Exactly! You should help me!

The others were staring and bewildered, but Finn ignored them and instenad pulled Aurinelle down so they were eye level.

"Fine, but your full 'treatment' can wait until my shift is over." He said and pressed a soft kiss to Aurinelle's lips.

Aurinelle looked delighted, or at least, to Finn he did. To most others, he still seemed as unexpressive as ever.

"Go have a swim. You're overheating." Finn murmured. "You can come by later."

"Alright, fine," Aurinelle relented. He kissed Finn's cheek and smiled a small smile. "I'll see you later. I love you."

"I love you," Finn replied in a whisper, watching Aurinelle leave with a content expression.

The rest of his team stared, slackjawed, in a state of disbelief.

"Mind your own business," Finn told them, sounding much less venomous than he thought he would. He wasn't quite as irritated as before. Seeing one of his partners made him feel better. Happier.

They slowly went back to shaf they were doing before and Finn sighed, finally a bit more relaxed.

Maybe after his shift, he'd consider joining Aurinelle in the water.

.........................................

A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed reading this! I really had a lot of fun writing this little fic, and a bit of Finelle, too!

Tagging: @distant-velleity @br3adtoasty @rainesol @theleechyskrunkly @jovieinramshackle

@galaxies-and-gore @cyanide-latte @cynthinesia @officialdaydreamer00 @krenenbaker

@offorestsongs @kitwasnothere @elenauaurs @boopshoops @inotonline

@1dont-really-know @kazumify @minteasketches @elysia-nsimp @skrimpyskimpy

@casp1an-sea @offorestsongs @tixdixl @poisoned-pearls @the-trinket-witch

@ramshacklerumble @ghostiidasponk @thegoldencontracts @the-banana-0verlord @cloudcountry

@skriblee-ksk @twstinginthewind @lumdays @theolivetree123 @natsukishinomiyaswife

@authoruio @jewelulu @raguiras @honeynclove @moonyasnow

[zoeyslament]

going quietly

estelle kelley has visions. unthankfully she’s gotten used to them

Estelle opened her eyes slowly. She knew exactly where she was…or rather, she knew where she wasn’t, and that was home. The scene in front of her was like something from a dream; cold and inhospitable, yet she’d gotten so used to the whirl of light and sound and eyes, bloody blinking eyes, that it was almost familiar, nostalgic.

The sky was hued like lavender, the hills that rolled beneath it coated in twitching, tweaking eyeballs, all turning to stare at Estelle the moment her own lids had fluttered open. And from the ground beneath her feet, she could practically hear the squish of the gooey orbs as she took a step. On the outside, chances were she was sobbing, if not already passed out. 

She called it dreamland. Or at least, that’s how she described it to Zoey. She could hear the stress in her loved ones’ voices: “is she going to dreamland? Is that why she’s like this?” Always happened at the worst times, but calling it something so innocent made it better, at least she hoped.

She ignored the unease and took a breath. The air here didn’t have the same refreshing quality as it did in the real world, it flooded her nostrils like a tidal wave, thick with the scent of blood and musk. 

She took another step, the jelly-like texture of the eye she’d toed at making an uncomfortable squelching noise. The whole world was staring at her, whether from high in the sky or from right beneath her feet. The initial comfort had worn off and the eyes stared deep into her soul.

Back when the visions first started happening, Estelle would wail and whine in protest, kick and scream and throw a fit, loud enough to alert at least someone to what was happening. Now she went quietly, slipping away into dreamland before anyone noticed what was wrong. 

She was used to it.

Just like her mother must have been.

As Estelle took step after step, she began to lose sight of where she started. Not that it was all that hard, there wasn’t a single landmark to really put anything into perspective, but she continued this way, or perhaps that way, over, under, inside out and upside down, whirling, twirling, blinking, blinking, blinking–

Another figure.

She had never seen another person here. Who else could have been here? Who else was Blinky tormenting?

It was a woman, that was clear as day, or night, really. The cycle didn’t work well here. She was about the same height as Estelle, with the same ginger curls, the same button nose and caramel-brown eyes, the plump pink lips and the soft skin dotted with freckles.

It was like looking into a mirror, like staring at the branches of your own family tree. 

Estelle held her arms out for an embrace, waiting to crash into her mother’s arms for the first time in twenty-one years. 

“Estelle! Jesus Christ, are you okay?” Callum’s hands clutched her shoulders, shaking her. She wearily came back to reality. 

She was sitting on a chair in the living room on top of Zoey’s lap, with Callum standing in front of her looking panicked. “We thought you were dying, why didn’t you let us know you were going?”

“No need. I have to go, I…I miss my mom.”

“She’s going insane.” Callum threw his hands up. “Estelle, listen. Your mother is not alive!”

“She is there!” Estelle shrieked, only calming down when she felt Zoey’s hands on her sides.

“You gotta tell us when it happens.” She whispered.

“You can’t just go quietly.” Callum added.

Estelle shrunk down against her girlfriend, the lingering scent of her mother’s perfume settling in her nose.

[ember-owlet]

hii :] no idea if you have open requests or are even active but i saw u write for tlou and got so excited! do u have any agere!ellie and cg!joel hcs :3c?

a/c : eee i absolutely love this request!! i will take any and all excuse to write for my favorite media (/lh) unfortunately it was sent in while i had my requests closed but i appreciate your patience in this being answered! i'm not sure if you had a preference for the show or the game but i tried to keep it as ambiguous as possible. i hope you enjoy the headcanons firelight, some of the themes i plan on making into a fic of one day ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

dynamic: cg!joel x regressor!ellie

content warnings: since the hcs take place around this time in the game, heavy theme mentions of trauma flashbacks with david and ellie vent regresses as a result. ((stay safe little firelights, you can always come back to this when you're ready.))

once joel and ellie reached sanctuary in jackson, the pair had finally found time to rest and not live every day in fear for their safety and needs for survival

with all of this time ellie would sometimes find herself staring at the ceiling of her home, paralyzed with fear

she'd felt so helpless and weak; like a rabbit in the jaws of a hungry wolf. she hated when her mind would go back to that time, and the endless possibilities overflowed her brain with the worst. if she hadn't grabbed the knife, what then?

the hot tears flowed as a pained shriek emerged from her throat with everything that she had.

joel would burst through the doors, his adrenaline kicking in to find ellie's room a complete mess, papers scattered and torn aimlessly around the room, drawers and tables with deep serrated marks across the oak surface and a helpless shaking form holding herself together in the middle of all of it

springing into action joel would remove the switchblade with effort from her relentless grasp, approaching her with gentle repetition of her name.

"ellie, ellie. it's me. it's me."

he would wait until she had locked eyes with him to touch her arm with the lightest trace of his fingers, waiting for a response until pulling her into a tight embrace against his form, clenching onto her so she'd never have to slip from his grasp again. "oh, babygirl..." his breaths were unconfident and tattered but yet she felt so secure from the pressure of his embrace.

she would not know how to respond, buried into the warmth of him holding her; her mind was a jumbled mess that devolved into incoherent babbles and stutters, grasping at him in response as a desperate plea to never let her go.

in another overwhelming physical response she would wail into him, responding in battered pounding to his chest as she trembled.

she was mad at everything; how he left her to fend for herself, how scary the world was, and how much she had missed him in all of it. how could she even think that? it wasn't his fault, and he did the best that he could. back and forth she fought with herself which frustrated her further into the headspace. and despite how awful she's been why does he still continue to hold her so tight?

"i got you. i got you. i'm here and i'll never let you go again." his voice cutting through the sniffles and sobs.

after a minute when she would give in to the exhaustion and slump further into the floor joel swiftly lifted her off her feet and sitting atop her bed, his arm positioned across her body as she fell into the crook of his side.

he would hum to fill the silence, rocking her back and forth to their own tune. the feeling of the vibrations against her ear would help to soothe her. he would wait and hold her forever if that is what she needed.

when she mustered the strength to stand upright on her own he would help her to clean the mess, asking her the occasional yes or no questions to fill the silence and watching for the simple shake of her head.

he would make his best attempts to find a pun or a small joke to see if he could crack a smile from his kiddo, but wouldn't take it to heart if all he got in return was a shy grin.

for the rest of the day he'd be sure to dote on her, bringing her around with him on his errands, and doing everything he could to make it comfortable for her fragile state.

and lord help anyone who dares to give his kiddo even the slightest passive aggressive look. especially when he's in protective mode.

all that mattered to joel was ellie's safety and happiness, and he would do anything and everything to be there when she needed him.

[miracles-and-butterflies]

Snippet from Severed Threads AU: Mirabel begging Dolores for help.

The clock struck three in the afternoon.

It was time.

“I want some air,” she said, her voice hoarse. “I feel faint.”

“I’ll get a guard to unlock one of the windows for you,” Señora Rosario replied. The older woman was already standing, the grasp on Mirabel’s hand becoming loose.

“No,” Mirabel wailed, “The windows are too small. I need to go outside.” She rushed towards the main door before she could be questioned, the fabric of her skirt clustered in one hand to make it quicker, her spare hand knocking hard. A key turned in the lock and the door open. A guard peered at her questioningly. “Help!” She gasped. “I feel like I’m going to faint.” And she half-collapsed against him.

“Get help!” He told the other guard, putting an arm around to steady the girl.

As his fellow guard hurried off, Mirabel twisted her body out of the man’s grasp and flew down the opposite corridor to the stairwell, leading to the garden. She could hear the guard’s feet pounding on the floorboards behind her and his cries of “Come back! Stop!” Fortunately, the stairwell was deserted. The guards were elsewhere, maybe at court. The door to the garden too was unlocked - thank God she didn’t have to waste time with the key!

Her plan was working out as she had prayed it would. At that very moment, Dolores, Mariano, and Señora Guzmán, appeared by the metal fence. The first thing she noticed was how old and distressed her cousin looked. She shook herself from it, she only got one chance at this; she couldn’t let fly by her.

“Dolores!” She exclaimed. “Prima!”

The group stopped in their tracks. Dolores turned her head in her direction, then looked away, her expression set like stone. The guard caught up with Mirabel and grabbed her from behind. 

She screamed. “Lola! Please, listen to me! I beg of you!”

As she struggled in the man’s arms, she saw Dolores hesitate. Mariano put an arm around her and they turned their back on Mirabel, walking off in another direction, Mariano’s grandmother following. In desperation, she kicked at the guard between the legs and managed to stumble away from him as bent over, wounded. She forced a hand through the fence and tried to reach for Dolores.

“Lola!” She cried out again. “You have to help me - you have to know I’d never do anything like that to anyone! Much less our Abuela! Help me!”

The guard clearly wasn’t too badly hurt, as he was suddenly back, ripping her away from the fence. Dolores looked over her shoulder at the abrupt sound with misty eyes. She didn’t say a word, she didn’t do anything. Just watched Mirabel. But she was already being dragged and held firm to keep her from acting out again.

“Please! Dolores! Dolores, please!” 

The other guard had now arrived on the scene and the pair of them dragged her back inside and up to her room. Mirabel was like a mad thing, screaming and crying, wild with fear, knowing that all of her family had now abandoned her and that all was lost. When, finally, they bundled her back into her room, she was still struggling, still shrieking. Señora Rosario approached her and took her off to the bed, where she made her lay down. She gave in, whimpering like an animal in pain.

“They have left me!” She sobbed, when at last she could speak. “I don’t want to die!”

“Who said anything about dying?” Asked Señora Rosario, briskly. “I have to say, I didn’t think you’d have it in you to pull something like that off.”

“What does it matter, when she walked away?! I was crying out to Dolores, and she walked away.” She kept reliving the moment over and over again, in her head. “My own family will have me killed. They have left me to die!”

“That’s nonsense,” Señora Rosario said sharply. “Hey, listen to me. You haven’t done anything wrong. Your family love you. They won’t leave you here, and they won’t have you killed. These men are trying to tell you things to get in your head. They are trying to break you. Can’t you see that, Mirabel? You’re better than this. Pull yourself together. You aren’t helping your case.”

But, Mirabel was now far beyond good advice. She lay there, silently crying, her body convulsed with fear. 

[blackjackkent]

In-game, Hector got the killing blow, but realistically, story-wise... we give it to Karlach. :D

This scene is so brutally, heart-obliteratingly sad that I don't know if I did it any justice. But I tried. There's a video at the bottom.

--------

She stands over him, covered in his blood. Enver Gortash, erstwhile usurping Archduke of Baldur's Gate, lies sprawled on the marble floor where he fell when Hector kicked his legs from under him, and his face is convulsed in a rictus of agony. Karlach's blade has gone through his throat, pinning him to the stone. A puddle of crimson spreads slowly out from his body.

For a long time, no one says anything. The room is silent as a tomb except for harsh breathing and the soft sizzling sound of Jaheira's wildshape melting off her. Even Minsc is silent - though Hector can see, out of the corner of his eye, what it is costing him not to leap towards the ceiling in a victory cry. Even Minsc, oblivious as he often seems to nuance, knows this moment has not yet run its course.

Karlach stares down into the dead man's eyes, leans on the hilt of her sword. "So..." she says hoarsely. "Gortash is nothing more than a pile of flesh, same as the rest of us."

Hector slowly, methodically wipes the blood from his knuckles and watches her in silence. He knows every line of her face, every subtlety of her voice; he can see the storm of emotion working behind her eyes, too complex to name. He doesn't speak, but shifts himself slightly so he is standing next to her - at her elbow and slightly behind, within easy reach for when she wants him, but not intruding.

You can sense she's working something out; say nothing.

(A/N: I love this as an option so FUCKING much for Hector; thank you, game.)

"I feel like there should be a sunset to ride off into," she goes on after a little while, a low mutter. "Or an orchestral swell... or *something*." She turns slightly to meet Hector's eyes, and the bitter grief in her expression strikes him like a blow to the stomach.

"But there's nothing, is there?" Her voice is louder now. "I killed the bastard who ruined my life, and my prize is that I get to crawl into a corner and die." Louder still now, a roar of pain and anguish. She rips the sword from the dead man's throat, sending a splatter of blood across them both. "Am I FUCKING missing something?!"

She screams it at him, and he has no answer. Hearing her in such pain is like a physical thing in his chest, ripping at his heart, but he has no answer to give. The whole situation is agonizingly, brutally unfair and her rage is the only reasonable response to it.

He wishes he could take her in his arms, hold her and soothe her as she has held and soothed him through so many nightmarish moments, and somehow make it all go away, all the pain she's gone through and the terrible fate lying ahead.

But he can't. All he can do is listen; if it brings her any peace to expend her rage at him and the dead body in front of them, who is he to deny it?

But gods, it hurts him to hear her hurting.

Say nothing.

"I can't do it anymore," she snaps. Spinning, she slams her gauntleted fist into the wall; the shrieking clang of metal on stone makes Hector's ears ring. "Ten years, man! It's enough. It's ENOUGH!"

She catches her breath in a short harsh gasp, stares down at Gortash's body again, and then lashes out with a sharp kick at his skull. "He's dead!" she snarls, like a wounded animal. "And he's no *fucking* sorrier than he was before."

She rounds on Hector, her eyes wide, demanding an answer now. "What was the point?" she cries out. "I'm still dying!" The reality of it seems to sink through her even as she says the words; the deep red of her skin pales and she sways a little on her feet. "I'm dying," she repeats, a desperate wail of despair. "I'm going to die!"

He swallows, holds himself still with a force of will that is painful. Every time she says that, every time she reminds him of it, all he wants to do is sink to his knees and weep, but he can't... he can't. He has to be strong for her, as she has been for him.

But what can he possibly say, what can he possibly do that would make any of this all right? He can't say they will fix it, because she'll know it's a lie. He can't say she can go back to Avernus, because she'll know it's a dismissal of everything that's most important to her, and he won't do that to her. But what else can he say?

"But you're not dead yet," he says haltingly, forcing himself to hold her gaze, not to look away or try to hide from the moment even though he desperately wants to. "I'm here with you. And I will be until the very end."

He hesitates, reaches out a hand cautiously towards her arm, but she flinches away.

"Don't say that!" she snaps. "Say you found some way to fix me! That now Gortash is dead, I'll get my heart back."

Her voice cracks, and in that breaking he hears the shattering of a hope that was still lurking in her, so deep she didn't even acknowledge it to herself, let alone to him - the feeling that somehow if Gortash died it would make everything better, that some solution heretofore unseen would present itself.

But Gortash is dead. And nothing else has changed.

She sags, her shoulders slumping, and closes her eyes. "My heart..." she whispers brokenly. "It was mine... and they TOOK it!" He can see the effort with which she is trying to hold onto her emotions, but it's a vain attempt; her voice begins to rise again, into a strident scream of desperation and misery.

"I'm going to be as dead as Gortash any day now. Any *moment*. And what then? Off to the City of Judgment to waste into oblivion? Into the dirt to get eaten by maggots? Is that it for me?! IS THAT FUCKING ALL?!"

The flames rise again, bursting across her skin, consuming without destroying, all the rage and pain manifesting itself in the coruscating eruption from within, from the engine that is killing her.

"And you!" She roars it in his face and the words are like a curse, like a slap. "You'll just keep going, won't you?! Watching the stars. Warming your hands on the campfire. Dancing, eating, making fucking love all night - all of it, all of it!"

He flinches. He knows she doesn't mean it, that she is lashing out at anyone within striking distance, and yet the blow still strikes home as if she's cut out his heart. No, my love. No, when you die I will be a shell of who I was before; there will be no one and nothing else...

On some level she must know that she's cut him to the quick, but she is too far gone to rein anything in right now. The flames are turning to an inferno again, a raging ball of heat causing the very air to boil around her; he can feel the skin on his forehead and cheeks pulling, but he refuses to step back, to look away.

"That's my reward for everything I've suffered!" she roars in his face. "That's why I survived TEN YEARS of torment! The fighting, the clawing, the loneliness-- the *fucking* loneliness-- all of it, so I could ROT! Because the person I trusted the most gave me away to the devil!"

He can't bear it anymore, the pure pain and screaming rage in her voice, in her eyes. Without hesitation, without even thought, he raises his hands and reaches out towards her; as he moves, the pale gold light of all the protection magic he knows rolls up and over his body and he hurls himself into the flame, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her savagely against him.

It's a risk-- perhaps nothing will calm her and the heat will simply consume them both...

But his guess - his instinct - holds; at his touch, his embrace, she flinches, and for a moment the heat burns through the magic and he feels a wave of searing agony... and then less...

The flames start to calm, and her whole weight, armor and all, sags into him, and he staggers with the effort of holding her up. The inferno fades, replaced by the heavy thundering pulses of heat that are her usual heartbeat at twice its usual pace. Her face presses into his shoulder and she sobs bitterly, brokenly, muffled by the cloth of his tunic.(*)

"It isn't fair... I don't want it like this..."

He steadies himself, finding balance with her weight, and presses his face against the top of her head, the fingers of one hand burying themselves in her hair. Blue light mixes with the gold as healing magic pulses from his palms. He wishes it could heal more than the burns, that it could do anything to soothe the ache in their souls.

But in a terrible way... it is good to hear her cry. So many months she has known she is dying and he has never seen her break down. Even he-- notoriously and often unhealthily self-controlled-- has broken down in her arms more than she has broken down in his.

"Let it out," he whispers. His voice trembles and for once he doesn't bother to try and stop it. "It's about time..."

"I don't want to die..." The words are broken and clipped off by frantic, staccato gulps of air between sobs. "I want to live. I want to *stay*..."

Her fingers fist into the back of his shirt, pulling him tighter to her. Her voice drops to a shattered, hollow whisper, pleading for some answer that isn't there. "What the fuck am I supposed to do now...?"

He has no answer. He asks himself the same question, many nights lying awake beside her, watching her sleep and wondering how in all the hells he will manage when she is gone...

He has told himself, so many times, that he will not demand that she make her decisions for his sake, and yet it is still so hard not to throw himself on the floor at her feet, beg her to travel with him into Avernus, to save his heart at the cost of her principles.

But he will not. He will not. He respects her too much, loves her too much...

"That's... for you to decide..." he says unsteadily.

With a sudden harsh jerk, she pulls away from him, steps back; her face twists with bitter regret. " I ought to just end it all now," she mutters, looking away from him, examining a long crack in one of the stones in the wall. "On my terms."

A long silence. Hector's arms fall back to his sides and he watches her, not bothering to hide the anguish on his face now.

She lets the silence stretch, then shakes her head and laughs harshly. "But then who'd save this godforsaken town?"

She reaches out and runs her fingers along the crack and lets out a heavy breath. "Let's get out of here," she says, her voice suddenly curt and sardonic, the pain shoved back into hiding again. "I've always hated this place. Stupid fucking gigantic bridge or whatever. I... think I need to go to camp for a while. Be alone. Scream at the sky." A slight pause. Her tone softens almost imperceptibly. "You can... come and find me later, if you want to."

With visible effort, she turns and meets his eyes again. After studying him for a moment, she lifts a hand and presses her palm against his cheek. "Thanks for listening." The ghost of a smile, here and gone in an instant. "For existing." A pause; she swallows tightly. "Love you."

Without waiting for an answer, without giving him time to say it back, she turns and walks away, her boots leaving bloody prints along the marble floor.

-----

"Are you all right, cub?" Jaheira asks gently.

Hector stirs, startled. How long has he been staring at the place where she stood? "I-- what?"

She snorts softly. "Nothing. A foolish question. Of course you are not all right." She lays a hand briefly on his shoulder, jerks her head to indicate the body on the floor. "We have stripped him. The stone is here, of course. A key. Some letters. Little else of interest, unless you take interest in clothing more concerned with finery than function."

"Yes. Of course. Good," he says hollowly. "You and Minsc are-- not too hurt?"

"Burns. Scratches. We will mend in time," she says with a slight shrug. There's a pause. He can see her wrestling with the urge to speak again, uncertain in a way he is not used to from her.

"What is it?" he asks.

She draws a slow breath, lets it out in a careful hiss. "I lost my husband, you know, cub."

His head lifts slightly. Yes, he does know this; the histories he read in the monastery spoke of Khalid, Jaheira's husband - at her side in the battle against Sarevok... and then killed by Irenicus in Amn.

"I... do not say this to offer any pleasant platitudes that time heals all," she goes on. "But only to say that you are not as alone as you feel, just at present."

He swallows. "I would not wish this feeling on anyone. I am... so sorry," he mutters.

"Nor would I," she agrees. "But there is more comfort in being of a pack than being a lone wolf, I think." A pause. "I lost Khalid almost at once, a flash; you are granted the knowledge in advance. I will not speculate on which is worse, and in any event it does not matter. What comes after... I can tell you only of my experience."

He searches her expression, looking for any scrap of comfort. "Did it fade, in time? The pain?"

She looks back at him steadily. "Some days it is far away. Other days it is as if it happened yesterday. There were many days when I was not sure how I would go on without the knowledge that he was standing by my side. But I have found ways to live, nevertheless. And..." She hesitates, considers her words. "I am glad for the pain, because it means that the joy was also real. If it meant nothing, it would not hurt."

He manages a slight, shaky smile. "Wisely spoken. You would make a fine monk."

"Mm. I think not. But I know you mean it as a compliment. So thank you." She sighs. "You will be all right, cub. I know it does not feel like it, and I know perhaps you do not even want to be, right now. But you will be. And Karlach..." She trails off, smiles sadly. "She is strong, far too strong to deserve such a fate. But she will be the stronger, to have you beside her - of this I am sure."

He swallows, reaches out and grabs her hand in a sudden, fierce grip. "Thank you," he whispers. "I will try to remember..."

-----

* Terribly self-indulgent artistic license, obviously. Pretty much everything other than the dialogue is from here, to be honest.

-----

A/N: So anyway, it's 3AM and I've been trying for two and a half hours to write about this scene effectively. If I'm honest, I'm pretty proud of the writing I've been able to do about Hector and Karlach's relationship specifically, but goddamn. There's only anything to write about at all because of the in-game dialogue being so extraordinary and this scene has torn my heart out. And there's a followup one in camp that is almost equally sad but that's going to have to wait until tomorrow I guess.

Anyway, here's a video of the scene itself because, as usual, the voice acting is what really sells all of it and I just... yeah.

Anyway thank you for reading. <3

[wishitweresummer]

Like a Puzzle (Dream x GeorgeNotFound)

Word count: 838

This is for Mushie’s lee!George week! This is Day 2 and the prompt is Ribs.

     "Well, yeah. We are perfect for each other.". George looked up from the couch over to Dream at the sound of his voice. He scoffed at his smirk.

"No we are not.".

"We are.". Dream watched him from his spot against the doorframe.

     It was a pretty typical scene in the Dream Team house; Dream jokingly flirting George into oblivion. Dream was referring to some Tweet from earlier in the day, but there had been so many that George couldn't possibly know which one.

"You're an idiot.", George said with a smile. Dream narrowed his eyes. He had that glint in his eye when he was scheming.

"C'mere.".

"No.".

"George.".

"Dream.". Dream groaned loudly.

"Come on, just come here. Don't be a baby.".

     George rolled his eyes and got off the couch, he stepped in front of Dream and crossed his arms.

"What?". Dream moved close and wrapped his arms around George quickly, placing his chin on top of his head.

"Look. Our height difference is perfect!", he said, then kissed George's hair.

"Weirdo!". He shoved at Dream's chest, but he only got his hands snatched up by the larger ones.

"Even our hand size difference is perfect.".

"It's not perfect, yours are way bigger!", he said, trying to pull free.

"No, like mine are the perfect size to trap yours. That's perfect.". George huffed. Dream grinned evilly and ducked down, hooking his arm under George's knees and picking him up bridal style. George screeched as his feet flew off the ground.

"Dream stop being an idiot!!". Dream bounced him like a baby.

"Perfect size for me to hold with no problem.". He laughed and threw George over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. When he felt the smaller boy start to pound against his back he gave a few pokes to his side. George squealed and burst into giggles.

"Dream quit it!!".

     Dream walked over to the couch and suddenly slammed George down onto his back on it. George shrieked, unable to stop giggling now. The way Dream manhandled him with ease was dizzying.

"You know what else is perfect?", Dream asked as he crawled on top of a squirming George.

"No! Get away!!!". He screamed loudly when Dream's sneaky hands slid up his hoodie and t-shirt. "Get out!!!", he cried out.

"My fingers fit right in between your little ribs. We are like two puzzle pieces George!".

     Dream's fingers slotted between his ribs and George went ballistic underneath him.

"No please!! Please!!", he shrieked. With Dream's evil fingers underneath two layers of clothing he was muffined. George quickly fell into hysterics. The adrenaline from all the teasing build up really wasn't helping. He threw his head back as he thrashed against the couch.

     Dream smiled as he fit his tickly fingers between each and every pair of bones on the sensitive Brit's ribcage. Screams of laughter tore out of him. It was so easy to get him helpless, Dream loved it.

     George's cheeks burned as he struggled. Dream had a way of making him feel so small.

"I hate you!", he whined.

"No you don't, you love me. We are perfect for each other!".

"Shut up!!", he yelled. Dream smirked and turned his hands into claws. "Don't!!". He pressed the tips of his fingers into the ticklish bones and vibrated them. George stood no chance. He convulsed silently for a few seconds before desperate cackling overtook him.

"Tell me you love me and I'll stop.".

"Dream!!!", he screeched.

"Fine. Tell me we are perfect for each other.".

Dream had that terrible look in his eye where he was going to get what he wanted no matter what. George kicked up his fighting, huffing loudly through his laughter. He shoved at Dream's shoulders and elbows. But terribly, he was no match for him. Dream only smirked as he tickled him to pieces. His ribs were so unbearably ticklish. Dream moved his hands higher up and vibrated his fingertips in meanly. George threw his head back and wailed with laughter.

"You have to stop!!", he cried desperately. He felt tears prick in his eyes as he panicked at the helpless feeling that flooded him as Dream moved higher on his ribcage.

"You know how to stop this.". Dream smiled.

No matter what George did he couldn't get those devious fingers out from under his hoodie. He squeezed his eyes shut and prayed that Sapnap was in his room with his headphones on.

"We are perfect for each other!", he squeaked out the words.

"What was that?".

"Dream!!".

"Yeah?", he asked playfully. He tilted his head and continued the ticklish attack underneath the hoodie. George gave in helplessly to a few seconds of uncontrollable cackling.

"We are perfect for each other!!!", he yelled.

Dream stopped with a smirk, rubbing firmly at the sensitive ribcage. George stilled and let his eyes flutter shut. He gasped softly for his breath back, fighting through his persistent giggling. From the doorway, Sapnap laughed.

"Holy shit! Wow George! You and Dream huh?”.

[raineandsky]

#32

“You have a kid, right?”

The villain positively bristles at the question. “Don’t you dare bring my child into this.”

The hero deftly sidesteps a swing of his nemesis’s knife. “I’m just asking. I wanna make a bet I’m pretty sure I’ll win.”

“Why would I bet on something if I’m going to lose?” The villain makes another swipe, which the hero infuriatingly dodges. “And what has my son got to do with it?”

The hero retaliates with a swing of his fist, and the villain hops out of reach. “Because you’ll deny it.” 

“Hit me.”

“I’m trying, damn.” The hero delivers a skillful kick to her side, sending her stumbling slightly. “I think your kid might have joined the agency recently. He’s my sidekick.”

The villain frowns confusedly before letting out a sharp laugh. “Hey, he’s a good kid. He’s got his head on right, and I know for a fact he would never be so blind to join you.”

“I don’t know, I don’t know what your kid looks like,” the hero says with a shrug. He takes another swing but the villain slides just out of reach, taking the opportunity to run her blade along the hero’s arm as he passes. She smiles victoriously as the hero brings a hand up to push into the wound with a grimace.

“Next time he’s out, bring him my way.” The villain backs away, her telltale sign that the fight is over, “and I’ll prove you wrong.”

-

The hero is doing his usual rounds of the city three days later. His sidekick has tagged along for today, after the agency deemed the city safe enough for him to experience. His mask is pulled down hard to shade his face from onlookers.

“It was always really dingy in those parts,” the sidekick tells the hero idly. He keeps his gaze locked to anything other than his conversation partner. “I couldn’t really go outside to play like everyone else did.”

“The little corner of the city the villains have is abysmal,” the hero comments with a short nod. “At least you’re here now, so you can play as much as you like. It’s a lot safer in these parts.”

“Do you think I—”

The sidekick is cut off as the villain appears out of seemingly nowhere to cut off their path. “Well well,” she opens lightly. “Our hero has a little shadow.”

The sidekick moves behind the hero anxiously. “He’s not trained in combat yet,” the hero explains casually. “Just you and me for now.”

“Ah, of course, can’t have the child mercenaries trained to kill, can we?”

The hero moves first, closing the space between them to throw his fist at her. She smoothly steps to the side and away. She swings back fast, faster than the hero could anticipate, shoving the blade up to his throat. “That’s not mine,” she whispers once they’re close enough. “I’m offended you think he is. My son isn’t a coward.”

“He said he’s from the bad side,” the hero retorts with a scowl. “That’s your lot.”

“He could be anyone’s! I’m not the only person on earth with a kid, you know.”

The hero manages to kick into her knee, breaking her hold as she sinks to the floor with a startled yelp. “You!” the villain calls, her voice raised, and the sidekick jumps like he’s been shocked. “Take your mask off. Show me your face.”

She staggers to her feet and the sidekick takes a hearty step back. The hero puts his hand on her shoulder as she gets upright. “[Villain], it doesn’t matter. He’s not yours.”

“Yeah,” She dusts her coat off, “so whose is he?”

She wrenches herself out of his grip, pouncing on the sidekick with a sneer. The boy shrieks unabashedly as she tackles him to the dirty pavement, making a mad scramble for his face.

“Oh my god, she’s gonna kill me!” he wails, and the hero lurches forwards to rescue him from her clutches. He drags her back with no dignity, like he’s pulling a cat off some poor pigeon, but her fingers make one last grab for him as they're separated.

The sidekick’s mask clatters to the floor loudly, and both the hero and the villain pause in their fight to stare at the kid shying away from their attentions.

“Holy shit,” the villain breathes.

“Did I win the bet?” the hero asks hopefully and he huffs in annoyance when she shakes her head.

“What? No, he’s— oh god, what am I meant to tell him?”

“[Sidekick]?”

The villain gestures to where the hero’s sidekick is slowly making his getaway from the pair. “No, no, he… that’s [Supervillain]’s kid.”

[kgyam4]

hi lili,, look at our bf link

blushing, smiling, giggling, kicking my feet, meowing, sobbing, crying, weeping, mourning, shedding tears, wailing, bawling, grieving, sorrowing, blubbering, shrieking, roaring, vomiting

bunny,, do u wnat me to die